The Mummy Miracle. Lilian Darcy
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laughed and she smiled at him and then her breath caught, and the question she’d been asking in her head even before she’d found out about DJ came blurting out, “Are we dating, Dev?”
He went still. She just knew he was going to say no. It was there in his body language so clearly, and she wondered why on earth she’d thought it necessary to ask. Well. She hadn’t thought. Her brain didn’t seem to control either her body or her words anymore.
Eventually answered in a slow, careful way, “That’s a question, isn’t it?”
“I mean, I’m not suggesting you have a thing for unconscious women.” The humor didn’t work. It was too dark for a moment like this. It didn’t evaporate the tension, as intended. She apologized. Seemed as if she might be doing a lot of that. “I’m sorry. I was just—”
“It’s okay. Lightening the mood. You had a right to ask. I talked about making a family, just now.”
“When you came to see me in the hospital, I didn’t know why you were there. Because I didn’t know about DJ. And last fall we …”
“I know.” He was still so uncomfortable. They both were.
“I don’t think we’re dating,” she said, before he could say it. “It would be crazy. It’s not what we need. It would just be a complication. We have enough of those.”
He nodded, and looked relieved. “You’re right. I guess that’s what I’ve felt. First things first. Take care of DJ. Take care of you. Take all of it slow. You’re not strong enough to do much with a baby right now. We want to find a way to share her and love her. There’s no hostility or conflict. I want to keep it that way. We have to keep it that way. I want as much involvement as I can have.”
“But she’ll be with me most of the time.” Was it a question, or a statement? She didn’t even know.
“Once you know her,” he said. “Once you can take care of her. You’re her mother and most of the time the baby stays with the mom. I’m accepting that.”
But am I?
She saw herself stranded with baby DJ in her parents’ house for weeks at a stretch with barely a break. She imagined the winter days closing in, keeping her and the baby inside the house, when normally even in the cold weather she loved to be outdoors.
These weren’t the pictures she wanted to have of herself and her baby, but they were the ones that came. She heard herself wrangling and bickering with Mom about when to introduce solid food and whether to dress her in pink.
Dress her in pink …
She tried to picture it, and couldn’t. At all. With a stab of horror she realized, I don’t remember what she looks like. All she had were two vague images of a little face distorted with crying and then peaceful in sleep. Would she recognize her, beyond the familiarity of Dev’s arms, or Mom’s? Could she pull her own daughter out of a lineup?
Another bizarre image came to her. Police station. One-way glass. “Now, Ms, Palmer, look carefully at the numbered cribs. Do you see your baby here? It’s very important that you make a correct identification.”
But she couldn’t …
“Dinner’s up,” Dev said. “I think we’re—I’m glad we said this.”
She tried to stand, to go over to the bench and help him dish out the food, but her feet caught and she almost fell. He was there just in time.
“He-e-ey. Who-o-oa.” He caught her and folded his arms around her. “You didn’t have to get up. I’m bringing it to you.”
She felt his breath fanning her hair and his chin resting on her shoulder, and could have stayed like this forever. She loved the way they fit together despite their mismatched size. She loved the smell of him, the strength of him, the honor and humor and decisiveness and brains. She loved the fact that he could hug her like this so soon after they’d agreed—the only thing they could agree on, in this situation—that they weren’t dating anymore.
It was just a hug, and yet if she just turned her face up, she was sure he would kiss her. The chemistry was still there, a deep pool of it, secret and still, magical and unspoken.
She wanted him to kiss her.
Desperately.
Just kiss me, Dev, so I don’t have to think. Just kiss me, so I know that part is okay, even if everything else isn’t.
I don’t care what we decided.
I don’t care about sensible.
Kiss me and say, “Let’s get married, and I’ll take care of whatever you need,” so that we can play by the rules and be a normal mommy and daddy and then maybe I’ll feel as if I belong in my own life, instead of being just a visitor.
“This is the most insane situation,” he muttered. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just take your time. That’s all. We all need to give this time.”
Kiss me. Say it.
Shoot!
This neediness, this wasn’t her! Jodie Palmer, don’t you remember who you are? You’ve been fighting your whole life to show how strong you are, and now you’re clinging to Dev as if he has all the answers and so you can just go with the flow?
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