“I know. I couldn’t live on the island otherwise. And this house is special to me. I hope I never have to leave it. It’s in a perfect location, and it’s got the fabulous backyard, and”—she swallowed the words: It’s so big that if I ever marry and have children—“there’s lots of room.”
She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. But they were talking, inching into intimate territory, and her anger, her sense of betrayal, evaporated, leaving hope in its place.
“Come have dinner,” she said. “Let’s dish it up and we can eat in here and watch the Red Sox.”
“Ah, you seductive wench,” Nash said, rising and pulling her to him.
She stepped back. “Stop that or you’ll be eating dinner at midnight.” A surge of power rushed through her when she spoke those words, when she backed away even though her body craved his like air and light.
The pot roast was delicious, and it was a luxury to eat a hot meal while sitting in a cool, dry house. The Red Sox won their game. Darcy led Nash upstairs, where they made easy, lazy love, and Nash went home and Darcy fell asleep with a smile on her face.
—
That Sunday Nash went sports fishing with friends, a strenuous sport that would have them rolling on the heaving Atlantic. They would return late in the evening with bluefin tuna and sunburns, and Monday morning most of them would be hung over.
Darcy decided to give herself a Self-centered day, which was the opposite of her Perfect Darcy day. She avoided her computer as if it had a contagious virus. She’d prepared for today the night before, when she bought ice cream and ready-made salads and microwavable lasagna, and she vowed to stay in her silk kimono all day. She’d taken a few enticing books from the library and began her day by curling up on the sofa, drinking coffee, eating not one but two chocolate croissants from the Nantucket Bake Shop, and reading.
When she was younger, she could read all day without stopping. Of course she could, because some adult, usually her grandmother, took care of everything—food, shelter, all her personal needs. Also, whomever she stayed with—Penny or one of Lala’s daffy relatives—seemed to like Darcy most when she was quiet, tucked into a corner, asking for nothing, needing to go nowhere. She learned to go everywhere through books.
She’d finished her coffee and croissant and the first two chapters of the compelling mystery when someone knocked on her front door. Susan’s probably out of milk again, Darcy thought with a smile. She strolled to the door and pulled it open. And stopped smiling.
Boyz stood there, all Ralph Lauren in his golf shirt and Bermuda shorts and loafers without socks. He’d gotten a beautiful tan, so even it looked painted on, and his hair gleamed in the sunlight.
“Boyz!”
“Hey, Darce. Could I come in? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“Um, okay….” She led him into the living room. “Would you like some coffee?” She couldn’t help it; she was relieved and a little smug because she was wearing the silk kimono when she could have easily been clad in an old T-shirt.
“Thanks, no. I’ve finished breakfast, had enough caffeine to blast me to Mars. Autumn and Willow are still sleeping. That’s why I decided to come over now.”
“Oh?” Darcy said, slightly wary. She motioned to a chair. “Sit down.” She took the chair across from him.
Boyz set his elbows on his knees with his hands dangling down between his widely planted legs.
Oh, please, Darcy thought, don’t call my attention to your equipment. I’m so over you.
Boyz got right to it. “I need to talk to you about Willow. No insult intended, just a friendly observation, from a man who knows you well, who understands what you lack and what you need.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose in confused disgust. “Wait, what?” The moment the words left her mouth, she realized that was exactly the way Willow spoke.
“I know you’re sore about me and Autumn. I know your pride’s been mangled and you’re unsure of your desirability. It’s absolutely understandable. Anyone would feel that way. But, Darcy, honey, it’s kind of foul play to bring Willow into the mix. She’s a young, impressionable girl. She might get the idea you like her for herself.”
Had the man gone insane? Darcy’s eyes widened. “But, Boyz, I do like her!”
“Come on, Darce, don’t forget I was married to you for three years. I know you inside and out.” Boyz treated her to one of his superalluring lascivious grins.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Darcy said.
“If you want to get together with me, privately, I mean, I’d be all over that like white on rice, but it’s not necessary for you to try to sneak in through the back door.”