Chapter 9 Darcy
DARCY
My heart is still pounding from all the excitement—but mostly from that kiss—as we head into the dining hall. And Derek’s hand at the small of my back isn’t exactly helping to calm things down.
The front part of my mind is focused on Judi-Bloom’s non-stop description of her journey here, but below that my pulse is racing and every cell of me is oh-so aware of Derek.
Margo shows us over to a table by the fire. She’s got a throw blanket for Michael that she puts over the arm of his chair.
“Anyway,” J.B. says as she flings herself into the seat next to mine. “I’m glad I made it here for the proposal.”
Her earlier comment is still bouncing around in my head.
Finally…
“You don’t seem that surprised about your dad and me,” I hear myself point out as Derek pulls out my chair for me.
“Oh,” she says, huffing out a laugh. “I just knew you two would end up together. I’ve always known.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Derek asks.
He takes the seat across from mine and gazes into my eyes. I can feel my whole body turning red, like I’m a cartoon character that just drank a bottle of hot sauce, and I look away.
But maybe my heated cheeks aren’t so bad as far as how this looks. It’s not wrong to think your fiancé is so cute he makes you blush, right?
Though I don’t think Derek will believe I’m that good of an actress.
My cheeks heat even more. I’m probably red to my hairline.
“How long have you guys been dating, anyway?” J.B. asks.
It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on my head.
I have no idea how long we are supposed to have been seeing each other.
He wasn’t supposed to do this so soon. We never even had time to go over details like this.
I meet Derek’s eyes, willing him to make something up, but he’s just looking at me like he didn’t even hear the question.
“How’s school, Judi-Bloom?” Michael puts in brightly.
“It’s J.B. now, Grandpa,” she says. “And my grades are really good.”
We all wait politely for her to go on, but she just looks around like she has nothing more to say.
Judi—J.B. isn’t exactly a social butterfly, but she always had a best friend back in her old school. And even if she hasn’t really found her people yet at the boarding school, I’d think she would have something to say about her teachers, her roommates, the school campus… anything.
My mind races for something to say to break the awkward silence and steers us back into a comfortable conversation, but J.B. beats me to it with a question that does exactly the opposite.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were proposing?” she asks her dad, turning the subject right back to us.
He’s got an amazing poker face, but I see the tiniest bit of tension ripple in his jaw and I know he’s stressed by this too. Neither of us likes lying to her. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“It was kind of supposed to be a surprise,” Derek sighs. “And… well, I wasn’t sure she would say yes.”
“Of course she would say yes,” J.B. laughs. “Can I be a bridesmaid? Can I be the best man?”
“You probably have to pick one or the other,” I tell her when her dad just blinks at her in surprise.
“Which one chooses the cake?” she asks thoughtfully. “I’ll be that one.”
“Darcy will choose the cake,” Derek says.
“But you can help,” I offer.
“That might be tough,” she says with a happy grin. “Do they even make triple chocolate wedding cakes?”
I can’t help smiling back at her, and feeling really touched that she remembers the homemade triple chocolate brownies I used to keep in the freezer to save her from her father’s horrible healthy lunches when she had a day off school.
She and I would microwave two of them in the break room and add a dollop of ice cream if there was any in the freezer leftover from a recent staff birthday.
Of course Derek would try and give me a hard time about it, but I would always tell him that a child couldn’t be raised on bean sprouts and protein powder alone, and he’d give me that indulgent smile he only trotted out once in a while.
“They’ll make whatever Darcy tells them to,” he says now, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “If they know what’s good for them.”
J.B. laughs a little too loudly, and I feel a wave of warm gratitude. This is actually kind of nice.
Then reality snaps back into place.
We’re not really going to get married. There will be no cake, no bridesmaids or best man.
And instead of never even knowing about it, J.B. is going to be very, very disappointed instead.
And why is she so on board with this whole thing so fast anyway? Aren’t kids supposed to be against their parents getting remarried? Shouldn’t she be pulling pranks on me or something?
But the two of us are friends. We have been since the first time Derek brought her in. I guess I can see how maybe this situation is a little different than most.
“Let’s focus on lunch for now,” Michael says warmly. “J.B., did you know they have Christmas crêpes here?”
“Oh, yes, I had some,” I tell her. “They’re amazing.”
They were pretty great, and I can only imagine they are even better if you eat them when they’re still warm.
“Why am I not surprised?” Derek asks no one in particular.
But when I glance across at him he’s smiling at me.
“You can’t food-shame people, Dad,” J.B. points out.
“I think it’s okay to tease the people you care about,” I tell her. “Just a little bit.”
I’m a little embarrassed that I’ve just implied that he cares about me, but he looks grateful when I sneak another peek at him.
“Not if you want them to marry you,” J.B. says, frowning. “Can I have crêpes for lunch?”
“Of course you can,” Michael tells her before Derek can try to make her eat soybean salad and bitter kale juice or whatever he’s having. “Let’s all take a page out of your father’s book today, and ask for exactly what we want.”
I smile at the sentiment, though I know it’s not true. I’m not what Derek Lockwood wants, no matter how much I wish I could be.