A Family Come True. Kris Fletcher

point. But you know sometimes a distraction is all she needs to get herself back on track.”

      Must he always be right?

      “What about work? You’re not off tomorrow, and I’m swamped.”

      “Everyone’s out of my office tomorrow anyway. Training. As for you—” his eye roll would have made a teenager proud “—you work from home, remember? Take your laptop with you.”

      “And how much will I get done without being able to drop Cady at day care? I know she’s only there part-time, but I get a heck of a lot done in those three hours.”

      “Hello? Doting grandmother?”

      Damn him. “But...Ian, look. You have a close family. It’s nothing for you to call and say, ‘Hi, Mom. Change of plans. I’m coming home early.’ It’s not like that for me and Nonny.” At least it hadn’t been lately.

      “Actually,” he began, but then gave an impatient sort of shake. “Whatever. It was just a suggestion.”

      “Wait a minute. Actually what?”

      “Nothing that matters right now. You would really rather stay here?”

      “Yes, I would rather stay here.” At least, rather than go to Comeback Cove. “What are you hiding?”

       “Me?”

      “Yes, you. You’re hiding something and you know it.” About his family? Or was it the ex?

      Nonny had alluded to some issue back when she’d called to ask Darcy to rent to him. At that point, Darcy had simply wanted someone to keep the grass cut and the house safe when she was traveling for her job as personal assistant to her mother—something that used to happen a lot, since Sylvie juggled careers as an actress, an author and a coach at the Stratford Festival. All that had mattered at that point was that he be polite, solvent and not inclined toward murder. The fact that he was one of the North brothers—part of the big, noisy crew that had both terrified and fascinated her on her childhood visits to the Cove—had been a happy bonus.

      It wasn’t until he’d been around for a while that Nonny had mentioned a broken engagement. It was only in the past few months that Ian himself had said anything about it, and then only an occasional, casual reference—“Taylor and I went there”—the way he would talk about an old friend. Never any details. And try though Darcy might, she had never been able to get Nonny to spill. It was Ian’s story to share, she’d insisted.

      Damn her moral code.

      He stretched long legs out in front of him. “Sorry, Darce, but when it comes to hiding things you kind of won that round.”

      Busted. “Okay. I’m not one to talk. If it matters, I can’t count how many times I was tempted to tell you the truth. About Xander, I mean.”

      “I believe you.” He paused. “For the record, I was kind of tweaked that you hadn’t said anything. Not that you owed me or anyone an explanation, but I thought... Anyway, having heard the whole story it makes sense. In your shoes I would have done the same thing.”

      “That’s good. I’m glad.” She smiled before pouncing. “So...actually what?”

      “Actually, I’d better call my mother and tell her I won’t be coming home for Father’s Day after all.”

      “Wait— Who— What?”

      He stretched his arms high overhead, reaching toward the robin’s-egg blue of the porch ceiling. “You heard me.”

      “You’re not going.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Because of me?”

      “No. Because of Xander.”

      “But I told you, he never... I mean, damn it, Ian. I appreciate everything you did today, believe me, but I don’t need a babysitter. This is my mess and I will get through it.”

      “I know you will.”

      “So?”

      “So maybe I want to hang around and see what happens.”

      Oh, no. The caveman was supposed to be gone.

      “What are you gonna do, Ian? Shadow me for the rest of my life in case Xander catches me all alone?”

      “Nope.”

      She waited. Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming.

      She eyed the beer. Maybe if she shook it up and sprayed him...

      “Why are you so determined to do this?”

      He shrugged and grabbed the bottle—jeez, it was as if he really could read her mind—and rocked back in his chair. “Honestly? I don’t know. But it feels right.”

      “Because you don’t trust Xander? Or— Wait. Do you think I’m dumb enough to get drunk and pregnant again?”

      “No!”

      The shock on his face reassured her. No one was that good an actor, and, having spent much of her life haunting stages waiting for her mother, she should know.

      “Then what’s the problem? Ian, I’m a big girl. I don’t like this situation, but I’ll manage. I know I was a total basket case when I first had Cady, but on the whole, I’m organized, competent and reasonable. I can handle this.”

      “I think that’s it.”

      “What’s what?”

      “I know you can handle this. Alone.” He leaned forward, quietly serious. “But what kind of friend would I be if I made you do that?”

      Oh.

      She had no comeback for that one. Maybe because it was so unexpected.

      Maybe because she couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel that her happiness mattered to them.

      “Make you a deal,” she said softly. “You want to be a friend to me? I’m all for that. But it’s about time I returned the favor. See, I have this suspicion that I’m not the only one who’s been dealing with things solo for too long.”

      “What’s that mean?”

      “It means that sometimes you get this look like...” Almost like the way he had looked when she had handed Cady to him and told him she had to talk to Xander. “Like someone just pushed you over a cliff.”

      He tipped the chair back. The soft creak of the rocker made her wince and wonder if she had pushed too far.

      “Fine,” he said at last. “Since you’re coming with me anyway—”

      “If I go with you,” she reminded him, though it was pretty much an auto-response. She wasn’t at all surprised when he waved it away.

      “Everything will come out one way or another. You might as well hear it from me.”

      He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and stared out at the road. She gave him the time it took to eat one chip. As soon as it was gone she stretched out her foot and nudged his leg.

      “You falling asleep on me, North?”

      “Trying to figure out where to start.”

      “Well, you know what the song says. Start at the beginning.”

      “The very beginning,” he corrected.

      “Details, details.” She bit her lip, debated and decided to go for broke. “Is it about Taylor?”

      “Yeah.” But the way he drew out his reply told her there was more to it than that. “Okay.” He blew out a short breath as if readying himself for a race. “You know that I spent some time working in Tanzania.”

      “Right.