that when he’d been changing Holly and she’d fallen off the changing table she’d landed on her head on a wood floor. She hadn’t gone unconscious, in fact, she’d barely cried and hadn’t seemed fazed in the least. He’d rushed her to the hospital where Emma had met him. Holly had been checked out by a doctor and pronounced fine.
He’d felt so badly afterward that he’d driven Emma nuts asking if Holly was acting normally, if she was on course for being at the right developmental stage for her age. Emma hadn’t reported anything amiss, but Darcy had always been waiting for the injury to manifest itself in some horrible, irreparable way.
Now Holly was gone and there was no point telling this particular story. But the experience had frightened the hell out of him as a new father.
“I saw Emma the other day at the gas station,” Riley said after a moment.
“How was she?”
“Not great. She has a bad cold or the flu. She could barely talk...she was too busy coughing up a lung.”
“I told her that would happen. What about the baby? Is he sick, too?”
“I peered through the car window because I haven’t seen the mystery kid yet. Even though I was godfather to your first child. His nose was running but that could have been because he was crying.”
Darcy didn’t want to feel a tug at his heart. But he did. Damn it, of course he cared about his child. Billy was a little over two months old. He must be starting to smile, and doing other stuff. He, Darcy, was missing out on all the stages of his child’s life.
He swept up the paint and fabric samples and put them in a big manila envelope. He hated to think of Emma trying to cope with everything and being sick, as well. It was one thing for her to play around with her own health, but she had no right to put his son’s health in jeopardy. “I’m going to go see Emma and Billy.”
Riley sipped his beer. “I thought you might.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
DARCY STABBED EMMA’S doorbell outside her apartment building a second time. She was taking ages to answer. Maybe she wasn’t home. Maybe she was feeling better and had gone out. But he didn’t think so.
“Hello?” she croaked over the intercom.
“It’s me. Can you buzz me through?”
“This isn’t a good time, Darcy.”
He couldn’t tell her he knew she was sick or she would deny it up and down. But if she thought he needed her—if she thought anyone needed her—Emma wouldn’t refuse.
“I’m renovating the pub. I was hoping you could give me some advice on the color scheme.”
There was a long silence. Darcy kicked a pebble off the mat, took two paces away and came back. Pressed her bell again. “Emma, are you still there?”
“Come up.” She pressed the buzzer.
Darcy didn’t know what he’d expected but the sight that met his eyes when Emma opened her door left him speechless. She had deteriorated significantly in the two days since he’d seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair lank. Thick wool work socks protruded beneath her quilted dressing gown. She held a tissue pressed to her pink, chafed nose. Her movements were slow and stiff, as if every joint and muscle ached.
“You look like death warmed over.”
“I’ve got a spring cold.”
“I’m no doctor, but I think what you have is more than a cold.” He glanced over her shoulder into the apartment. It looked as if a bomb had exploded in a clothing factory. There was laundry everywhere, on the furniture, on the floor, not all of it clean.
Without waiting for her to ask him in, he walked into the living room. Nursing textbooks and papers covered the dining table, along with dirty dishes and used coffee mugs. He peeked into the kitchen. More dishes were piled on the counter and in the sink. The garbage was overflowing. He discreetly sniffed. Dirty diapers. Food left out on the counter.
This wasn’t like Emma. She was an immaculate housekeeper. Even when Holly had been a baby the chaos had been controlled. At times the house might have been untidy but Emma always kept things clean. He’d tried to do his share of housework but she preferred to do it herself so she knew it was done to her standards. Now, her living space looked like a homeless person’s nest under a bridge. Magnified a hundred times.
In the nursery, the baby was crying. Emma paid no attention. She blew