A Husband For The Holidays. Ami Weaver

“Chase. Drop it.”

      His brother looked at him hard and Mack managed not to flinch. Chase gave a short nod. “All right.”

      Mack let out a silent exhale. The only way he’d get through this was if people left him alone. All the well-meaning looks and questions were driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to self-destruct just because Darcy was home. Or because she’d leave again.

      Because this time she wasn’t leaving him behind. He’d walk away first.

       Chapter Four

      Darcy walked into Java, the local coffee shop, with her laptop bag on her shoulder. Internet at the farm was slow and spotty at best. She needed to check in at work, and this was the best way to do it. She stepped up to the counter, smiled at the barista she didn’t recognize and ordered a latte. Then she settled in at a table by the window and booted up her computer.

      She frowned at the sheer number of emails. It’d been only a few days since she left, and there were nearly a hundred of them. Many of them from her team on the Grant project. Her phone didn’t work reliably up here, either. Apparently the farm was in a technological dead zone. With a sigh, she opened the first one, called her assistant and expected to be putting out fires.

      So she didn’t see Mack until he was right across from her. She looked up and her heart caught. She didn’t hear what her assistant said and had to ask her to repeat. She pulled her computer closer, opening a space on the other side of the table, and gave him a nod. God only knew what this would do to gossip.

      When she managed to hang up, he arched an eyebrow. “Problems?”

      “I’ve got it under control,” she said, and gave a sharp little laugh. “They take credit for the good stuff, but as soon as things turn into a flaming pile of poo they bail and blame me.”

      “Why do you put up with it?”

      The question stopped her hand in midlift of her now cool latte. Why did she? “I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”

      Mack shook his head. “Sounds as if you need a new team.”

      She set her cup down. “I’ve got it under control,” she repeated. She wasn’t sure why her temper was sparking. Why he’d touched a nerve with a simple observation. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I’m not going to quit.”

      “No?” His voice was deadly soft. “Isn’t that what you do?”

      Her gaze snapped to his, but his was carefully blank. Temper surged, and she welcomed its heat because his words left her cold. “No. I don’t. I didn’t.”

      “Sure you did. You never gave us a chance, Darcy.”

      Darcy’s jaw nearly hit the table. “This is not the place for this conversation.” She snapped the laptop closed, hands shaking with fury. “In fact, there’s no place for this conversation because that would imply we had something to talk about.”

      “Easy,” he said softly. “We’re being watched.”

      Of course they were. She bit back a sharp retort and slid the laptop into her bag. She offered him a stiff smile. “Enjoy your coffee.”

      She stood and spun around. Her bag caught on the chair and sent it toppling to the floor. Every head turned, but Mack was off his chair before she could move. He picked up the chair and slid a hand under her elbow. “I’m sorry,” he said in her ear as he guided her to the door. She just shook her head, because any words she had for him weren’t fit for anyone to overhear. Outside she yanked her arm away and walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction of where he was. Which, she realized after about twenty steam-fueled steps, was away from her car. Which sat in front of the coffee shop. Where Mack stood.

      She stopped, shut her eyes, then pivoted. He had his hands in his pockets. He tipped his head toward her car.

      She lifted her chin and walked back. When she got close enough to kick him—which was awfully tempting—he caught her arm. “Darcy. I’m sorry.”

      She looked him in the eye and saw the remorse there. “It’s too late, Mack. Sorry isn’t enough.”

      She got in her car and managed to get onto the street with tears burning in her eyes. Oh, no, sorry wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. And she knew that from years of being sorry for how things ended with their marriage. From knowing she could never go back and fix it. Go back and handle it differently, right down to deciding to turn left instead of right.

      To save the baby he’d wanted so desperately. When she hadn’t been ready to be a mother. She’d barely been ready to be a wife. But she’d gotten pregnant and he’d insisted they marry.

      As always, when it came to Mack, she’d been unable to say no.

      A sob escaped her and she swiped at her eyes. He had every right to be angry—but she wasn’t that young woman anymore. She hadn’t been since she lost their baby. She’d grown up in those awful hours after the accident that had fractured their marriage. She hadn’t needed him to take care of her. She’d just needed him to be there for her. And he hadn’t been able to understand the difference.

      He hadn’t been wrong. She had quit. She’d run away because it was easier than facing everyone else’s pain when she could barely tolerate her own.

      So no, he hadn’t been wrong.

      But to hear it from him tore her up inside.

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, Darcy had managed to put the whole thing behind her. Mostly. Now she stood behind the cash register—an old one, nothing electric about it—and smiled at the young couple paying for the tree. They were probably a little older than she and Mack had been, but her heart tugged all the same. Had she ever been that young and in love?

      She watched as the husband dropped a kiss on the woman’s temple. Oh, yes. She had been. But she’d been uneasy in her marriage and Mack had been so confident. This couple didn’t look unbalanced like that.

      “This is our first tree together,” the woman said, beaming at her husband, who gave her an indulgent smile, then left to talk to Mack, who had the tree. Darcy forced her gaze to stick to the woman in front of her.

      “Congratulations,” she said a little too cheerfully. “How long have you been married?”

      “Eight months.” The woman pulled out a check and when she stooped to write it Darcy saw the rounding of her stomach. She saw herself at the same time, the same place and the world tilted. In spite of her best efforts, her gaze shot to Mack, who had his back to her. This is how we could have been, should have been.

      “Are you all right?” The woman frowned, tore off the check and held it out. “You look awfully pale.”

      Darcy forced a smile back on her face as she took the piece of paper. “Headaches. They come on fast.”

      The other woman’s face cleared. “I’m sorry. Hope you feel better. Merry Christmas!”

      “Merry Christmas,” Darcy echoed and watched as she walked to her husband, who slipped a protective arm around her and dropped another kiss on her head. She tilted her chin up to him, love shining on her face.

      Longing and sorrow swamped her, hard and fast, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, willing it all away. She’d been so good at not feeling anything for these past few years, and now one happy couple had undone all that hard work.

      “Darce.” Mack’s voice, laced with concern. How had he seen? Where had he come from? She looked up at him, but his face was suspiciously blurry. She blinked.

      “I need some air,” she said. “Can you watch the register for me?”

      Then she bolted.

      *