A Family Come True (7 page)

“And here I thought you chose it because you wanted to walk the streets where Justin Bieber grew up.”

Ah, the Sass Queen was back.

“So,” she said after a moment. “That explains why you haven’t gone home much since you moved in.”

“Yeah.”

“Once in two years, unless I’ve forgotten something.”

He glanced sideways. “Your point, Darce?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but wonder why you’re going back now.”

The truth sat heavy in his gut. Part of him longed to tell her about the charitable foundation Moxie was adding to the dairy—the foundation she wanted him to lead, if he could handle being home. If Xander hadn’t reappeared he might have said something, but Darcy had had enough shockers for one day.

Besides, nothing was definite. What was the point of worrying her when he wasn’t even sure himself if he could do this?

“It’s time,” he said at last. “I don’t want one piece of my past to take over the rest of my life.”

“Very wise.”

“Plus, it’s Father’s Day, and my mom is throwing a big thing for my dad. I don’t want to hurt him by being the only one of his kids to not show up.”

“Did it ever occur to you that the only reason your mom is doing this is to force you to come home?”

“Of course it is. Ma hates hoopla. You know how she spends Mother’s Day?”

“How?”

“She goes to church, then goes back to bed and spends the whole day there, alone. She reads. She naps. She orders pizza for dinner. It’s been like that since we were kids.”

“Oh, my God, seriously? That sounds like the best Mother’s Day ever. What a smart woman.”

“A smart, overworked woman who needed a break.” Much like the one swaying softly in the hammock across from him.

“Someday I’m going to do that. It sounds like bliss.” Her voice switched from wistful to practical in the space of one quick sigh. “But anyway. You. You think you’re ready for this?”

“It’s been two years.”

“I can do math, North. I didn’t ask you how long it had been. I asked if you’re ready.”

Correction: a smart, overworked,
stubborn
woman. “I think so.” Especially when sitting on a porch with the setting sun wrapping them in shadows, surrounded by Darcy’s laugh and her fierce concern and—yeah—that damned pink top that dipped a little lower than she probably realized.

Taylor was a very distant memory when he was with Darcy.

“I think I’m ready,” he said. “But there’s only one way to find out for sure.”

“You blacksmiths. Always shoving things into fires.”

“I’m not planning any long heartfelt talks with either Carter or Taylor, if that’s what you mean. I’ll settle for being in the same room without going bat-shit crazy.”

“I’ll pack some of my mom’s happy pills, just in case.”

It took him a second to process her meaning.

“You’re coming with me?”

“Only because I think you’ll need the moral support.” There was a slightly evil cast to her grin that made him feel as though his beer wasn’t sitting well. “And I always thought Carter was a snot-nosed brat who acted like he was better than the rest of you, so I’m going to love being able to mock him silently anytime I see him.”

“Darce—”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll behave. The last thing I want is to make things worse for you.”

“Damn. I was going to tell you that you didn’t have to keep it silent.” He shrugged. “Listen, this is nothing compared to you and Cady, but so you know—the whole reason Xander came back in the first place was because he wanted Lulu.”

“He
what
?”

“Yep. Something about seeing himself in his new life, walking the straight and narrow with his faithful canine companion at his side.”

“You’re kidding.” For a second the indignant light in her face faded to something more like worry and fear and something else, something that made him want to gather her close and stroke her hair and promise her that everything would be okay.

Lucky for him, the moment passed as quickly as it had appeared.

* * *

N
O MATTER HOW
much she longed to sleep in the next morning, Darcy pushed her reluctant self out of bed while the sun was just beginning to brighten the sky. If she was going to have herself and Cady ready for a ten-o’clock departure, she needed to take full advantage of the golden hour before her girlie started moving.

She threw laundry into the dryer, fired up her laptop and tossed jars and pouches of baby food into a bag, all while waiting for the coffee to brew. As soon as it was ready she filled her mug and carried it to the porch for what was usually the best fifteen minutes of her morning.

Too bad she had to spend it calling her mother today.

Sylvie was in London this week, meaning it was already late morning for her, meaning there was a decent chance she would be awake. No guarantee, but the odds were high. Darcy couldn’t count how many times in the past year she had given thanks that her own sleep cycle had come from her father instead of her mother.

“Darcy?”

Yep. Mom might technically be awake, but alert and functional were still hours away. If luck was really on Darcy’s side, she could get through this conversation before Sylvie woke up enough to become annoyed.

“’Morning, Mom. How’re you and the queen this fine day?”

“Don’t be an ass, Darcy. You know very well she’s touring Japan this month. Why on earth are you calling at such a teeth-numbing hour?”

“A couple of things. The copy edits for the new book came in yesterday. I’ll have those turned around within the week, and then I’ll send them to you for final approval. If you need me over the next few days, I might be a bit slow in getting back to you because Cady and I are going to Comeback Cove. And I finalized your Sydney itinerary and will send that to you in a few minutes.”

“That all sounds— Wait. You’re going where?”

So much for that great strategy.

“Comeback Cove.”

“For the love of God, why?”

Because my friend needs me. Because I need some breathing room between me and the Amazing Reappearing Biological Daddy. Because the family I idolized when I was a kid has been broken, and I want to help fix it.

Of all the reasons for this trip, there was only one Darcy would even think of sharing with her mother. “Ian was driving up anyway, and Nonny hasn’t seen Cady since right after she was born, so it seemed like good timing.”

“Assuming there’s ever a good time to be bored silly.”

Darcy often wondered what on earth her parents had seen in each other. Sylvie was a mercurial, nightlife-loving actress, while Paul had been a quiet, small-town homebody. Sylvie was all about the next excitement. Paul had been all about the moment. Sylvie loved Darcy in a bemused sort of way, as if she were never quite sure where this child had come from and what she was supposed to do with her. Paul had been a hands-on, deeply invested father.

But Paul was dead. Sylvie was not only alive, but provided a major chunk of Darcy’s hard-earned income. So on many levels it behooved Darcy to keep her mother placated.

“You know how it goes. Sometimes you have to make these sacrifices for the sake of family.”

“I suppose. It was so much easier when your father was alive and I could let him deal with those issues.”

Darcy had been called many things in her life, but she was pretty sure she had never before been an
issue
.

“Fine, then. Go do what you must. When will you be— Oh. Hold on a second.”

There came the rustling sort of crackle that made Darcy suspect the phone had been relegated to the side of the bed, followed by a lazy “Good morning, Matteo,” and something that sounded way too much like a long and welcoming kiss. Oh, goody. There was nothing as delightful as trying to conduct a conversation with Sylvie when her latest boy toy was in the room. All it took was one studly thing to make an appearance and Sylvie Drummond—sometimes known as the most driven woman on two continents—turned into a rather embarrassing pile of goo.

“Mom? Hello?”

“Oh. Darcy.” The throaty quality to Sylvie’s voice made Darcy want to shove her fingers in her ears and sing
la la la, not paying attention
. “I thought you had hung up.”

Yep. Testosterone walked in, five hundred brain cells marched out.

“Sorry. I need to confirm some dates with you. Before you get too busy,” she couldn’t help but add.

“Of course. Fire away.”

Darcy rattled off the requests, knowing full well from the faraway
mmm-hmms
on the other end that her mother’s focus was elsewhere. Sure enough, as soon as she paused, Sylvie pounced.

“You know, dear, why don’t you email all that to me? I’ll go over it later.”

Later, as in sometime when Matteo wasn’t around.

It had been this way for almost as long as Darcy could remember. It seemed like mere weeks between the time Paul died and the parade of new friends/uncles/possible new daddies had begun. As an adult, Darcy could look back and see that, yes, Sylvie had gone quite a while without adult companionship, and, yes, it was rather pathetic that she became so dependent on them so quickly. Most of the time Darcy rolled her eyes and gave thanks that she was no longer young enough to have to tag along when Sylvie decided to follow her latest love. Seeing the world was fine and dandy, but Darcy had inherited her father’s love of home. She was quite happy to spend her days in her snug little house, just her and Cady. And, usually, Ian. Who had turned out to deliver the kind of kiss that left her wishing it had gone on just a little longer—

Oh, no. Inheriting Sylvie’s hair and eyes was one thing. Inheriting her man-induced dizziness was quite another.

“Okay. I’ll email you. Better run, Cady’s waking up,” she lied. “Say hi to Matteo for me. I’ll talk to you next week.”

She ended the call quickly in case any rogue Sylvie genes were being activated by the contact, distant though it might be.

“At least that’s behind me,” she said to the robins perched in the crab apple tree next to the porch. They didn’t seem remotely impressed with her amazing strength and fortitude.

Though maybe that was because they were mind readers who knew that while a part of her was busy shaking her head over Sylvie, another part was reliving that quick kiss with Ian and wondering about the justice of a world where a grandmother was seeing more action than her daughter ever had.

* * *

S
OMEWHERE IN THE TALK
of Darcy coming along on this trip, Ian had forgotten one major point: the actual car ride.

He gripped the steering wheel and tore his focus from the traffic in front of him to do one of the status checks that had become routine after three-plus hours on the road. Cady: snoozing in her car seat. Lulu: probably asleep in her crate, if the blessed lack of yipping was any indication. And Darcy: swaying in the passenger seat, singing softly to whatever was coming out of the laptop perched on her knee. In denim shorts and headphones she looked more like a college student than a hardworking mother.

For the first time he wondered if talking her into coming along might have been a mistake. Being so close to her in the car was stirring up a crap-load of feelings, most of them pertaining to that stupid kiss. How was he supposed to prepare himself for a seriously awkward family reunion when his eyes kept drifting away from the road and over to where her shorts exposed a whole lot of leg? Long, slightly tan, totally toned leg.

And the humidity had seized control of her hair, making it extra wavy. Each curl was like an individual finger beckoning him closer.

And when she really got into the music, she did some motion with her shoulders that made her breasts jiggle beneath her T-shirt. All in all, being in the Mustang with her was way too dangerous, given that they were on a busy highway and he wasn’t supposed to be noticing her.

If he could think of something to get her talking at least the seat-dancing would stop. If only his brain cells weren’t being hijacked by his—

Thank God, right at that moment she hit a key with a flourish, punched the air and let loose with a little “yeah, yeah, yeeeeah,” before letting out a sigh of what he assumed was satisfaction.

“Ha! Take that you brain-stealing piece of busywork!”

“What were you doing this time? Something for your mom?”

“Nope. One of my other clients.”

“Ah. Another website?”

“Honestly.” This time her sigh held nothing but exasperation. Lucky for him, he could tell it was totally fake. “Author assistants do more than build sites, you know.”

“I know, I know. You set up contests, format ebooks and...other stuff.” He could go into more detail, but he didn’t want her to know how closely he’d paid attention to her work talk.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure
he
wanted to know how much he’d picked up about it, either. It smacked too closely of being...well...too close.

“Very good. You get an A for listening.” She closed the lid on the laptop. “But this time I was planning a social media campaign. Not horribly complicated, but it’s a royal pain. I’ve earned a break. So.” She peered out the window. “Where are we? Belleville?”

“Not quite. We just passed the Trenton exit. About halfway there.”

“Good.” She twisted slightly to look behind her. He glanced her way. Mistake. Between her movements and the grip of the seat belt, her neckline was pulled sideways. He tore his gaze away, but there was no erasing the image of peachy skin and white lace that was now branded into his brain.

Yep. This trip was a serious blunder. Time to remind himself of the real reason she was sitting beside him.

“I think Xander believed the lines we fed him yesterday. About us being—”

“Right.” She sounded surprisingly flustered for someone who had spent the first hour of the drive soothing a wailing child and a howling dog without breaking a sweat. “I have to say, you did a great job. Of pretending, I mean. If the business world ever loses its appeal, have me introduce you to some of my mother’s cohorts. They might be able to make use of you.”

“Given some of the stories you’ve shared, I’m gonna say thanks but no thanks.” Especially because he hadn’t been
acting
so much as indulging his own needs at that moment—not that he would ever tell her that part. “But at some point we’re gonna have to come clean with him.”