was definitely bothering her. Now Emma regretted more than ever not keeping in better contact with her. It was a shame her sister had done a complete one-eighty about her plans for a family. Tessa was the sweetest kid.
Emma looked at the house. As if she’d sensed her aunt’s thoughts the little girl stood at the window, waving goodbye. She was wearing the tiara. Emma blew her a kiss. Alana didn’t know how lucky she was.
And now Emma was lucky, too, to be having another baby. She hoped Darcy wouldn’t be too upset, but even if he was, she couldn’t be more thrilled.
* * *
ANOTHER FRIDAY NIGHT at the pub, another big crowd.
Darcy held the pub door open for the departing white-haired woman in blue jeans and sensible shoes. Tony had brought his grandmother, Shirley, in for a drink on her seventieth birthday. “Happy birthday. See you next time.”
“Thank you, Darcy. I had a very enjoyable evening.” Shirley clutched the ten dollars she’d won from Tony’s mates at the shuffleboard table.
“You’re a shark,” Darcy said, and winked at Tony.
“Cheers, mate,” Tony said to Darcy. “This way, Gran.” Tattooed arm extended, he gently steered his grandmother toward his utility truck.
Darcy glanced across the street. The lights were on in the vacant shop. Wayne was inside, reeling out a tape measure. So, it was starting to happen. Darcy wasn’t against competition, but he had to admit the location of the wine bar wasn’t the greatest. Why couldn’t Wayne have gone to Mornington or Frankston?
Darcy was about to go inside when he noticed Emma walking toward the pub. As she passed beneath the streetlight her red hair glowed. What was she doing here? It couldn’t be because she’d missed him. He hadn’t heard from her since the cruise. Not that he’d expected, or wanted, to. All that angst was too much hard work.
He had to admire the graceful way she moved, though, even walking across the road. She wore a knit wrap dress that clung to her curves and her hips swayed almost as if she was dancing. Darcy had gone to a Latin dance club in the city last week but had left after half an hour. It hadn’t felt right. Now dancing was lost to him along with football and an appreciation for a fine whiskey.
Emma stopped at the curb to let a car go by. Darcy ducked inside the pub, seeking his own turf and friendly, familiar faces. Maybe she wasn’t even coming here. Maybe she’d been visiting someone and her car was simply parked on this side of the street.
Emma walked through the door. Nope, guess not.
A pair of very young women slid onto newly vacated bar stools. He turned to them, grateful for the diversion. “What’s your pleasure, ladies?”
“Two apple martinis,” the blonde said. The brunette nodded, giggling.
Darcy smiled indulgently. “Can I see your ID?”
They dutifully pulled out their wallets and he scrutinized their driver’s licenses. They were legal. Just. “Two appletinis coming right up.”
Emma found an empty seat at a table next to the wall and fiddled with the drinks menu, flipping through the plastic-coated cards listing the specialty beers and ciders. She hadn’t tried to make eye contact yet. Darcy knew because he kept her in his peripheral vision as he poured shots of green-apple schnapps and vodka into the cocktail shaker along with crushed ice. He made a big show of shaking the container and joking with the girls as he strained the frosty mix into cocktail glasses. They giggled some more as they sipped through tiny straws. Eat your heart out, Wayne.
Emma was still waiting to be served. Damn it, where was Kirsty, or Elise, the weekend barmaid? Hefting heavy trays of beer on the other side of the pub, no doubt. Darcy lifted the partition separating the bar from the room and went to Emma’s table. “What can I get you?”
“Can you sit down a moment? We need to talk.”
He gave an incredulous laugh. “Em, this is the busiest hour of the busiest night of the week. Come back tomorrow morning, then we can talk. Meantime, would you like a chardonnay? It’s on the house.”
“No, thank you. I can’t drink alcohol.”
“Since when? You love your chardy.” The only time she’d ever refused a glass of wine was when—
Her eyes were locked with his. Even so it took two long beats before realization hit him like a cold wet bar towel across the face. No, she couldn’t be.