And Then Forever (8 page)

“Because some things are more important.” Grace flipped the burger, then dropped the fries into the fryer.

Darcy wanted to believe that, wanted to believe Kincaid would be a great father, but she’d spent too many years afraid of what Edgar Foster would do. What if she told Kincaid about Emma and he had no interest in parenting? Or worse, he told his father, and Edgar took her child away, out of spite? Of what if Kincaid sided with his father, and the two of them raised Emma, cutting her entirely out of the equation? She couldn’t afford to fight the Fosters, and they knew that.

But then she thought of how he had done what he did for his sister, to protect her and her child. That knowledge added more weight to the Trust Kincaid side of the argument. But then she thought of Edgar Foster again, and tension twisted in her gut. Her base instinct was to protect her daughter, and not let a man who took in a stray dog and a needy sister distract her.

“I can’t take that chance, Grace,” Darcy said. “Besides, he’s only here for a few days. What good would it do?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t give Kincaid the opportunity to be the man he can be.”

Darcy shook her head. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t risk Emma’s future like that. The burger was done and plated, the fries piled high beside it. Darcy picked up the plate and turned toward the door. “Let me deal with the burger. The rest…”

Grace arched a brow.

“I’ll think about.” Darcy pushed on the swinging door with her hip, then turned right to head out to the deck. Kincaid was sitting in the same spot, the dog asleep at his feet. The late afternoon sun glinted off his dark hair. He looked so at home, so far removed from the Foster world, that for a moment, she was living in the past again.

Darcy dragged herself back to reality. They weren’t teens anymore. They were adults, with histories and responsibilities. It would do her no good to see him as anything other than a problem. She laid the plate before him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” The dog perked up, and Kincaid split the burger, tore it into smaller pieces, then dropped those into the dog’s bowl. He gave the pup a tender touch and the dog wagged her appreciation.

Leave, Darcy. Just because he was nice to a dog doesn’t mean anything.
“I’ll, uh, leave you and your new friend alone.”

“Is it busy in the restaurant?”

“Not yet. It’s early.”

“Then stay with me.” He gestured toward the seat opposite him. “I need to pick a name for this girl.”

Temptation curled inside her. She told herself she could use a minute to rest her legs, that it had nothing to do with the alluring thought of sitting beside Kincaid. “You don’t need me for that.”

“Oh, but I do.” He grinned. “Remember the crab?”

The memory flooded her, sweet and perfect, one of those ones that held in a person’s mind, because that simple moment had been a pivotal one. The day she had fallen in love with Kincaid Foster.

They’d been walking the beach, just talking and laughing, with the kind of half flirting that young adults did: elbowing and teasing, testing the waters, so to speak, to gauge the other’s interest. Darcy hadn’t been sure she wanted to get involved with one of the Fosters—she hadn’t had to ask Kincaid if he was a member of that family; it was clear in the hushed whispers when he entered The Love Shack for the first time. She knew all about the Fosters, even then, only a few weeks into living on the island. They were the Fortune’s Island royalty and bane, all at the same time.

He was rich and handsome and would be gone at the end of the summer, she’d told herself.
Keep it just a fling, don’t connect, don’t fall for him
.

Then they’d found the crab.

It was a hermit crab, no bigger than a golf ball, and he was upside down in his shell, legs clawing at the air, as if he could grasp a cloud and right himself again. The tide was going out, which took the water he needed further and further away with each passing second. Darcy hadn’t even seen the little crab on the ground; it had been Kincaid who’d seen him and bent down to scoop him into his palm.

“Poor guy,” Kincaid said. “Let’s put him back where he belongs.”

The care and compassion in Kincaid’s voice had surprised Darcy. She’d expected a spoiled rich kid, the kind who would walk right past something in need and ignore it, like she’d seen so many others do before. But he’d walked down to the water’s edge, heedless of the ocean licking at the cuffs of his jeans, and lowered the hermit crab into a sandy divot that had created a shallow pool. The crab scampered off a few feet, then tucked himself into his shell.

She’d thought,
that man is amazing
. In that moment, her heart had opened, and she’d realized she never wanted to spend another moment without him. Until weeks later, when the tides between them had shifted, and she’d walked away, to protect the one thing she loved more than anyone else. But her heart hadn’t forgotten, hadn’t lost a single one of those memories.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I remember the crab.”

“You named him Lucky, because you said he was lucky we found him,” Kincaid said. He gestured toward the chair beside him. “So why don’t you have some of my fries, get to know my new best friend here, and help me think of a name?”

She watched the way Kincaid absentmindedly rubbed the dog’s ears, the way the dog looked up at him with total adoration, and thought,
oh, I know how she feels
. Once, Darcy had felt that same way.

But she was over Kincaid now. Over him for good. Surely she could spend a couple minutes talking about a name for a dog—especially a dog who had been through as much as this one had and not get distracted by thoughts of the man
with
the dog.

So she dropped into the seat and picked up a fry. Kincaid reached into the repurposed six-pack box that held condiments, squirted some ketchup into the corner of the dish, then added a sprinkle of pepper. “You still eat them with ketchup and pepper, right?”

Damn him for remembering. All those pretty little reasons she had for not getting close to him again disappeared. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember a lot of things, Darcy.”

What those things were, he didn’t elaborate on, so she ate her fries and pondered the dog, instead of Kincaid and what he may or may not recall from that summer. The dog kept wagging her tail, nosing at the underside of the table, as if hoping for a fry to go her way. Hopeful, eager, friendly. Darcy gave her a head scratch and half a fry.

“I think you already came up with the perfect name for her,” Darcy said. “Mooch.”

Kincaid chuckled. “That does seem to fit her.” He turned to the dog, taking her face in his hands and looking right into her big brown eyes. It was such a tender moment, a little of Kincaid being vulnerable and sweet with a four-legged friend. “What do you think?” he said. “You want me to call you Mooch?”

The dog’s tail went into overdrive. Kincaid rewarded her with a fry, which only made her tail wag faster. “Mooch it is, then,” he said.

Darcy was tempted, so tempted, to stay right here with Kincaid for hours. Watch him with the dog, listen to his voice…just be in the same space. But that would be dangerous, and tread too close to past history.

Behind her, the rising tide of voices coming from inside The Love Shack meant customers were starting to arrive. “I have to get back to work. Thanks for the fries.”

“Anytime.” As she got to her feet, he reached for her hand. That same spark of electricity that always ran through her when Kincaid touched her shivered along Darcy’s veins. “When your shift is over, come sit with me again.”

“You’re going to stay the whole time?”

“I’ll be here when your shift is over,” he said.

Darcy headed inside, without answering him. As she got to work, seating the first few people, making sure all the last-minute prep of the tables was done, she noticed Kincaid out of the corner of her eye. Jillian brought him a To-Go order, and a minute later, he loped down the stairs and left The Love Shack, with Mooch by his side.

Darcy told herself she wasn’t disappointed. That she didn’t care one bit what Kincaid Foster did with his time or whether he really had intended to wait for her. That it was just as well that he had left. But as her shift wore on, her gaze strayed to the door, over and over again, until the hope in her chest faded.

M
ost nights, Jillian worked
her job, too busy to let her mind wander. It wasn’t until after she left The Love Shack that the doubts and worries would crowd in, sitting like an extra passenger in her car on the ride home. Maybe that was why she worked so late, and babysat so often for Darcy—because if she stayed busy enough, she wouldn’t have to think.

Think about how she pretended everything was fine between her and Zach. That this ongoing engagement wasn’t really a procrastination of the inevitable.

That she’d been unhappy for a long, long time, and the only solution was to end it before she ended up in a wedding gown and the web between them became a hundred times more complicated.

Zach had strolled in a little before eight, almost late as usual, for his set at The Love Shack. He and his band The Outsiders played The Love Shack on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and some Sunday nights, from eight to close. That was where she had met him—when he’d gotten off the ferry one day, strolled into The Love Shack with his guitar and that lopsided smile, and gotten hired to play on the spot, mostly because the regular musician hadn’t shown up.

She’d been bussing tables, still a waitress in training, and Zach had come over to her, said
hey, what’s up, beautiful,
with those blue eyes of his, and that had been it. She’d have followed him to the ends of the earth, like a puppy.

She’d fallen fast and hard, so much so that she didn’t notice the red flags until it was too late. Zach’s inability to make a decision. His procrastination on even the smallest of things. The way he seemed to forget to call her or text her. She’d written it all off to dating someone creative, but as the years wore on, the excuses began to wane.

Then he’d proposed and she’d thought,
yes, this is the moment it all changes
. But it hadn’t. If anything, since the engagement, Zach had been more distant, less thoughtful. Less present and in much less of a rush to make her his forever. He loped over to her now, draped an arm over her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, babe. Gonna play your favorite tonight.”

She worked a smile to her face. “Great.”

“Do me a solid and get me and the guys something to eat and drink, will ya? I have to finish setting up, and we’re on in five. Not a lot of time to do a lot of crap.” Zach chuckled, gave her another quick kiss, then headed back to the stage.

Jillian sighed. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and wondered if it meant anything. If it ever had.

She headed into the kitchen and wrote up an order for the band’s usual grub—sandwiches and fries that were quick and easy to eat, then tacked it to the metal board in front of her mother. “Zach and the guys want something to eat.”

“You okay, honey?” Grace said.

Jillian leaned against the counter and let out a breath. “Yeah. No. Just…frustrated.”

Her mother stopped what she was doing, and went over to draw Jillian into a hug. “Men are frustrating, dear. It’s part of their DNA.”

That made Jillian laugh. “I suppose it is. But…”

Grace drew back and looked at her daughter. “But what?”

Jillian drew in a long breath, held it as she hesitated to say the words. Because saying it would mean she had to face what had been bothering her for months. Finally deal with the thing that scared her. “But aren’t they supposed to do whatever it takes to be with the woman they love? Make her a priority? Make their wedding a priority?”

Grace’s face softened, and sympathy flooded her light blue eyes. “Yes, honey, they are.”

“And if he’s not then that means…”

“Sometimes it means he’s scared. Sometimes it means you’re not meant to be together.” Grace placed a soft palm against her daughter’s cheek. “And I don’t know which it is, sweetheart. Only you do.”

The answer sat heavy in Jillian’s stomach. She gave her mother a hug, then grabbed the cooked food and a tray of ice waters and sodas. She brought them over to the stage, leaving them on top of the amp. Zach gave her a nod and a thumbs-up. Just like he had a hundred thousand times before, and just like she would do a hundred thousand times in the future, rinse and repeat, nothing changing.

“Thanks, babe.” Zach’s attention was already on the burger, the comment thrown over his shoulder.

She started to walk away, then wheeled back. Damn it, her mother was right. She could read the answer in Zach’s nonchalance, in the way he treated everything she did and every moment they had together as no more important than reading the paper. “When are we getting married, Zach?”

He looked up at her, confused. “Someday. Why are you asking me now?”

“Because we have been engaged forever, and I am sick and tired of this holding pattern. In fact, I’m sick and tired of the whole thing.” She wrestled the ring off her finger and placed it on the amp. It felt like she’d taken an anvil off her hand. “And I’m sick and tired of being the last thing on your list.”

*~*~*

T
he party on the
outside deck was in full swing. Darcy had to squeeze through dozens of people, lifting the tray high above her head. She deposited drinks and food at two different tables, then turned back toward the door.

The music from the Outsiders was pounding through the open overhead door that Whit raised whenever the weather was good and the music loud. The Outsiders were doing a pretty decent cover of an old AC/DC song. Joey spied Darcy, and when she passed by, he looped an arm around her waist and took the tray from her hand at the same time, leaving it on an empty chair. “Dance with me, Darce.”

She laughed. “I’m working.”

“Yes, you are. Entertaining the customers so they leave a good tip.” One hand pressed into the small of her back, Joey sashayed Darcy through the crowd, onto an open area of the deck. Dozens of others pressed in, whooping and hollering and dancing, while the strings of globe lights twinkled in the night sky, and the floorboards creaked in time to the music’s beat.

Darcy spun to the right, then the left, with Joey keeping pace beside her. Then, above the crowd, Darcy saw Kincaid, standing on the top step, the dog at his side. Her heart leapt. Had he come back for her?

He was watching her, his face dark, unreadable. Jealous?

She told herself she didn’t care if Kincaid was jealous. But when Joey brought her back tight against his chest, their hips swinging in rhythm, she didn’t resist, and laughed a little more than normal. A little louder. A little more flirty. Okay, so maybe she was trying to test and see if Kincaid was indeed jealous. The song ended, and Darcy slid out of Joey’s grip. “Gotta go.”

“Already? The party’s just getting started.”

“Somebody’s got to refill the pitchers. I’ll be back for an encore later.” She grinned, then spun back into the dim interior of The Love Shack. The restaurant itself was mostly empty, with the majority of the folks enjoying the warm early summer temps and the slight breeze off the ocean. She didn’t glance at Kincaid as she went, because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know if he had noticed her dancing.

She ducked into the kitchen, heading for the walk-in cooler at the back of the room. She said hi to Grace as she passed, noting the orders ready to be taken outside. As Darcy rounded the corner toward the warming shelf, she saw Jillian, her back against the wall, her head in her hands.

“Hey, Jill, you okay?”

Jillian started, then nodded, but her eyes were filled with tears. “Fine.”

Darcy put a hand on her friend’s back. “You look anything but fine. What happened?”

“I…I broke up with Zach.” She swiped at her eyes, erasing the tears that had brimmed over. “It was the best thing. We were stuck in neutral.”

Jillian had broken up with Zach? After eight years together? An engagement? Of all the couples that Darcy had thought would stay together, it was them. “But I thought you two were happy. Getting married.”

“I think he only proposed so I’d quit asking him where this relationship was going. It’s been a year, and he still doesn’t want to set a date. I want a man who truly wants me, Darce, who’ll go through fire and hell to be with me.”

Darcy drew Jillian into a hug. It was what Darcy had been thinking for years, but never said to Jillian, because her friend had seemed so happy. She’d just thought Jillian and Zach would go on with the status quo, as they had for so long. “You deserve exactly that.”

“So do you,” Jillian said into Darcy’s shoulder, then she drew back. “I mean it.”

“Do you want me to take your tables for a while?” Darcy asked, avoiding Jillian’s other comment. A man in her life, while she was still raising Emma, wasn’t something she wanted to think about or consider. She had enough going on without adding a layer of complication. Like Kincaid.

Kincaid was a man in her life, a man she still wanted, a man who was doing his damnedest to convince her to try again. And the very same man who could make her lose the only thing that mattered.

“Thanks, but no,” Jillian said, swiping at her face again, and pressing a hand to her hair to smooth the flyaways. “It’ll do me good to work.”

“Well, if you need me, I’m here.”

“Ditto.” Another quick hug, then Jillian went back to her tables, and Darcy grabbed the readied food and brought it out to the diners. By the time she returned to the deck with three pitchers of beer in her hands, Joey had found someone else to dance with, a local artist with a flair for Bohemian dress.

Darcy gave Joey a thumbs-up, then turned to go back inside—and stopped when she saw Kincaid.

Dancing with Pamela.

Pamela had her hands on Kincaid’s waist, tight, possessive, her face upturned toward his, her eyes full of interest. He had his hands on her waist, too, but his attention wavered from time to time.

Something that Darcy refused to call jealousy coiled in her stomach. She watched him dance, while Mooch sat on the sidelines, waiting, as if maybe she’d be invited to join in, too. Pamela raised her arms to lock them around Kincaid’s neck, bringing their bodies closer, touching.

Darcy did spin away then, so fast, she collided with a customer, a young man with his arm around his girlfriend. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Then she ducked back inside and told herself it was because it was too hot on the deck and she just needed a breather. Not because seeing Kincaid with another woman—a friend at that—had driven home one clear fact to Darcy.

Kincaid wasn’t hers. Hadn’t been in a long time. He could dance with, kiss, make love to anyone else. That realization didn’t surprise her as much as the next one—

That the thought of Kincaid with anyone else made Darcy want to cry. Darcy, who never cried, never got upset, never got jealous, now felt the hot rush of tears in the back of her throat.