Page 81 of The Bad Girl and the Baby

Chapter Twenty

His head hurt. His eyes were glued together.

He’d just woken up, but he wasn’t in bed. At a guess, he was lying face down on the sofa, his legs hanging over the side. What the fuck? He rolled over, squinted one eye open, but the light was too bright, and he closed it again. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He had a vague feeling that all was not right with his world. But his fuzzy head was doing a good job of protecting him from remembering what he was sure was better not remembered.

A loud crash made him bolt upright, and he winced as pain shot through his ribs.

The fight.

It was coming back to him. He’d picked a fight in a bar. That was a first. And not with just one man, because that wouldn’t have been stupid enough for him, but with three. The asshole had deserved it. Except he wasn’t actually sure whether he’d won or not. He remembered pretty well everything until he’d stepped outside, but the moment the fresh air had hit him, the drink had gone straight to his head, and after that, everything was blurry.

He had a vague memory of someone coming to rescue him. A guardian angel?

“Aw, Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

The woman’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen, and he forced himself to turn his head—slowly. Regan leaned in the open doorway, a steaming mug in her hand. Summer stood just behind her. She’d put on weight, but it suited her. As marriage clearly did—she looked radiant.

He peered past them, but there was no sign of Darcy. And he couldn’t believe the stab to his guts. Of course, she wasn’t here. There was no reason for her to be. Then again, there was no reason for Regan and Summer to be here, either, and yet here they were.

“She’s not here,” Regan said.

He ran another hand across his scalp, pressing down, trying to ease the ache. “How did you get in?” he asked.

“Your nanny let us in. She came to clear out her stuff, but she’s gone now.” Christ, he remembered now. He’d arranged with Diana to come that morning, explained that Lulu was leaving—that there was no nanny job any longer. “We said we’d do any nannying that was required,” Regan continued. “Do you need a nanny, Soldier Boy?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. Then shook his head. “Sorry.”

Regan’s lips twitched. Great. He was just so amusing. “I think Mr. Perfect is unraveling.” She looked around her. “This place is a mess.”

He hadn’t been doing the housework. What was the point? Lulu had been with his parents the last few days—they were off visiting old friends. They’d decided it would make the change easier if she spent the last few days with them. He hadn’t wanted to agree, but he saw the sense in it. And really, every moment he spent with Lulu hurt right now. He told himself things would feel better once she was gone and it was settled, but he hadn’t managed to convince himself of that.

He wanted Darcy. Not for sex. He wanted to burrow his head against her breasts. He wanted her to stroke his hair and tell him everything would be all right.

Except it wasn’t. And he had an inkling he’d messed up so badly things would never be right again.

Anyway. Housework had seemed unimportant when everything that really mattered was slipping away. The room was littered with clothes and coffee cups, papers…

Summer pushed past her friend. She carried two mugs—she was an angel—and handed him one, then reached into her pocket, pulled out a bottle of painkillers, and handed him those as well. She was clearly the nice one of the group. He put down the mug, shook a couple out, and swallowed them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken painkillers. Probably not since his last injury. “Thank you,” he muttered, then picked up his mug, sat back, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, they were still there, staring down at him.

What did they want?

Why couldn’t they just go and let him suffer alone?

Regan sat down opposite him and sipped her coffee. Summer took the seat beside her. They both watched him, gazes unwavering. He stopped himself from twitching through force of will. He reckoned being interrogated would be easier than this. Maybe they were about to waterboard him. He’d gone through that in training. Finally, he broke. “What do you want?”

Regan put her mug down. “She said you love her. Is it true?”

Not what he’d been expecting. Except he hadn’t actually been expecting anything. Part of him wanted to tell them to mind their own business. But the rest of him liked the idea that Darcy had these two looking out for her. She thought she was alone, but she wasn’t. She’d let these two in. Or maybe they’d pushed their way in, like they had into his home.

“Yes.”

Summer smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Don’t be. It makes no difference. She doesn’t want my love. Or Lulu’s.”

“Well,” Regan said, “as you’ve just given Lulu away like an unwanted puppy, that might be just as well.”

---