And Then Forever (18 page)

Kincaid stood in the sun with his father, and thought that this man, who looked so much like him, was as far removed from him as the earth from the moon. They had so little in common; they always had, and maybe he needed to give up on trying to forge a connection with Edgar.

Then Kincaid thought of the one thing that could bind them—the one thing that often brought together families. The first Foster grandchild. Emma.

Kincaid wasn’t sure how his father would react. His father had been pleased when Abby announced her pregnancy—and had taken more interest in the progress of his grandchild than he ever had in his own children. Kincaid hoped that meant his father was mellowing, maybe even finally putting his family ahead of his law practice.

“Let’s take a seat, Father,” Kincaid said, gesturing toward two chairs set up under the shade of a maple tree. “I want to tell you something.”

His father gave the chair a dubious glance, brushed at the seat several times, then finally sat down gingerly on the edge. “I have a meeting this afternoon. About the Lennox Pharma case. I expect you to be on that helicopter with me, which is why I came to this godforsaken island in the first place. It took me a while to figure out where you were, then I realized that you and your sister both loved this…island and I thought you might have come here. I asked around when I arrived, and found out you were in this house, instead of the one I have paid for. But that’s neither here nor there. I came to get you for the meeting and the hearing. You were the lead counsel, and this is your job. So let’s get on that helicopter and get back to work.”

Kincaid shook his head. “I’m not going. Sullivan can cover for me. He knows as much about that case as I do.”

“I didn’t fly all the way here for Sullivan. I flew here for you. This…” his father waved a hand, “childish tantrum you’re having is over. Your sister is perfectly fine now, and you can return to the office.”

“Why?”

Edgar blinked. “Because that is your job. Why else would you return?”

“How about because you need me? You want to go back to working with me.” Kincaid flipped out two fingers, then a third. “Or maybe you missed your son and would love to see him back in the office?”

Edgar scoffed and looked away. “You have a job, one that a thousand other attorneys would give their right hand to have. And you’re prattling on about some emotional bullshit like needing each other? It’s a law firm, Kincaid, not some touchy-feely coffee shop. Now come on, let’s go. We’re just wasting time. We can discuss your opening statement on the flight back to New York.” His father got to his feet, an expectant look in his eyes.

“I’m staying here. I’m not going back to New York. Because…” Kincaid took in a deep breath, and let it out again, “I have a daughter here.”

He’d expected his father to show surprise, maybe even a little of the joy he’d shown when Abby had announced her pregnancy months ago. Instead, Edgar’s face became a dark, stormy cloud and his jaw clenched. He cursed under his breath. “That hussy. What did she tell you?”

Hussy
? Kincaid bristled. “For one, Darcy is not a hussy, and for another, she didn’t tell me anything. I saw my daughter and figured it out.”

“So it was a girl.” Edgar shook his head. “Well, now you know. Let’s go.”

How did his father know about Emma? And why wouldn’t he have told Kincaid? “What the hell is wrong with you, Father? This is your grandchild. My child. A child I never even knew about until now. And here you are, acting like you already knew. Did you?”

His father looked down the road, as if he expected the Mercedes to return right then and save him.

Kincaid stood and came around to face his father head-on. Even with the sunglasses, Kincaid could see Edgar was hiding something. “You did know. For how long?”

“Since the day that harlot tried to trap you into a dead-end marriage that would do nothing but ruin your life. You’re a Foster. We don’t marry people like that.” Edgar said the words like he was spitting out something distasteful.

“People like Darcy?” Kincaid had heard a lot of things out of his father’s mouth over the years, but he’d thought it was all talk. Despite what had happened earlier with Abby and Gordon, Kincaid realized his father really was that narrow-minded and judgmental. No wonder Kincaid could never build a relationship with him. They had nothing in common. “Darcy is the mother of my child, Father, and I will never let you speak disrespectfully about her again. I’m not getting on that helicopter, I’m staying here to help raise my daughter. That is my duty, as a father. My number one job.”

“You have no financial obligations to that child. I have already taken care of that.” Edgar waved off Kincaid’s objections. “And that…woman was supposed to keep her mouth shut. The contract was clear.”

A stone sunk in the pit of Kincaid’s stomach. “Contract? What contract?”

His father turned back now, and a terrible smile curved across his face. “She didn’t tell you? You might want to ask her if she was planning on double-dipping into the Foster checkbook. I paid her handsomely years ago. As soon as I found out about this…situation, I knew I had to move fast, or she’d try to get every single dime out of our family. You should thank me for being prepared to do what it took to get her to see there was no future with you. She was never supposed to contact you or tell you about this…indiscretion. Let me guess, she wants more money now? Some kind of settlement to provide for her child?”

“She wants nothing of the sort.” But then Kincaid had to wonder. If Darcy had lied about his father, lied about the past, what else was she lying about? Had it all been some elaborate scheme to get his money and then cut him off from seeing his daughter? Why wouldn’t she have said anything about the contract? The check from his father?

In the end, she had broken up with him. If she had wanted his money, wouldn’t she have done the opposite? Kincaid didn’t know, and he didn’t see any answers suddenly becoming clear.

The Mercedes pulled into the driveway. Gordon was no longer in the backseat, most likely sitting at the ferry station, already relegated to the sidelines. Kincaid had no doubt that Edgar would never speak to Gordon again. Once someone was on Edgar’s shit list, that person stayed there forever.

“We need to leave or we will be late for court. Come along, Kincaid.”

Kincaid stood his ground. But inside, his mind was reeling, his heart shattered. Darcy had lied to him. Again. And he’d been the fool to fall for the fairy tale all over again. “I’m not going, Father.”

“What choice do you have? Stay here with the woman who lied to you? The woman who is very likely using you for your money?” Edgar waved toward the car. “Come to court with me. The hearing should take no more than three days. Then you can return, talk some sense into your sister about going back to the city, where they have hospitals and maids, and you can put this entire distasteful incident behind you.”

The driver stepped out of the car and opened the rear door. Kincaid looked back at the cottage. Abby was standing on the porch again. Her face was sad, and her eyes kind. “I’ll be okay, Kincaid. It’s only a few days and I have a couple weeks left. Whit and Grace will be right here, if I need anything.”

Kincaid glanced down the street. A quarter mile away was Darcy and his daughter. Darcy, who had lied to him from the start. He’d held her in his arms last night and thought he was in love again. How many times did he need to learn the same lesson? How many times did he need to let that woman break his heart?

Kincaid gave his sister a kiss, then got in the Mercedes and went back to the life that had never been happy, but had also never disappointed him like the one he thought he had on Fortune’s Island.

T
wo days.

Jillian had made it two days since she’d broken her engagement with Zach. She kept telling herself it would get easier. But every time she looked at him, or heard his deep voice singing a ballad, her heart broke a little more. He hadn’t come after her—or at least he hadn’t tried very hard—and that alone told her that she had made the right decision.

She woke up the next morning, closer to lunchtime than morning. She lay in bed, exhausted still from the night before, and thought Darcy had to be a zombie or something, because she slept so little and accomplished so much. Jillian liked her sleep, and tried to get as much as possible.

She padded out to the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, then headed out to the porch to grab the Sunday paper. There was nothing like curling back into bed with some coffee and that thick, heavy newspaper to read. That was her weekend routine with Zach, only she was usually the one who was awake while her musician fiancé slept till almost supper time. In the beginning, he’d slept less, spent as much time with her as possible. He’d talked about moving in, though he never had made that final leap to living with her, opting to keep his apartment. Then as the months wore on and they grew more comfortable in their relationship—translation: sank deeper into a rut—he’d spent less and less time with her, to the point where the most hours she saw him were the ones he spent playing at The Love Shack.

Just as well she’d ended it, she told herself for the hundredth time.

She opened the door, still half asleep, and started to bend down for the paper when she noticed a familiar pair of jeans and scuffed Converse sneakers. Jillian popped back up. “What are you doing here?”

Zach offered her the sheepish grin that had once made her fall in love. He held out her paper. “Bringing you the paper.”

She yanked it out of his hand. “Thanks.” She stepped back and started to shut the door when Zach brought his other hand around to the front of his body.

“And these.”

Jillian stared at the white daisies and told herself that she wasn’t going to be swayed by her favorite flowers. Or the fact that for the first time ever in their relationship, Zach had brought her the flowers she loved instead of the roses she didn’t like. That he was trying to show he’d paid attention. That he cared. Or maybe he just grabbed the first bunch of flowers he saw in the store and got lucky. “I don’t want any flowers.”

“Come on, Jill. Give me a second chance.”

She shook her head. “We are done.”

“Why? We had something good going.”

“
Had
is the operative word, Zach. We had something good. A long time ago. Then it died. Like a plant that we forgot to water.”

“Well, put these in water and they won’t die.” He held out the flowers again.

“Not right away, but they will in a few days. That’s the reality, Zach. And you just didn’t see it.” She started to step back again, but he moved forward.

“Wait, Jill. Let’s talk.”

She wanted to let that smile and those eyes convince her. She thought of how easy it would be to let him into her house, then into her heart again. She could climb into bed with the paper, her coffee, and Zach, and all this aching emptiness would go away.

But then she thought of what would come in a week, a month, six months. How she would lie in that bed on a Sunday morning while he went on sleeping, how she would come home to an empty house, because he was “unwinding” with the guys after the gig, how she would call him and get his voicemail, over and over again. How she would need him—and he wouldn’t be there. He’d be at a bar or at his place or just…not there.

“We don’t have anything to talk about, Zach.” She pressed the flowers back into his hands. “Goodbye.”

Then she stepped inside her house, shut the door, leaned against it and let the tears fall. She had closed a chapter in a book that she wasn’t done reading, and that hurt. But she already knew how it was going to end, and she’d rather be disappointed now instead of years down the road.

*~*~*

D
arcy spent a solid
hour agonizing over what to wear, then what to dress Emma in. She took time to tame her curls with some gel and a curling iron, then touched up Emma’s hair, too. All the while she thought about Kincaid and how it had felt to fall asleep in his arms. How much she wanted to wake in them, too, to build that family she’d always wanted. It seemed like he desired the same thing, and the realization made Darcy happier than she could remember feeling in a long time.

Today, she had decided, she would tell him about his father. Then they could get off to a true beginning without any lingering secrets. Somehow, she’d find a way to pay back the money she’d accepted from Edgar Foster, and then his control over her and Emma would end. Especially once he saw that Kincaid wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life. And maybe, just maybe, she could finally have that happy ending she’d never dared to hope for.

Finally, a little after eleven that morning, Darcy took Emma’s hand, and they started down the road. Emma had Elsa clutched under one arm. She’d carried the stuffed dog everywhere, ever since Kincaid gave it to her. “Where are we going, Mommy?”

“To see Mr. Foster.”

“I like him.” She gave the dog a little hug. “He’s really nice. And he has a nice doggie.”

“He does, indeed. I was thinking we could invite him to lunch today.” Then maybe he’d come into The Love Shack again for dinner, and stop by her house again late that night. That was a routine Darcy decided she could get used to. She smiled to herself, and rounded the corner onto the street where Kincaid and his sister were staying. Her heart leapt, knowing she would be seeing Kincaid soon.

“Can he bring Mooch?” Emma asked. “I can feed her some of my lunch.”

“Real puppies shouldn’t eat people food,” Darcy explained. “But how about we stop at the store and buy Mooch some dog biscuits?”

Emma agreed, and started to skip forward. Darcy was half tempted to do the same, because her heart sure felt as light as Emma’s skips. As they neared the house, Mooch roused herself from her nap on the porch, and trundled down the stairs, then over to Emma, tail wagging. Emma broke free from Darcy and ran toward the dog, dropping to her knees and giving Mooch a big hug. Darcy started to tell Emma not to do that because she’d dirty the pretty butter yellow dress she was wearing, then decided Emma looked so happy hugging that dog that it wouldn’t be fair to make her stop.

Darcy gave Mooch a pat on the head as she passed, then headed up the porch stairs. Emma let go of the dog and the two of them followed behind Darcy. Darcy knocked, and Mooch plopped down beside Darcy. The dog let out a bark. Darcy laughed. Seemed the dog was just as anxious as she was for Kincaid to answer the door.

But it wasn’t Kincaid who answered the door. It was Abby. His sister’s face softened when she saw Darcy. “I thought he would have called you,” Abby said.

The words sent a flutter of warning through Darcy. “He didn’t call. Is he busy?”

“He…” Abby shifted her feet and looked away. She bit her lip, then turned back to Darcy.

Before Abby even said anything, Darcy knew. Her heart began to break, the hurt running through her like an earthquake. “He…he left?” Darcy asked, then made a mental plea for Abby to disagree.

Instead, Abby nodded her head. “He went back to New York. But just for a few days. Our father needed him to argue a case and…”

But all Darcy heard was
he went back to New York
. He’d said he was going to stay. He’d talked about forever. And just like that, he was gone. Again.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, wasn’t that what Kincaid had done the first time, too? He hadn’t stayed and fought for her. He hadn’t bucked his father’s rules. He’d accepted her breakup and boarded the first ferry leaving Fortune’s Island. Just as he had today.

Just when she’d fallen in love with him all over again.

*~*~*

K
incaid stood in court
in a custom Armani suit, wearing shoes that cost more than some people made in a month, and performed like the circus seal he’d been bred to be. He laid out the case against Lennox Pharma with clear, decisive points, and when he was done, the opposing counsel had gone a little pale. The jury was already nodding their heads, and even the judge’s resigned face made it look like this was a slam dunk.

His father had been right. A few days, at most, and they could wrap this up. If they were successful in their settlement with Lennox, for overcharging customers for years, then there were two other suits waiting in the wings, ones that could net even bigger profits for the firm. The kind of cases that would strengthen the Foster Law Firm as a big player.

Kincaid glanced at the second row of the gallery. His father sat there, with a smile on his face. That was the only time Kincaid ever saw his father smile—when his son towed the family line and did the Foster bidding. But inside, Kincaid felt sick to his stomach. He’d come back to the firm, caved. Instead of going after the life he wanted.

Kincaid took his seat behind the table, and while the opposing counsel launched into his opening argument, Kincaid’s mind wandered to Emma. He wondered what his daughter was doing right now. If she was on the beach or back at Darcy’s house. If she was playing with the stuffed animal he bought her or if she’d already forgotten about the day he’d spent with her.

And most of all, he wondered if Darcy would ever tell her that Mr. Foster was actually her father.

Just the mere thought of Darcy’s name made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t even begin to quantify. He missed her, like he had lost a limb. He’d thought it would be easier this time, after all his father had told him, but no, it was worse. A thousand times worse.

Not just because he had fallen for her again, and fallen so deep, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over her. But because of the betrayal. He thought he knew Darcy, knew her better than anyone he’d ever known in his life, but he’d been wrong. That knowledge still stunned him.

How could Darcy, one of the most honest people he’d met, turn into someone so cold and calculating? Someone who would use his child to set herself up with a house, a bank account, a future?

Sullivan, seated on Kincaid’s left, nudged him and leaned over to whisper in Kincaid’s ear. “Did you hear that? That idiot attorney of theirs just opened the door to allow us to bring in that evidence about price fixing that we thought the judge would disallow.”

That should be cause for celebration. Yet another nail in the coffin against Lennox. But Kincaid merely nodded, the fire for the argument already cold in his chest. But when the opposing counsel took his seat and it came time for Kincaid to begin his case, he got to his feet in the expensive suit and the expensive shoes and played the role he’d been destined for. Because it was what he knew best.

*~*~*

T
he divorce petition came
to Abby’s doorstep shortly after breakfast on Tuesday morning. Gordon had already included the draft of a hefty settlement and a generous alimony and child support package. Whatever her father had said to Gordon or threatened him with had clearly worked.

Abby put a hand on her belly. “We’re moving forward, kiddo. What say we go look at some houses today?”

The baby kicked, little gentle nudges against Abby’s hand. Abby smiled, then put on some comfortable shoes, grabbed her purse, and called out to the dog. She headed down the stairs and bypassed the car Kincaid had left her, opting to walk downtown instead. It was a beautiful day, with low humidity, and Lord only knew how many more opportunities she’d have to take a long walk in the next couple weeks.

Mooch started barking and ran off as they neared the downtown area. Abby cursed herself for not putting a leash on the dog. Ever since she entered the final month of her pregnancy, her mind had become a jumbled mess, and she forgot things more often than she remembered them. Maybe it was the restless nights, where she barely slept because she couldn’t get comfortable. Or maybe all the extra chocolate she’d consumed in the last couple days.

“Mooch!” Abby called, but the dog kept going, rounding a corner ahead of her. Abby picked up the pace, then slowed when her stomach cramped. She winced, let out a low breath, and pressed a hand against her abdomen. “Whoa, there, cowgirl. I’m just walking fast.”

The pain lingered a moment more, then passed. Abby started walking again, though not as fast this time. “Mooch! Get back here!”

Abby rounded the corner, and saw why the dog had taken off. Her tail was wagging at double speed, and she was licking the face of a very delighted six-year-old. Little Emma giggled and hugged the dog, her stuffed dog forgotten on the sidewalk beside her. Abby grinned at Darcy. “Looks like they are friends for life.”

“Emma loves dogs.” Darcy gestured toward Abby’s belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick and tired of being as big as a house. I’m ready for this baby to make her appearance. But not before I find a house to buy.” Abby swiped at her brow. Geesh, when did it get so hot out today? “I was just heading over to the local real estate office to ask about a little house I saw on Bayberry Lane.”