her worst and this wasn’t it. She wanted to get to her own cabin so she could cry. “Where the hell is my other shoe?”
“What about you?” Darcy said. “You were right there in the yard with her. You were supposed to be watching.”
“I was watching. Could I help it if her ball rolled into the driveway? When did you ever watch her for even five minutes? You played with her but you didn’t watch over her. You didn’t look after her.”
Ah, there was her shoe, under the bed.
“How could you not have noticed that guy was staggering drunk when he left the house?” she continued. “When the police tested him he blew 0.15.”
“I didn’t see him leave! If he was staggering, how come you didn’t stop him from getting in his vehicle?”
She turned away. They’d gone over the day in forensic detail a million times. “If we’d gone on a picnic the way I wanted, it never would have happened.”
“It was the footy grand final! I’ve been watching with these guys every year, since long before you and I got together. But that’s just like you, Emma, not wanting me to have a life outside the family.”
“That’s not true. But you seemed to enjoy your outside life more than spending time with Holly and me. Why weren’t we enough for you?” She threw up her hands. “What am I saying? Nothing’s ever enough for you. There isn’t enough excitement, people, activity in the world to satisfy you.”
“You like reading books. I like being around people. Does that make me a criminal?”
Emma sat to strap on her sandal, sick to death of the familiar litany, the going off on tangents. They’d been through this over and over with no resolution. “This was a mistake, thinking we could have one night. Let’s forget it ever happened.”
“Fine by me.” He slumped farther down in the bed.
She grabbed her purse, made sure her key card was inside, then went to the door. There she paused to look at Darcy, hoping for...what? For him to call her back, hold her, find the magic words that would somehow make all the pain go away?
He opened his mouth as though he would speak. Something flashed in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that went so deep it was scary. She almost went over and hugged him. Then his jaw clamped shut and the lines around his eyes hardened.
She shook her head. What was she thinking? Darcy wasn’t vulnerable. He was Mr. Goodtime Charlie. He didn’t exactly laugh off tragedy and adversity, but he somehow set it aside and carried on. Nothing gave him nightmares or had him weeping in the middle of the day. He wasn’t as affected by Holly’s death as she was because family life simply wasn’t as important to him.
“Goodbye.” Before she closed the door, she added, “Next time fate throws us together let’s hope we have the sense to walk in the opposite direction.”
* * *
FRIDAY NIGHT AND THE PUB was hopping. Darcy poured beers as fast as the foaming head would allow. Kirsty, a young and mouthy waitress with spiky black hair and arms of steel, picked up a loaded tray, grumbling good-naturedly, “I should be paid by the glass on Friday nights.”
Darcy blotted the overflow from a pint of Cascade Lager and passed it down the bar. “How does five cents per round sound?”
“I was thinking more like five dollars. Do you know how much these things weigh?”
“Look at it as saving on a gym membership,” he teased. He paid her well and she knew it; she just liked to joke around.
Darcy’s gaze moved over the crowded room. Ten o’clock and it was standing-room only. A roar of laughter came from the far corner by the dartboard, where his father was holding court with his cronies. With his thick head of white hair and black eyebrows, Roy Lewis stood out in a crowd. Seeing him lean on his cane to limp to the table, Darcy frowned. His dad was waiting for a hip replacement and living on painkillers in the meantime. Roy glanced over and made eye contact, giving Darcy an approving nod. Darcy turned his frown to a smile. At least the old man still enjoyed himself.
Darcy liked that his father had owned the pub before him, liked the continuity and the community. This was Darcy’s home, where he belonged. Here in the pub he was among friends, some he’d grown up with, others he’d met as recently as