Maybe This Time (7 page)

Suddenly he felt light-headed. He had to get away before he passed out. Gripping the table with both hands he pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll notify you of the bank details in the morning.” Then he got up and walked away while he could still stand.

CHAPTER FOUR

E
MMA JUGGLED SHOPPING
bags full of baby things and the mail she’d collected from her box in the foyer and inserted the key to unlock her apartment door. After a nine-hour shift, then the mall, she was dying to shower, eat and put her feet up, not necessarily in that order.

She passed through the entry hall and into the small living room filled with inexpensive furniture she’d bought after the divorce. She hadn’t wanted anything from the old house, no reminders of the love and family and home she’d lost. Darcy had taken the beautiful red leather couch and chairs, the handmade teak coffee table and other unique pieces they’d collected together, and crammed them into his two-bedroom apartment above the pub. The pine coffee table and hard-wearing fabric couches she owned now held no memories and if she occasionally missed her old stuff, too bad. She needed to toughen up.

She sank onto the couch with her head on a cushion and her feet on the opposite arm and leafed through her mail. It felt good to lie down for a minute. She’d forgotten how pregnancy sapped her of energy.

The Monash University School of Nursing logo stared at her from the top left corner of an envelope. She tore it open. Her application had probably been rejected. After all, she’d already started it once, before she’d gotten pregnant with Holly, and quit. Having pulled out then might go against her now. And she’d applied late. Maybe the program was already full.

But she hoped not. She was counting on this extra degree to help her provide a good future for her and her baby. She quickly scanned the single typewritten sheet. Dear Ms. Lewis, yada, yada...

Approved.

She blinked and looked again, making sure she’d seen right, then grinned. Yes! She was in. It was all happening. The master’s, the baby. Everything she wanted was coming true for her.

Her smile faded. Not everything. Her marriage had fallen apart. She’d totally screwed up by getting pregnant with her ex-husband. Darcy didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby. When she’d told him she was pregnant he’d looked as if he might throw up. Then he’d stood and walked away from her and hadn’t come back.

Something had died inside her then, a tendril of hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been hanging on to. Even though it was what she’d expected, his reaction still hurt. Money was all he was willing or able to give. Nothing of himself, no love for his own baby, no warmth for her, the mother of his child.

Well, she didn’t want him. By his own admission and from her experience, he wasn’t husband and father material. He
could
be, if he wanted to be. He simply didn’t care about family as much as she did. Heat pricked the backs of her eyes and she pressed her fingers to them. Damn him. She’d thought she was beyond being hurt by him.

And how about his suggestion that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose? How insulting was that? Had he forgotten how quickly she’d become pregnant with Holly? She was obviously very fertile and his sperm so virile they’d done the backstroke up her vagina like mini champion athletes. On the cruise he was the one who’d started intercourse without a condom, assuming she still had an IUD.

Maybe she should have made it clear the second they’d entered his cabin that she didn’t, but she’d expected he would automatically reach for protection. They were too old to be carried away by the moment. But that’s what had happened. One thing hadn’t changed—the attraction between them. But a relationship couldn’t thrive on sex alone.

Bottom line, she was on her own. It might not be the way she wanted it but it was what she had to work with. She had to be practical not emotional, for the baby’s sake.

First thing Monday morning she would contact the School of Nursing and confirm her place in the program, look at the course requirements and find out times, etcetera. Then she’d talk to the hospital about managing her hours around her classes. She didn’t envisage any problem there. Barb was high up in administration, and besides being her friend, she was always encouraging the nursing staff to upgrade their qualifications.

Her stomach rumbled. Her meal of chicken salad at the food court was two hours ago. Another thing she’d forgotten, how ravenous she was all the time. She dragged herself off the couch and out to the kitchen to heat a bowl of minestrone soup in the microwave.

A week had passed since that night at the pub. Every day since she’d half expected to get a phone call from Darcy wanting to talk about the baby, but nothing. What kind of a man, even one who didn’t want to be a father, walked away from that kind of news with no discussion? Oh, the next day he’d sent her an email asking for bank details so he could deposit money for the baby. She’d deleted it without replying. Thought he could throw money at the problem and it would go away. Huh!

She ate her soup then put her dishes in the dishwasher and went to have a shower. The hot water streaming over her head and shoulders gradually eased some of the tension out of her knotted muscles. She needed to let the incident go. She’d told Darcy she didn’t want anything from him and she meant it. She just wished, for her baby’s sake, that he cared even a little.

She turned off the tap and stepped into the steamy bathroom. Even though it was only 7:00 p.m. and still light out she didn’t bother dressing again but put on a camisole and panties, ready for bed. Rubbing a clear patch on the foggy mirror she turned sideways, smoothing a hand over her flat stomach. No sign of a baby bump yet. Her breasts had started to swell, though, curving above the lacy camisole.

A knock at the door startled her. Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t know a soul in the building. Anyone from outside would ring the bell to be buzzed up. Pulling on a dressing gown, she went down the hall and put an eye to the peephole.

Darcy stood there, holding a fistful of purple irises and orange gerberas. Despite herself, she melted a little. Just when she was totally, completely angry and had decided she hated him, he brought her flowers.

Emma opened the door. One bare foot crept over to rest on top of the other. “What brings you here?”

He presented her with the bouquet. “Sorry I acted like a dickhead.”

Wearing his button-down shirt and with his tousled dark hair, he looked younger than his forty years and sexier than he had any right to. How could she possibly feel attracted when she was so angry at him?

Hell, why was she even angry? She wasn’t supposed to feel anything anymore. “Thanks,” she said, accepting the flowers. Their fingers brushed. Nope, she felt nothing. That was static from the carpet, not a spark of electricity.

Darcy’s gaze dipped to the neck of her robe where the top of her camisole showed. “Looks like I caught you at a bad time.”

“I go to bed early. I have to get up at five.” Now she was explaining in case he thought she was expecting someone. Which she had every right to do, if she wanted. Except that she wasn’t, and had no plans to go out with a man in the foreseeable future. Maybe someday, after the child was a few years old she would be ready to date again, but not with Darcy’s baby growing inside her.

“Apology accepted. Thanks for the flowers. Now if that’s all you came for...”

She wasn’t going to automatically invite him in. The apartment, even small and poorly furnished, was her sanctuary, one she’d painstakingly constructed after their divorce. Nothing from their life together existed in this apartment and that’s the way she wanted it. She had to cut out all traces of the past or she would end up reliving it every single day.

“It’s not.” He jammed his hands in his back pockets. “Can I come in so we can talk instead of me standing out here like a delivery man? Or we could go out for coffee. Five minutes, that’s all I ask.” The lines bracketing his mouth deepened.

Reluctantly, she relented. It had cost him something, coming here. A baby wasn’t his choice, but he was trying to make amends with her. Stepping back, she gestured to the arched opening on her right. “Take a seat. I’ll put some clothes on.”

She slipped into her bedroom, tugged on a pair of leggings and threw on the green silk top hanging on the back of the door. Too late she realized he’d given her the blouse for Christmas the year she’d had Holly. What the hell. She tugged it down over her hips. No sense being neurotic about this. Getting rid of all her clothes wasn’t practical. Likely he wouldn’t even remember, or care about the associated memories if he did.

She stood at the dresser to brush her hair. Was she trying to look nice for him? No, her hair was ruffled from the shower cap. She would have done it for anyone. She ran the brush through her hair with her vigorous strokes. She hated second-guessing everything she did. As if she was nervous.

Although if she was honest, she
did
want to look her best around Darcy. She wanted him to regret that he’d lost her. What did it matter if it was out of vanity or pride? She would hate him to think she’d fallen apart without him.

She was the organized one, the one in control of herself and her life. He was the one who always had projects planned that never got finished. Even though he was a hard worker, he tended to procrastinate. Look at the pub. He should have at least painted when he’d taken over from his dad, but had he? No. He hadn’t changed a single thing regardless of how tired or worn-out the pub appeared.

Not that she cared what Darcy did with the pub or anything else.

He was perusing her bookshelf stuffed with crime novels when she came out. Only because he was too impatient to sit, not because he would ever actually read a book, God forbid. Funny how the things she’d overlooked as being unimportant when they were married had became huge deficiencies once they’d split. How could she have married a man who didn’t read? Who would rather do any activity at all rather than sit quietly with a book?

She perched on the edge of the couch, resisting the urge to tuck her hands between her knees. “What can I do for you?”

He sat in the chair opposite, his legs sprawled and his arms relaxed. “I wanted to apologize for my reaction last week. It can’t have been easy for you to come there and tell me you were pregnant, not after...everything.”

It had taken him a whole week to come around to that conclusion? He had her phone number. He could have called to say this. Or emailed. Or sent her a text message. She supposed he deserved points for saying it in person.

“I hope you’ve recovered from your shock enough to realize I didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I knew how you felt about having another child. I wouldn’t knowingly bring a kid into the world whose father didn’t want him.”

“I believe you.”

A tiny wash of relief took the tension out of her shoulders. Even after all they’d been through, his opinion still mattered to her and she hated to think he believed her capable of something so underhanded and manipulative. Part of what she’d always loved about him was how he looked for, and saw, the best in people.

She leaned back and smoothed out the hem of her blouse. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you. I wanted to see how you were.”

“As you can see, I’m fine.” She gestured around the apartment. “I’ve got a nice place to live. I’ve got my job. I’m pregnant. Even though the situation wasn’t planned and I’m going to be a single mum instead of having a family, I’m really happy about the baby. Everything’s working out.” She brightened and leaned forward again. “And I’ve just been accepted into the master’s of nursing program.”

“The master’s program?” He frowned. “Are you still going to have time for that? Even when we were together and you were only nursing part-time you found it hard to juggle work and caring for Holly.”

No thanks to him! She opened her mouth, wanting to snap out that she would have found studying easier if he’d helped out more, taken an active role in baby care instead of always, always going to the pub.

Yes, Darcy worked long hours and she’d been part-time—they’d needed both incomes. But that didn’t stop her from resenting the time he spent at the pub. He loved socializing with customers and his friends who dropped in. Sometimes she wondered if he’d loved the social scene more than her and Holly. And though she could never prove it, and he would deny it if asked, she wondered if he spent more time there than strictly necessary to get away from the chaotic home life with a baby and then a toddler.

But she bit her tongue and said nothing. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. She rested a hand on her abdomen and breathed slowly and calmly. Water under the bridge. Let it flow away and take her anger with it. “I can handle it.”

“If anyone can, you will. But, Emma...” Darcy leaned forward, elbows on knees, as if finally getting around to the reason for his visit. Even then he didn’t speak right away but stared at the carpet. Finally, he looked up. “Are you emotionally ready for a baby? It’s awfully soon after...Holly. Are you doing this for the right reasons, or are you trying to fill a gap in your life?”

The emotional seesaw in Emma’s heart that continually teetered between love and resentment tipped sharply toward the latter. What right did he have to even ask these questions? They were divorced. How dare he act as if he still cared or even had a say in her emotional welfare?

“
Soon?
It’s been a year and a half. I’m thirty-five, not getting any younger.” Emma got to her feet and paced the small space between the couch and the coffee table. “As for a gap in my life, yes, there’s a huge gap that I want to fill. I had a family. Now I don’t. I want children. You don’t give up just because tragedy strikes. Or, rather, some people don’t.” She ignored his slight flinch. He wanted to be blunt—she would be, too. “Are you talking about me or yourself, because you can’t handle the thought of being responsible for another baby?”

“I’m talking about you, of course. According to you, this doesn’t affect me.” His voice held a trace of bitterness.