to sleep. The next cry was louder and piercing and seemed to penetrate his brain.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he muttered.
He went into Billy’s bedroom and picked the baby out of the bassinet. Billy rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. He was a small bundle of solid warmth. Darcy was getting familiar with the routine instead of panicking and wondering what to do. He knew what to do. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”
Billy’s response was to cry louder.
Darcy didn’t recall Holly being so demanding. But maybe when she woke in the night he’d simply rolled over and gone back to sleep, leaving Emma to get up. Back then he’d rationalized that because he worked till 2:00 a.m. most nights he needed his sleep. Emma had never complained, never nudged him out of bed. She’d always wanted to get Holly.
Hadn’t she? It occurred to him that he’d never asked.
Should he take Billy to Emma for her to nurse? No, she was still recovering and needed her sleep. He would feed Billy himself. If he was tired tomorrow, so be it.
Jiggling Billy in his arms in an attempt to keep him quiet, he shut Emma’s door and padded out to the kitchen. He didn’t know any lullabies so he crooned a Spanish love song while he made up a bottle of formula. At least this part he had down pat. Through trial and error he’d determined the exact number of seconds in the microwave to heat the bottle to perfection.
When he was ready he sank into an armchair in the living room. It was dark except for the glow of the streetlight outside. There were still voices on the street and the sound of vehicle doors slamming. The whirring noise must be the fire hose recoiling onto the truck.
Darcy shut them all out and focused on the baby in his arms. Little beggar sucked greedily. Darcy dabbed at a drool of milk leaking from the corner of Billy’s mouth. When Emma was fully recovered she would leave and take Billy with her. That idea should have been welcome—taking care of the baby had been tough. Instead, he felt oddly at a loss at the thought of not having Billy around.
His mind drifted. What if he and Emma were to get back together? The scenario unfurled before him—a second wedding, maybe even an exotic honeymoon in Argentina, where they could dance the tango. Then back home to settle down, in a house, of course. Billy would need a yard to play in when he got older.
Here, the images started to darken. At first everything would be wonderful and they would be happy. Gradually old habits would return. Emma would take over Billy’s care again, shutting Darcy out. He would retreat to the bar. She would get pissed at him over being away so much. He would spend even more time with his mates and his pub. And the whole thing would spiral out of control, worse than before Holly died because they were carrying that baggage around and for God’s sake, they should have known better.
Making love to Emma had been a fabulous mistake. They were being driven by hormones instead of using their heads and working out their problems. If that was even possible. The one with the most to lose if he and Emma came together only to break apart again was Billy.
Darcy stroked his baby’s cheek. “Mate, I’m not going to do anything that could end up hurting you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA WOKE AND glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Ten o’clock. Billy. Why hadn’t Darcy woken her up to feed him? She sniffed the air and could smell a faint odor of smoke from last night’s fire.
She savored these few seconds with no baby crying, no alarm clock warning her to get to work. Her breasts felt full. Her milk was finally coming in strong. The antibiotics had worked their magic and she was feeling almost normal.
She and Darcy had made love. Was that the icing on the cake—or the one wrong thing she should have been smart enough to say no to?
In the middle of the night she hadn’t been thinking enough to be either smart or stupid. She’d gone from the dream state to losing herself in mindless pleasure. She’d hoped Darcy would come back to bed after he’d looked at the fire but she’d woken up alone. Had he only come to her for a quick screw? Had he had second thoughts about what they’d done?