“No, it’s the thin border of paler skin around your hairline. And the sprinkling of dark hair trimmings on your shirt.”
Riley grinned and brushed off his shoulders. “Very impressive. Can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”
“I said I had powers of observation, not the ability to read minds.” He wished he could read Emma’s mind. She’d been brooding over something the other day. He would like to know what it was. She’d seemed to like staying with him at his apartment. Was it possible she regretted leaving? The place was too small, too cluttered with furniture, for the three of them for very long.
“Seriously, what are you going to do with yourself? Are you going on a holiday?” He eyed Darcy over the rim of his cup. “Perhaps with a certain mother and child?”
“I want more than a weekend with Emma. I want the rest of my life with her,” Darcy said, spilling his guts. “I’ve never stopped loving her, not even when I thought I had. How am I going to convince her to risk another chance on me? I screwed up so badly the first time.”
“Just you? Marriage is usually a team effort.”
“Okay, we were both at fault. But that’s because we were hurting.”
“Have you got that sorted now?”
Darcy thought of the afternoon when they’d taken down the photos. He was afraid of the strength of his feelings sometimes. Love, grief, regret...they seemed too big for his chest to contain.
He and Emma had done more than mourn their daughter’s loss, although that had been cathartic. They’d both opened up for the first time since Holly died, gotten some things off their chests they should have been able to talk about at the time, but hadn’t. Guilt was a terrible burden. “I reckon we have got it sorted. Maybe not completely but we’ve made a good start.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Go jump off that pier.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EMMA PICKED UP the landline to dial Darcy’s number. There was no dial tone. Odd. “Hello?”
“Emma?”
“Darcy? I just picked up the phone to call you.”
“I dialed, but it didn’t ring.”
“Great minds think alike.” She smiled, glad to hear his voice. “What were you calling about?”
“You go first.”
“No, you.” She paced the kitchen. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t as though she was going to propose over the phone. She was only calling to ask him out on a date.
“How’s Billy?”
It was always his first question. She loved him for it. “He’s in his high chair, spreading pabulum all over the tray.” She moved the receiver close to Billy. “Daddy’s on the phone.”
Billy slammed his hand into the puddle of mush and splashed it onto his face. “Goo!”
“Did you hear that?” Emma said. “I think he understood what I was saying.”
“Clearly. And he thinks my name is Mr. Magoo.”
“Did you call to ask after Billy?”
“Not entirely.” Darcy cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you and Billy would like to go on a picnic.”
A picnic.
Why a picnic? Picnics were a symbol of everything that had been wrong with their marriage. If only he’d gone on a picnic with her and Holly—
No, she couldn’t stay stuck in that mind groove, blaming him for what happened. That afternoon at the pub when they’d cried in each other’s arms should have cured her of that. Guess it was harder than she thought to change well-worn thought patterns. But she would, because if she ever wanted to be with him again, they needed to start on a clean slate.
And maybe a picnic was symbolic for him, too, of a desire and determination to make up for the past, and to show her that he was willing to change.
“Em, are you still there?”
“A picnic would be lovely. What should I bring?”
“I’ve got it covered. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
She clicked off the phone and picked up Billy, twirling with him in her arms. He giggled. “We’re going on a picnic. We’re going on a picnic.”
Humming a salsa beat, she danced to the nursery to change his diaper and dress him in a clean T-shirt and track pants. Then she carried him to her bedroom to get herself ready. Stroke of luck that Darcy had wanted to see her today, the day she’d chosen to make her bid for his future. Was it a coincidence or was it a sign the universe was conspiring to bring them together?
Still holding Billy she stood before her closet. “What should I wear, skirt