and went to use the bathroom downstairs. She didn’t want to wake up the children by using the en suite. As she crept down the dark stairs, she could see the light shining in Garrett’s den, could hear the low murmur of his voice. He was talking on the phone.
Good, she thought as she closed herself in the bathroom and turned on the light. That meant he’d be busy long enough for her to get ready for bed, then scoot back upstairs through the dark, with him none the wiser. This was the first evening he was home early enough for her to even feel awkward about showering downstairs. She flipped on the shower, letting it warm while she cleaned her face and brushed her teeth. Then she showered and dried off in record time, gathered up her stuff and opened the door.
“The air conditioner is working again.”
Darby gasped and jumped back, hitting the wall behind her. The bundle of clothes, towel and toiletries tumbled out of her grasp, and she glared at Garrett’s shape in the dark hallway. “I had it fixed. And you scared me to death!” She went down on her knees, hands searching in the dark for her things. She found her clothes, at least.
Light suddenly flooded the narrow hallway and she looked up to see him standing over her, his long fingers and pristine bandage still resting against the wall switch. “Need help?” he asked smoothly.
She flushed and looked back down, snatching up the bits of ivory silk that passed for bra and panties and burying them along with her shirt and shorts inside her damp bath towel. She reached forward and plucked the toiletry bag from where it rested against the toe of his scuffed work boot. “No, I don’t need help.” She stood and wished the light wasn’t quite so bright there in the hall. Her oatmeal-colored nightshirt hung to her knees, but she still felt exposed.
Definitely not a good thing after that crazy episode in the kitchen. He wasn’t her type, and she wasn’t his. And even if they were, it was still out of the question. She was only here to help with the children. She owed them that, at least.
“Why aren’t you using one of the baths upstairs?”
“I didn’t want to wake the children.” She began inching her way along the hall. “The pipes for both showers up there rattle really badly, and the water pressure is terrible. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” The stairs were nearly behind her now.
His lips twisted. “Too late for that. Who fixed the AC?”
“The guy Georgie uses.” The toiletry bag fell off the stack in her arms again as she started up the stairs.
Before she could reach it, Garrett bent and picked it up. “Did he leave a bill?”
“I paid him when he came.” She reached out for the bag. Standing on the second riser, they were nearly eye to eye. “Could I have that back, please?”
“I was planning to fix it myself.”
“Well, now you don’t have to. My bag?”
“How much was it?”
“Five ninety-five.”
His eyebrows rose. “To fix the thermostat? Darby, he’s a crook. Give me his name and I’ll straighten him out.”
“For the bag,” Darby said sweetly. “Five dollars and ninety-five cents. On sale at the discount store as I recall. And I’d like it back. Unless you’re wanting to borrow my razor because your own is dull?”
That stubble-shadowed jaw cocked. “How much was the repair bill, Darby?” She told him and still he didn’t hand back her little bag. “I’ll reimburse you,” he said.
She wasn’t going to argue about it. Despite her suspicion that he really wasn’t as flush financially as he assured her, it wasn’t as if she, herself, still had unlimited resources at her fingertips. “Fine.”
He looked over her head. “I’m sorry the pipes are so bad. When it was just me here, it was no big deal. I’ll see what I can do about fixing it.”
She lifted her shoulder, feeling uncomfortable. “After Wednesday, it won’t make any difference to me,” she reminded and promptly felt like a shrew for doing so. “I’m sorry. That sounded harsh.”
“It sounded honest,” he said evenly. “Good night, Darby.”
She watched him walk back into the den where he closed the door. She blew out a breath and trudged up the stairs to the room she shared with the triplets. Brilliantly handled, Darby.
She hung the towel in the bathroom and checked Tad’s forehead once more before sitting on the far side of the enormous bed. She pulled a clean outfit from the small chest situated beside the bed and the wall and set it out for the morning, but didn’t close the drawer. Under the neatly rolled socks and undies, she could see the edge of the magazine she’d brought.
It was stupid to carry it with her, of course. There was no need. Every word was etched in her memory.
Yet she took it with her wherever she went. A talisman? A warning reminder?
Still, Darby pulled the slick, colorful periodical from beneath her clothing. It was two years old and easily fell open to the article. On one page was a collage of photographs. Some were old black-and-whites. Most were more recent. Fuzzy distance shots, painfully clear close-ups.
Sighing a little, Darby sat back against the pillows. There was Dane when he’d finally been promoted to president of the company. She ran her fingertip along the image of his face. Seven years her senior, he was impossible and overbearing. And she didn’t like admitting that she missed him even the slightest little bit.
But she did.
For a long time they’d been a team. Until he took his place alongside their father, and Darby had once again been alone.
She turned the page to another set of photos. Her graduation. The front of the Schute Clinic in Kentucky where she’d had her first nursing job. The formal engagement photograph. The caption—Intriguing Debra White Rutherford To Wed Media Mogul Heir Bryan Augustine. Only there had been no marriage. No happily ever after. Only a yearlong engagement that ended in humiliation.
One of the triplets snuffled, and Darby looked over at the cribs. She knew why she was looking at the magazine. Looking at the chronicle of her family’s life; each memory a stabbing little wound.
In the kitchen with Garrett, breathing in his warm scent, feeling his heartbeat beneath his gray shirt, she’d forgotten. For a moment. And she couldn’t afford to ever forget. Now, since the accident with Garrett’s sister, she didn’t deserve to forget.
She climbed off the bed, shoving the magazine back in its hiding place beneath her socks and went over to the cribs. She looked down at the sweetly scented babies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If I could undo it all, I would.”
They slept on.
And Darby snapped off the small table lamp and forced herself to climb into the bed that belonged to the man downstairs. She only wished she could close off thoughts of that man as easily as she’d closed the drawer on the magazine.
Instead, she lay there, wakeful for a long while. Staring into the dark, trying to convince herself that the pillow beneath her head didn’t smell wonderfully of Garrett.
