“Consider it my payment for psychotherapy.” Darcy dropped ice cubes into colorful outdoor glasses and poured the tea. They settled at the kitchen table. “If I hadn’t been able to vent to you, I hate to think what I might have done. It makes me so angry that he completely dismissed what I said about Willow.”
Jordan sipped her tea, cocked her head, and looked wise. “Are any of his family coming to visit? Are you still friends with any of them—the sisters, maybe?”
“I wish. I don’t know. The first year, I missed Irena and Lena. I think I enjoyed being with them more than with Boyz. They were nice to me. His parents were always stuck-up. We’re out of touch now, not even a Christmas card.” Darcy stirred her tea. “Jordan, what should I do? About Willow, I mean.”
“I think you have to let it go,” Jordan said. “If Boyz doesn’t believe you, what can you do? He told you they were good parents, he might pay closer attention to what Willow’s doing, but you’ve got to stay out of it.”
“She’s a vulnerable young girl—”
“But not your young girl.”
“Still…it makes me feel uneasy.”
“Get over it. Forget it. Let’s move on to the good stuff—like when’s your date with Clive Rush?”
Darcy laughed. “It’s not a date, Jordan. Or if it is, we’ve got our own version of a duenna. Mimi is coming with us.” As she talked, her fears for Willow dissipated and her own life filled her thoughts. “It’s tomorrow night. And I’ve planned my menu around Mimi. I hope the weather holds and we can eat in the backyard. I don’t want to embarrass her by serving something she has to cut, like steak, because I’m not sure how strong her hands are. So I’m making a casserole of rice, shrimp, scallops, and bacon. I thought of linguini, but that might be tricky for Mimi, too. It’s hard to wind those noodles onto a fork….And no salad greens, especially arugula, because it’s impossible to eat elegantly. Bartlett’s tomatoes, sliced.”
“Sounds delicious, Darcy. What’s for dessert?”
“Cups of cold chocolate mousse. Gosh, I’d better stop talking and go home and start cooking. I work tomorrow, so I’ll have to prepare the mousse today.” She rose and took her car keys from her tote.
“Have you told Nash you’ve got a date?” Jordan asked.
“Jordan, it’s not a date!” Darcy sank back down into her chair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. No, I haven’t told Nash, but do I need to? We’re not exclusive—we haven’t said the magic L word. I’m absolutely not going to have sex with Clive tomorrow night. Mimi will be with us all the time.”
Jordan gave Darcy a long, challenging look.
“Okay, fine,” Darcy capitulated. “I’ll tell Nash tonight. But it’s not a date.”
—
Darcy didn’t want to tell Nash face-to-face because she was afraid she’d blush or look guilty or seem as if she was trying to manipulate Nash into being jealous and forcing him to tell her he wanted them to date each other exclusively. She didn’t want him to feel caged, and she didn’t want to feel caged, either. Okay, what she had with Nash sexually was like nothing else she’d ever known, but she’d hardly had a lot of sexual partners, and anyway, sex wasn’t everything!
She spent the day preparing for Tuesday night, then showered and washed her hair and finally, with a glass of wine in her hand, she hit Nash’s number. It was dusk outside; he would be home.
“Hey,” Nash answered. “I was getting ready to call you.”
“How was your day?” Darcy asked.
“Unusual.” Nash laughed. He was part of a crew working on the roof of a huge new house. They’d finished putting up the scaffolding and got up on the roof to shingle, and Juan, a huge, strong guy from the Dominican Republic, who could carry twice the weight of any other man, discovered that he had acrophobia. He’d never been up so high before, and when he looked out at the view, he became paralyzed. He couldn’t move up, down, or sideways. It had taken the better part of an hour for Nash and another man to get on either side of him, keep their hands on Juan’s arm, and slowly back him down to the staging platform. It was funny, but it was also scary, because each of the guys helping Juan could use only one hand to keep purchase on the roof, and moving Juan was like tugging a grand piano. Then, when they finally got Juan down to the staging platform, he threw up. The crew had to deal with hosing it all down, and that was disgusting. When Juan’s feet finally touched the ground, he fell over in a dead faint, coming one inch from a metal rod that could have slammed open his skull. They turned the hose on Juan to shock him out of his faint.