My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

The door closes behind Mitch, the peanut-digging guy from Carson’s I met almost six weeks ago. I sit back in my chair, feeling a rush of excitement. He’s genuine, charming, and has a quirky sense of humor that will resonate with the right woman.

I jot down notes on my laptop, detailing his preferences, his career as a graphic designer, and his love for indie music and art shows. His ideal partner, as he described, would be someone who appreciates creativity and isn’t afraid to let loose and be silly sometimes.

As I put together his profile, I smile. He even brought a box of chocolates as a thank-you for the interview. It’s clients like him that make me love my job. I pause at that thought, my mind churning. A trickle of clarity seeps in. When I first had the idea for Cupid’s Arrow, it was because of a gap in the market. It was about strategy, a way to bring in money while holding down my bookstore job.

But I’m realizing that the connections I make matter.

There’s a bit of magic in the matches I make.

Maybe it’s teaching me about myself, that someday soon, I can find my own happiness.

It makes me realize that the path we start on for one reason can lead us to entirely unexpected places.

I lean back, already flipping through my mental catalog of clients, trying to match Mitch with someone fantastic. Perhaps Erin from the preschool? I make a mental note to call her later.

The bell above the door of the Darling Bookstore tinkles, announcing a new arrival. Catching sight of an elderly gentleman making his way into the store, I notice his slow shuffle, supported by a polished cane. He has white hair and is dressed in a tweed jacket paired with a flat cap. Glasses perch on his nose.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I say. “Welcome to the Darling Bookstore.”

He lifts his gaze. “Ah, thank you, young lady. I’m Mr. Darden. I believe I have an appointment with you.”

He’s not just any visitor. He’s a heavyweight from Wickham, practically owning the place. His visit is the latest in a series of men, all sent by Jasper. First, it was Dalton, then Coach Duval, and now Mr. Darden. Jasper is looking out for me.

I guide him to my office, ensuring he’s comfortably seated before offering him tea. Babs swings by with a tea service and some scones, shooting me a thumbs-up before she waltzes out the door.

“So, Mr. Darden, Jasper tells me you’re interested in finding a match?”

After a thoughtful sip of his tea, he chuckles. “Well, that’s Jasper’s version. Truthfully, I’ve come to like the young man. He’s a bit of a nuisance, but in an endearing way. Always has something nice to say. And he spoke so highly of you and your daughter. When he suggested I might want a girlfriend, I wanted to laugh, but decided I’d like to meet you.”

“Ah.”

“My days of romantic pursuits are behind me. I couldn’t bear to let Jasper down, though. He’s quite set on seeing you succeed.”

I smile warmly. “I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by.”

His focus sharpens, capturing my attention with the deliberate placement of his teacup. “I’d like to know more about your matchmaking venture, though,” he says, leaning in. “In an era where digital dominates, the value of personal connections can’t be overstated. How did you start?”

I dive into the origins of my matchmaking service. I admit the journey has included its share of missteps and learning curves, emphasizing that even unsuccessful matches provide valuable insights.

Mr. Darden listens intently. “Remarkable,” he finally says. “There’s tremendous growth potential in what you’re doing.”

“I hope so. I like doing it, more than I even realized.”

He gets to the point. “I’m pressed for time today, but I’d like to talk more about your operations, review your financials if you’re open to it. I might want to invest.”

I struggle for words. His interest in investing could transform the matchmaking service. My mind swirls with ideas of a better website, of more marketing, more ads, heck, maybe even a commercial on TV. “Mr. Darden, that’s incredible. I’m very interested.”

He nods. “Great. I’ll be in touch to discuss this further. Now, I must collect my order at the counter. I called earlier in the week and had your staff do a search for books on honey badgers. I’m quite fond of those little devils.”

And then he’s out the door while I sit in stunned silence.

I’m still riding the high a few days later, especially after a dinner at Jasper’s apartment. Londyn went with me, and we ordered in pizza. Afterward, he walked us back to our place, then left early so he could be focused for his quarterback meeting with Dalton.

It’s been a busy day at the store. I’m just finishing checking out a customer when I get a notification on my business phone.

A refund request has been initiated from . . .

I haven’t had one of those in months. Of course, they do happen from time to time.

I click on the notification and blink at the name.

Freida?

Oh no. Wait a minute. Jasper canceled his date with her. That was right in the middle of us figuring out what he and I were doing . . .

Eager to see what she wrote, I scroll down the form.

Freida did not mince words. Nor did she abbreviate. Under “Reason for Request,” she’s written, “READ MY REVIEW ON YOUR WEBSITE.”

Shit. I scroll to the website and find it in the top position.

I joined Cupid’s Arrow hoping for a genuine connection, but what I found was nothing short of disappointing and unprofessional. My first match was handsy and disrespectful, a terrible experience that should have been screened better. I canceled my contract with the owner immediately, then she called me back and said she’d found someone new and begged me to give it a shot. And my second match? A high-profile celebrity, Jasper Jannich, who stood me up! It’s clear where the priorities are in this service.

But here’s the kicker: the owner of the business, Jane, is allegedly dating Jasper herself! It seems like a conflict of interest and a clear disregard for clients. How can we trust a service where the owner is more interested in her own love life than providing quality matches?

This has been a deeply upsetting experience. I expected a service that values its clients, but instead, I feel used in a publicity stunt. I regret trusting Jane and caution anyone considering her service to think twice, especially if you’re expecting professional treatment. Freida.

Rating: 0/5 Stars

Something hot begins to bubble in my veins.

How dare she? She didn’t even pay the full fee, just a measly $200.

My phone buzzes again. A refund request has been initiated from . . .

It has to be a glitch. I’m being double notified.

But then I click on it and realize it’s from a woman I signed up last week.

“Reason for Request”? She wrote, Apparently these “men” aren’t as well-vetted as Jane promises. And any business owner who dates her clients is a no-go for me.

Ugh. This could get very bad.

I grab my phone and dial Freida. It rings through to voicemail. Instead of leaving one, I send her a text: Hey. Got your refund request and saw the review. I just want to talk. Call me back. Thanks.

Another buzz. Another notification that a woman wants a refund. I rub my temple. Freida knows all the same women I do, and at this rate she’ll convince them to drop me.

“Excuse me, I need to check out,” a customer says. I set my phone down and get it done. Then, my personal phone vibrates insistently on the counter. Glancing at the screen, I see it’s a call from Londyn’s preschool. My heart skips a beat—calls from the school in the middle of the day are rare.

I quickly pick up the call. “This is Jane.”

“Jane, this is Erin from the preschool,” comes the anxious voice from the other end. “There’s been an incident with Londyn.”

Instantly, panic hits. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“We think she had an allergic reaction to peanuts. She’s never had one before, right?”

My mind races. “No, never. What happened?”

“One of the children accidentally brought in a snack with peanuts, and Londyn ate some. We were too afraid to use an EpiPen because we weren’t sure what was happening. We called the paramedics, and they arrived immediately and took her to Manhattan General. I came with her. She’s okay.”

I feel like the ground is slipping away beneath me. “I’m on my way right now,” I stammer, barely recognizing my own voice.

Without waiting to talk to Babs, I send her a text that I’m leaving and on my way to see Londyn.

I dial Andrew’s number with shaking fingers. “Andrew, it’s Jane. Londyn’s had an allergic reaction, I’m heading to Manhattan General.”

His voice mirrors my own panic. “I’m in class but on my way. Meet you there.”

I barely register his words as I start running, my heart pounding in my chest. All I can think about is Londyn, so small and vulnerable, facing something scary without me.

I grab a cab and take off.

I clutch my phone tightly.

How could this be happening?

Every second feels like an eternity, every red light driving me crazy.

As I approach the hospital, the imposing structure of Manhattan General looms ahead. The sight of it makes my stomach swirl.

My breaths come in ragged gasps as I push through the hospital doors, my eyes scanning the signs for the emergency department. The clinical smell of the hospital fills my nose.

I approach the reception. “My daughter is Londyn Darling. She’s four and was brought in for an allergic reaction.”

The receptionist gives me a sympathetic look as she checks her computer. “Just a moment, ma’am. I’ll find out where she is.”

As I stand there, waiting for information, time seems to stand still. Every second is a battle against the worst-case scenarios playing out in my head. I clutch my phone like a lifeline, praying for a positive update, anything that will tell me Londyn is going to be okay.

With trembling fingers, I dial Jasper’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Jasper, it’s Jane. I-I, just call me back.” My voice cracks as I end the call, a knot of worry tightening in my stomach.

I need someone, anyone, to be here with me.

Tomas?

The thought surfaces reluctantly. He’s her father, after all, despite the years of silence.

And he wants to be part of her life. Does he realize that being part of it also means being there for the hard things?

Since we had dinner together, I have softened to the idea of letting him in. The truth is, denying Londyn her father feels wrong.

It’s not just about informing him; it’s about reopening a door.

I’m torn between the need to protect Londyn from potential disappointment and the fact that she deserves to have her father in her life.

But what if he doesn’t answer? What if he does?

I scroll through my contacts, hovering over his name. This isn’t about me and my feelings toward Tomas. It’s about Londyn.

I press the Call button. It’s a leap of faith that maybe Tomas will prove to be the father she needs.

The phone rings, and Tomas answers immediately.

“Tomas, it’s Jane.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s Londyn. She’s in the hospital,” I say, keeping my voice calm.

“What? What happened?” His voice spikes with worry.

“She had an allergic reaction to peanuts. We never knew she was allergic.”

“I’m still in the city. Which hospital are you at? I’m coming right now—if you want me to?” he asks, even as I can hear the rustling of clothes, as if he’s getting ready to leave.

“Yes, Manhattan General,” I reply, surprised at his quick response.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice is reassuring in a way I hadn’t expected.

I end the call. A small part of me feels guilty for not being able to reach Jasper, for turning to Tomas instead. But right now, all that matters is Londyn. Everything else can wait.

When I finally reach the room, I see Londyn lying in the bed, so tiny. She’s surrounded by an IV and other medical equipment. Erin, sitting next to her bed, looks up at me, then rushes to give me a hug.

“Londyn,” I say gently, taking my daughter’s hand in mine.

Her eyes flutter open, and she gives me a weak smile. “Mommy. So sleepy.”

A nurse comes in, his expression kind. “Ms. Darling?”

I nod, and he smiles. “She’s going to be fine.”

Some of the tightness in my throat lessens. “The preschool said it was a possible allergic reaction, but she’s never had any allergies before.”

He nods. “It’s not uncommon for allergies to develop at any age, even without prior symptoms. For my son, it was a honey allergy. The doctor will be in to talk to you in just a few minutes.”

I clutch my hands together, trying to steady my shaking fingers as I stand beside Londyn’s bed. She’s asleep now, looking fragile under the thin hospital blanket.

A knock on the door breaks the silence, and a doctor enters, her expression somber. She’s a middle-aged woman with a reassuring presence, which somehow makes the situation feel even more real.

She glances at Londyn and then back to me. “I’m Dr. Simmons. I’ve been overseeing Londyn’s care.” She pulls up a chair next to me. “She had a moderate-to-severe allergic reaction to peanuts. It’s quite a serious situation, but she’s stable now. In Londyn’s case, her reaction included widespread hives, swelling, and respiratory distress. That’s why we needed to act quickly.”

“Respiratory distress?” The words echo in my head. It sounds absolutely awful.

“Yes. We administered epinephrine, and she is in the clear, but she is small, and we’d prefer to keep her for observation overnight.”

“Is she going to have to deal with this for the rest of her life?”

“Peanut allergies can be lifelong, but with proper management, they can be handled. We’ll arrange for an allergy test to confirm and to see if there are any other allergies you need to be aware of. It’s also crucial she carries an epinephrine autoinjector with her at all times going forward.”

I nod, trying to absorb it all.

“You, and anyone who takes care of her, will need to know how to use it. It’s a straightforward process, and we can show you before you leave.”

I glance at Londyn, her chest rising and falling gently. “And these reactions, could they get worse?”

Dr. Simmons nods gently. “It’s unpredictable. A mild reaction in the past doesn’t mean it can’t be severe next time. It’s why avoiding exposure is key.”

No more peanuts. Ever.

I feel a surge of protectiveness, a fierce need to shield my baby girl. “Thank you.”

Dr. Simmons offers a small smile. “We’ll be here to support you through this. Let’s talk more tomorrow after the tests. For now, try to get some rest. You’re in good hands here.”

As she leaves, the room falls silent again. I pull up a chair closer to Londyn’s bed, watching her sleep. Erin tells me she has to get back to the preschool, gives me a hug, and leaves.

I’m right next to Londyn, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You’re tough, kiddo,” I murmur. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t face for you, love bug.”

The door bursts open, and Andrew’s in the room. “Londyn, oh my god, are you okay?” Andrew’s all concern, eyes roving over her to make sure she’s really all right.

“She’s asleep,” I tell him, then explain everything the doctor told me.

A few minutes later, the door to the hospital room opens again, and my heart clenches, anticipating the moment I’ve set into motion. Tomas steps in, seriousness in his eyes. He hesitates at the threshold, as if unsure of his right to enter, and I appreciate it. He looks around at the hospital room as if he’s never seen one before, which is funny considering he plays a doctor on TV.

He whispers as he looks at her. His face is white. “Londyn?”

“She’s sleeping,” I say, keeping my voice low, feeling oddly calm.

“I got here as quick as I could. How is she?”

“Stable, now,” I say, watching him closely as I run down the basics for him.

Andrew shoots Tomas a hard look. “And who are you?” It’s for show; he knows exactly who Tomas is.

I fill in the blanks anyway. “Andrew, this is Tomas. I called him.”

Andrew’s face sets like concrete, but he lets it go, focusing back on Londyn.

Tomas, inching closer, can’t take his eyes off Londyn. “Never seen her before . . .” His voice trails off. “She looks just like her photos. So pretty, just like you, Jane. I . . . I can’t believe this happened. Is there anything she needs?”

“Just time to recover.”

He nods. “Right.”

“And maybe to meet you soon,” I add. “Perhaps after your wedding and things have settled.” It’s only two months away.

There. I said it. And I mean it.

A long ragged breath comes from his chest as he looks at me then, really looks at me. “I can’t undo the past, but I’m here now. For Londyn, for whatever. I want to be a part of her life, Jane. Really be there for her, and after the wedding is great. And I want to give you the money as soon as possible.”

I nod in agreement. “Later,” I say.

He stares down at her. “Thank you for calling me.”

“Her life isn’t perfect, and there’ll be tough times like this,” I say, trying to delicately remind him that it’s not all kittens and rainbows.

His throat bobs. “I can’t imagine all the things you’ve done for her. I’ll do it, this, however you want. I need her in my life.”

Oh. His words even make Andrew start; he gives Tomas a long, considering look.

From out of nowhere, I recall the nights my sister Emmy would read The Secret Forest to me when I was about Londyn’s age. It was a story about an enchanted forest where trees were connected by thousands of roots that nurtured each other. When one hurt, they’d send comfort through the ground, giving support and love. It was a sweet story about never being alone, where the smallest sapling was taken care of by each tree.

Now, as I gaze at Tomas, I remember that story, that feeling it gave me, of being secure—that I had so many people around me to love me. Even though my mom had left, I had Gran and Emmy and Andrew and even Terry, the previous bookstore owner.

In life, we might not see the people who love us each day, but they’re there in case you need them.

Maybe bringing Tomas into our lives is about giving her a network, a family with roots to support her. I shouldn’t, and I won’t, hold her back from those connections.

“Thanks for dropping by,” I say a few moments later as I lead him to the other side of the room. “She’s going to stay overnight, and I’m glad you came.”

“I’ll head out,” he says, his eyes lingering on Londyn. He pauses at the door. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“No, we’re good,” I say, watching him leave.

Once he’s gone, Andrew keeps tucking Londyn’s blanket in and touching her hand. He sighs. “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do, letting him in?”

I nod. “It’s for her.”

The ring of my phone pierces the quiet of the hospital room. I glance at the caller ID, and my heart skips a beat. Jasper. A part of me wants to answer, to hear his voice, but something holds me back. I let it go to voicemail.

Andrew raises an eyebrow at me, a silent question hanging in the air, but I shake my head, indicating that it’s nothing important.

The timing feels off.

It’s not like I expected him to drop everything and answer my call earlier, but a part of me had hoped he would.

Andrew watches me as I look at my phone, concern on his face. “Jane, if there’s something going on . . .”

I shake my head again, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

But it’s more than that. It’s the realization that no matter how much I want to lean on Jasper, to open up to him, there’s always going to be uncertainty between us.

There’s no clarification.

There’s a gap between what I need and what he can offer. Yes, he said he wants to protect me, but does he really?

I turn my attention back to Londyn.

Later, around six, I dash toward the hospital cafeteria, needing a break. The quiet hum of the corridor follows me as I head for some food. I grab a tray, loading it with whatever’s in reach, my mind elsewhere.

Standing in line, a sudden wave of nausea hits. My stomach gurgles, and I feel faint. The cashier catches my concern. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I hand over the money, then I rush back to Londyn’s room, relieved to see her still sleeping.

I set down the food and sneak into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. As I’m leaning over the sink, the nausea peaks, and I’m throwing up before I know it, trying to stifle the noise.

Is this worry for Londyn, or something more?

My lashes flutter as the thought of possibly being pregnant flashes through my mind.

After rinsing my mouth and splashing water on my face, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

I sway on my feet, and my fingers cling to the edge of the sink as it dawns.

I don’t have a clockwork twenty-eight-day cycle, but it feels like I’m overdue.

I’ve always believed in letting fate unfold but . . .

This is a curveball I’m not ready for.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, I think about fate and choice. Buying that morning-after pill felt like clawing back some control, yet I never took it.

Why?

Because I had faith that I wasn’t? Or faith that whatever happens, happens for a reason?

Ugh.

What was I thinking?

The first time with Londyn was unexpected, but now I only have myself to blame.

How could I have been so careless this time?

The weight of the responsibility, the fear all crash down on me.

Life is full of surprises, and sometimes, no matter how careful we are, things don’t go as planned.

Still . . .

The thought of bringing another child into the world without planning fills me with dread.

My hands tremble as I fumble to unlock my phone. I dial Emmy’s number, praying that the time difference won’t keep her from answering.

“Hello?” Emmy’s sleepy voice answers on the other end.

“Emmy,” I choke out, my voice low, “it’s me.”

“Jane?” There’s an immediate alertness in Emmy’s tone. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I huddle on the bathroom floor, my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “It’s Londyn. She had an allergic reaction to peanuts. They had to rush her to Manhattan General. She’s okay, but we’re still here.” I sniffle and wipe away my tears. “They’re keeping her overnight to monitor her.”

Emmy takes a moment to process. “That’s terrifying. I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there with you.”

My heart aches with longing. “I miss you so much, Emmy. When are you coming back?”

She sighs on the other end. “Sweetheart. I’ll be home in a few weeks. Until then, you have to stay strong for Londyn.”

“I know. I needed to hear your voice. I needed some advice.”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

I hesitate, my thoughts full of doubt. Finally, I open up. “I called Tomas. I told him about Londyn, and he came to the hospital. Maybe he’s not such a bad person, and I’m judging him over me not being the one for him. I’ve decided to let him in.”

Her voice softens. “People can change, I believe that. You’re a great mother, and Londyn is lucky. No matter what, she has you.” Emmy pauses for a moment, then continues, “I can’t wait to be back home. Hazel is growing so fast.”

We shift gears, talking about Hazel, her new milestones, and I slowly feel better.

“Was there anything else?” Emmy says, and I can hear her yawning.

I might be pregnant.

I sigh. “No. Get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

A few minutes later, Andrew slips back into the hospital room, phone in hand. He freezes for a second when he sees me curled up in the chair with my knees tucked under my chin.

There’s a silence.

“Jane?” His voice is low. “What’s up? Did something happen with Londyn?”

I blink away the moisture in my eyes. “No, she’s fine. Just tired, you know? Hospital air and all.”

He moves closer, perching on the edge of the bed opposite me. “Come on. It’s me. What’s going on?”

The dam breaks. “I might be pregnant, Andrew.”

The words hang between us, thick with implications. His reaction is a slow dawn of realization. “Holy shit balls. Jasper?” He clenches his fists. “I knew there was something between you two.”

I shake my head. “We’re just seeing each other. It’s not serious. We’re just . . .”

“Fucking?”

I nod my head at Londyn. “Watch it, brother.”

He sighs heavily. “Okay, first things first, we need to be sure. Have you taken a test?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, as if ticking off a mental checklist. “Right. We’ll do that first. Let me go buy one.”

I sit up straighter. “Now? Here? No. I can’t handle it today. I don’t want to know right this second.”

He sighs. “Fine. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay? Let me be there when you do it. Did you tell Emmy?”

“No. I just don’t know how I feel about all this. I’m probably not. My period is never on time.”

He leans in, lowering his voice even further. “Listen, whatever you decide, it’s your choice. Jasper’s a good guy, but this is your life. Your body. You’re not alone, though. You’ve got me, you’ve got Emmy, and hell, you’ve even got Tomas now. I don’t like him, but he did come and he is trying, I guess. I know it’s overwhelming with Londyn being sick, but we’ve got this, all right?”

“All right,” I say back as I get up. He wraps me in a big hug, and for a while everything feels like it’s going to be okay.