C hristmas was a rather subdued holiday in the aftermath of Dan’s appearance. This year, the Christmas feast was to be at Michael and Brittany’s house, and Brittany had been looking forward to hosting the small family gathering.
But the joy had gone out of it. She kept looking at the snow outside, wondering where Dan was, wondering if he was warm enough, if he had enough to eat.
Michael entered the kitchen after she’d started the dinner preparations. His parents and Colin were due to arrive any minute. Danielle was perched on his hip, chewing on a cookie, more of the cookie getting on her face than into her mouth.
“How’s everything going?”
“Fine.”
They’d spoken very little since last night, each wrapped in thought. Last night, for the first time since they’d made their marriage a real one, they’d slept on opposite sides of the bed, carefully not touching.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Michael asked politely.
“No thanks. I think everything is under control.”
“So you wanted to put brown sugar on the turkey and vinegar on the ham?”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate. Brittany stared down at the box of brown sugar in her hand. She’d been carefully pressing the sweet substance to the turkey, while the ham sat looking forlorn under its coating of vinegar. The two should have been mixed and used to coat the ham.
Muttering under her breath, she began dusting the sugar off the turkey. Luckily, it didn’t seem inclined to stick to the snowy skin anyway. In a matter of minutes, the small turkey was in the oven, properly basted with butter this time. The ham received its coating and was set aside to wait its turn in the oven.
Brittany glanced over her shoulder at the window, frowning. Was the snow coming down harder than it had been?
“You keep looking out the window.” Michael folded the top of the brown sugar box over with one hand, sealing it tight. “Are you looking for something?”
“No.” But the guilty flush betrayed her.
“Thinking about Dan?” His tone was casual, but there was a hint of frost in his eyes. Unfortunately, Brittany wasn’t looking at his eyes. She was once again looking out the window. It was definitely snowing harder now.
“I’m worried about him,” she admitted.
“I told you, give him some time to cool off, and he’ll be ready to listen to reason.”
“I don’t mean that,” she said with a touch of impatience.
“What are you worried about, then?”
“I’m worried that he might not have a place to stay. Or enough money. Did you see his clothes? They were old and worn. What if he’s out in this cold somewhere?”
Michael reined in his impatience, reaching for another cookie as Danielle polished off the one she had and held out a grubby hand for more. Right now, he didn’t care if it did ruin her appetite. It was more important to keep her quiet and occupied.
After a sleepless night spent wondering if Brittany was regretting her marriage to him, the last thing he felt like doing was discussing Dan. There was nothing more to be said at this point. The look of worry in her eyes as she glanced at the window did nothing to soothe his ruffled feathers.
“I’m sure he’s okay.”
“How can you be sure? He just spent two years in some awful prison, and now he’s come back to find that nothing is the way he left it. We shouldn’t have let him go without making sure he was all right. We don’t even know if he has any money.”
“Brittany, one thing I know about Dan Remington and I’m willing to bet hasn’t changed is that he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. If he can survive a plane crash and prison, then I’m sure he can survive a winter day in Indiana.”
He’d meant his words to be reassuring, but that wasn’t how she took them.
“How can you be so callous.” She slammed the refrigerator door shut, turning to look at him with a bunch of celery clenched in one fist like a weapon. “He’s supposed to be your best friend, but you don’t seem to give a damn about him.”
“I give more than a damn about him,” Michael said tightly, his temper snapping. “But that doesn’t mean I want him shoved down my damn throat along with the damn Christmas dinner. Dan is a survivor. He’ll be fine. Do you think we could just forget about him for the rest of the day and try to enjoy the holiday?”
“I don’t see how I can just forget about him, but I won’t mention him again. I wouldn’t want to spoil your damn dinner,” she snapped.
“Damn.” Danielle smiled at both of them as their eyes jerked to her angelic little face. “Damn.” She seemed pleased with this new word and repeated it again with emphasis. “Damn.”
“Now see what you’ve done.” Brittany reached for the toddler as if to remove her from contaminating influences.
“Look what I’ve done? As I recall, I wasn’t the only one slinging the word around.”
Brittany flushed but refused to back down. “You’re the one who started it.”
“Actually, I think you were the first one to use the word in question.”
“Damn.” Danielle studied her cookie, clearly pleased with herself. Her parents stared at her, wondering how you explained to an almost two-year-old who was rapidly discovering the joys of language that some words weren’t for repeating. Especially when they’d greeted every other word with lavish encouragement.
“Damn.”
Their eyes met over her head. Michael was the first one to break. His mouth quivered and then widened in a smile that rapidly became a chuckle. Brittany looked as if she might hold on to her annoyance, but the obvious humor in the situation couldn’t be denied. She laughed, hugging Danielle close. How was it that a child could always put something into perspective, even when she didn’t know she was doing it?
“I guess we’re going to have to watch our language from now on,” Michael said, laughter still tinting his voice.
“I guess so.”
He reached out to ruffle Danielle’s silky, dark hair and was rewarded with a cookie-encrusted smile. “Let’s hope she loses interest in it after a while.”
“How are we going to explain this one to your parents?”
“Let’s just keep her mouth full,” Michael suggested.
“A coward’s way out, but I like it.”
***
The small quarrel broke the tension between them, but it didn’t really solve anything.
During the past two years, they’d built a marriage based on friendship and mutual respect. It took something like this to show how shaky that foundation could be.
The days between Christmas and New Year’s were tense. The one cardinal rule in their marriage had been that they didn’t discuss their feelings for each other. It was enough that they were married and working toward the same goals. Not even in the darkness of their bedroom had either of them said anything about love.
It had worked well enough until now. Now, it was clear that they’d been existing as if they were acrobats working without a safety net. When something happened to shake the foundations of their marriage, they had nothing to fall back on.
Michael, uncertain of Brittany’s feelings, withdrew emotionally and physically. He knew they should talk about Dan’s return and what it might mean. But he was afraid to probe too deeply, afraid he might not like the answers he came up with.
Brittany didn’t encourage a discussion. How could she discuss her feelings about Dan’s return when she didn’t know what they were?
***
Brittany leaned back in her chair, staring out the window at the snow that was drifting down. It had turned out to be an exceptionally cold winter, with more snow than usual. Despite Michael’s assurances that Dan was a survivor, she couldn’t help but wonder where he was, if he was all right.
It was almost three weeks into the new year, and as far as she knew, no one had heard from him since he walked out of Donovan and Beth’s house on Christmas Eve. What if he never came back? There were so many unanswered questions, things she wanted to say to him, to ask him.
She picked up her pen, doodling on the edge of the grocery list she was supposed to be making. Danielle was sleeping in her room, and the house was quiet, that special kind of quiet that seemed to descend with the snow.
How did she feel about Dan?
It was a straightforward question. She should have been able to come up with a straightforward answer. She was happy that he was alive, that he was back. His death had been so senseless, such a waste of life. Seeing him alive and well was like seeing a miracle—something you wanted so badly, even though you knew it could never happen.
She’d loved him once. She’d been sure that she’d love him always. She’d had his child. Wasn’t that an indication of how deeply she’d cherished him and his memory?
Did she still love Dan? She knew the question was in Michael’s eyes when he looked at her. It was a complicated question that couldn’t simply be answered with a yes or no. She frowned, trying to define her feelings to herself. He’d been her first love. And he had, albeit unwittingly, given her Danielle. How could she not love someone who’d given her something so precious?
But it had been Michael who’d enabled her to have Danielle, to care for her. Michael who’d been there through mood swings and swollen ankles and childbirth. Michael who’d changed diapers, warmed bottles and walked the floor with a colicky infant. Dan might have been present at Danielle’s conception, but he wasn’t her father, not in the deepest sense of the word. That wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t change the facts.
But what about her own feelings? Her time with Dan seemed so long ago. She’d been a different person then. The Brittany who’d loved him didn’t exist anymore.
And there was Michael. Always her thoughts circled around to him. They’d never said they loved each other. But that didn’t mean that the emotions weren’t there. Did Michael love her?
It was a relief when the doorbell rang. Anything was better than sitting here thinking and rethinking and getting nowhere. The snow had almost stopped. Maybe it was Beth.
But it wasn’t Beth. Brittany’s heart gave a bump when she saw who was standing outside the door.
“Dan.”
“Hi. Maybe we should talk.” He didn’t smile and it was impossible to read anything in the ice blue of his eyes.
“Yes.” She swallowed, summoning up a smile. “I think you’re right. Come in.”
He wiped his feet on the mat before stepping into the hall and shrugging out of his coat—not the thin jacket he’d been wearing Christmas Eve but a heavy sheepskin-lined one, more in keeping with the weather.
“I had a chance to do a little shopping.” He must have noticed her looking at the coat.
“I’m glad. You didn’t really look prepared for winter,” she said, taking the coat and hanging it in the closet.
“I wasn’t. I’d forgotten what bone-deep cold felt like.”
“I suppose it was pretty warm ... where you were.” Brittany led the way into the living room, aware that she sounded very hostess-y.
“Hot might be a better description,” Dan said easily.
“I can imagine.”
“No, I don’t think you can.” But there was no anger in the contradiction.
“You’re probably right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a handbook on how to make polite conversation.”
“That’s okay.” He half smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “The situation is a little awkward, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
Brittany sat on the sofa, and Dan chose a chair opposite her. She racked her brain for something to say. She’d once been in love with this man. Surely they couldn’t be completely without words.
“I wanted to apologize for reacting the way I did the other night,” Dan said, breaking the silence. “I had no right to act as if you’d committed some crime by marrying Michael.”
“That’s all right. I know it must have been a shock to you. So much has changed.”
“That it has. You know I used to dream about you while I was in prison.”
“Did you?” Brittany wasn’t sure what she should feel at his admission. Flattered? Touched? Moved? She felt a little of all those emotions. But most of all, she felt a deep sadness for the time he’d lost. Time he could never regain.
“Yeah.” He hunched his shoulders and looked around the living room, obviously sensing her discomfort. “So, what do you do these days?”
The change of subject was obvious, but Brittany was too grateful to mind.
“I stay home with—” She broke off, coughing. For a moment, she’d almost forgotten that he didn’t know about Danielle. It seemed incredible that he had a daughter and didn’t know it. “I … ah ... stay home most of the time. I’ve been doing some writing. I’ve sold a couple of articles. Nothing major yet, but I keep working at it.”
“That’s great. I know you wanted to go into journalism. Did you switch majors?”
“I … ah ... didn’t get my degree, actually.”
“You didn’t?” He was surprised. “You only had another year to go. What happened?”
“It’s rather a long story.”
“I’ve got time. I’d like to know what’s been happening in your life. It’s obvious it didn’t follow the scenarios I was building.”
His mouth twisted in a quirky smile that made her heart ache. He looked so alienated. What must it feel like to come back to find everything you’d known had changed almost beyond recognition?
She looked at him helplessly. He had a right to know about Danielle. After all, it hadn’t been by his choice that he’d been denied knowledge of his child. She wasn’t ready to tell him now, but then, maybe there was no such thing as being ready to tell a man he had a year-and-a-half-old daughter.
“Why don’t I make a pot of coffee?” She’d tell him but she needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts, put them in a coherent order.
“Sure. Coffee was something I missed while I was away.”
“Well, I don’t promise that it will be good. Michael usually makes the coffee around here:..” She trailed off, aware that the reminder that she shared this home with Michael had, perhaps, been ill-timed. Dan said nothing, the half smile frozen in place. “I’ll go make the coffee,” Brittany murmured.
In the kitchen, she reached for the filters and coffee automatically, her thoughts whirling. It seemed so strange to have Dan here. After the crash, memories of him had lingered in so many places—places they’d been to together. But this house had been associated with Michael only—there’d been nothing of Dan here. Now here he was, in one of the few places she’d never pictured him.
Her hand was shaky as she poured water into the coffee maker. She had to tell him about Danielle. He deserved to know, and she wanted him to hear it from her. The questions was how to tell him. Did she just blurt it out, or did she lead up to it carefully?
As it turned out, she didn’t have to worry about how to tell him.
When she walked into the living room with the coffee, at first glance she thought he’d gone. A feeling of relief swept over her. If he’d gone, she’d been spared the ordeal of having to tell him anything. But then a movement caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Dan standing near the baby grand piano in the corner.
The piano had been a gift from Donovan and Beth on their first wedding anniversary. She dabbled on it a bit, but Michael was the one with the real talent. They’d spent a lot of wonderful evenings, especially in the winter, with Michael playing the piano and family and friends singing off-key and occasionally off-color songs.
“That’s Michael’s toy,” she said casually, setting the cups down before approaching the piano. “He’s quite good,” she added with unconscious pride.
She had almost reached him when she noticed the rigidity of his back, the hand clenched into a fist at his side. It was only then that she realized what had caught his attention. It wasn’t the piano he was looking at; instead, he’d been drawn to the photos that lined one corner of the lid. Photos of her and Michael and Danielle.
“Oh.” The small exclamation escaped her as she lifted a hand to her throat.
“Yes, ‘oh,’ ” he snarled. He spun away from the photos, and Brittany took a step backward when she saw the fury in his eyes.
“Dan, I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
“ I just bet you didn’t. Just how did you expect to tell me about this?”
“I thought we’d sit down over some coffee, and I could explain it to you.”
“Explain it to me?” he asked incredulously. “Explain how you jumped into bed with my best friend the minute you heard I’d been killed?”
Brittany blinked at him, uncertain of his meaning. “That isn’t how it was.”
“No?” He turned and pointed at the photographs. “I’m no expert on babies, but that’s not a newborn in those pictures. What did you do? Go straight from the funeral to his bed?
“My God, Brittany, I know it may have been a little naive of me to think you’d be waiting for me if and when I got home. But I sure as hell thought you’d grieve more than a day or two.”
He spun away as if the sight of her made him physically Brittany stared at his rigid back, trying to sort his words into some sensible pattern. Her eyes widened when she realized what was in his mind. He thought Danielle was Michael’s child, that she had slept with Michael soon after he had been supposedly killed.
“No. Dan, it wasn’t like that.”
“Don’t give me that. What was it like, Brittany?” He turned toward her, his eyes narrowed. He looked as if he hated her. “Are you going to try and tell me that you were so overcome with grief, you didn’t know what you were doing? Or did you just see Michael as a way out?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were pushing me to get married before I left. When I wouldn’t bite and then was so inconsiderate as to turn up dead, did you turn to Michael? Play on his sympathies? Or did you just tumble into bed with him and then tell him you were pregnant? A strong sense of responsibility—that’s Michael. He’d have married you in a minute.”
The crack of her hand on his cheek was loud in the quiet house. His head jerked with the force of the blow which left a red welt across his face.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why don’t you explain it to me.” But the contempt in his eyes, told her that he’d already made up his mind.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said steadily. Their eyes locked in silent battle, neither giving an inch. A plaintive wail broke the tense standoff as Danielle announced that she was awake and not happy at being left alone.
Dan’s jaw tightened. Brittany put up her chin. She was damned if she’d explain anything to him. How could she have forgotten that arrogant streak in him?
“I’d like you to leave now,” she said quietly.
“With pleasure.”
She didn’t move as he turned and stalked to the door, snatching his coat out of the closet. He opened the door and then seemed to hesitate. He turned.
“You were all that kept me alive, you know.” The anger seemed to have drained from him, leaving a soul-deep weariness that tore at her. “Thinking about you kept me sane. All those months, I kept fantasizing about what it would be like when I finally got home.”
Danielle began to cry louder, unaccustomed to being ignored. Dan glanced in the direction of the sound.
“This sure as hell wasn’t part of my fantasies.”
He was gone before Brittany could say anything. The picture of him standing in the doorway, the snow drifting behind him, lingered in her mind a long time. He’d looked so alone.
***
Michael cursed as he bobbled a line, creating a new and rather exotic wall in the house he was supposed to be drafting. With a sigh, he threw down the pencil. It hadn’t been going well, anyway. The preliminary stages of a design were usually fun because almost anything was still possible. This project wasn’t working out that way.
But then, nothing had been much fun lately. Not since Christmas. Dan’s return had been like a live stick of dynamite landing in the middle of his life. He hadn’t realized just how fragile the foundations of his marriage were until now.
If asked, he would have said that he and Brittany had a strong relationship. They didn’t need mushy declarations of affection. But now he was beginning to think that a few mushy declarations might make him feel a whole lot better.
Just how did Brittany feel about him? Affection? Passion? She cared about him. He’d have to be blind not to see that. But did it go deeper than that? Their sex life was good, more than good—it was downright terrific.
But there had to be more to it than that. Affection. Sex. Those things weren’t enough to build a marriage on. He ran his hand through his hair, staring at the drafting board without seeing it. A marriage took ... love.
And that was exactly what he felt for Brittany—what he’d felt for a long time. It was hard to remember a time when he hadn’t loved her. Even when he’d first met her, he’d been drawn to her. But, she’d been his best friend’s girl, and he’d buried that awareness so deep he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself why he was marrying her, why he’d wanted to stay married to her.
And during the past couple of years, he hadn’t had to contemplate his feelings. After all, he’d had Brittany and Danielle. Why would he need to analyze what he felt about them?
It was only when something happened that threatened the even keel of his life that he took the time to really look at what she meant to him, at what it would mean to lose her.
A knock on the door broke into his thoughts and he turned, running a hand over his hair, trying to put on a professional face.
“Come in.”
He felt the professional face stiffen into a mask when Dan walked into the room, closing the door behind him.
“Dan. What a ... surprise.” The words held a flat note, but he was helpless to project more enthusiasm into them. This man had been his best friend, almost a brother, yet now he was first and foremost a potential rival. And Michael was discovering a possessive streak he hadn’t known he had.
“Michael.” Dan stood just inside the door, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes skimming over the room without really seeing it. “Great office.”
“Thanks. It’s adequate.”
“I’ve run into some of our old friends, and they tell me you’re doing well.” The words did not sound very complimentary.
“I do all right,” Michael admitted cautiously. He could feel the tension in the other man. There was some purpose behind this visit.
“Looks like you’re doing better than all right.” Dan smiled thinly, his eyes cool. “Great job, great house, great wife. Great kid.”
There was a beat pause before he added the last, and Michael tensed. So Dan knew about Danielle. “You’ve been to see Brittany.”
“Yeah, I’ve been to see Brittany. You lousy son of a bitch!”
The punch came too quickly for Michael to do more than duck back so that it caught him on the edge of the chin instead of breaking his jaw as it might have if it had connected as intended.
He blocked the next one, catching Dan’s wrist, using the hold to spin the other man around and slam him face first into the wall.
“What the hell was that for?” he panted, pinning Dan against the wall with his superior weight.
“You know what it’s for.” Dan heaved backward but he couldn’t dislodge Michael. Two years in prison had taken their toll.
The door crashed open and Donovan strode into the room, taking in the situation at a glance.
“Let him up, Michael.”
“Why? So he can try and tear my head off again?” But he stepped back, eyeing Dan cautiously as he felt the tender spot on his chin. Dan spun, his eyes burning hatred as he leaned against the wall, out of breath.
“What’s the problem here?”
“I don’t know. He came into my office and took a swing at me.”
“Dan?”
Dan shrugged his jacket back into place, throwing Donovan a quick glance. “This is between Michael and I. Nobody else.”
“When you start a fight in the offices of my company, that makes it my business.” Donovan paused, looking from one to the other. “If this is about what I think it’s about, I’d suggest that the two of you sit down and talk before you start throwing punches again.” He turned to leave but stopped in the doorway. “You might try remembering that you were friends once.”
The door shut behind him, and each man was silent, trying to anticipate the other’s next move. Dan smoothed a hand over his hair.
“He’s right, you know,” Michael said, leaning back against the desk. “We need to talk. We should have done it before this.”
“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Dan seemed more weary than angry.
“Brittany, for one. And Danielle.”
“Danielle? You named your kid after me? My God, Michael, that’s rich.” He laughed bitterly. “You actually named her after me. God, don’t you have any shame at all?”
“Shame?” Michael’s brows rose. “What have I got to be ashamed about?”
Dan stared at him as if he couldn’t believe the question. “You don’t think there’s something wrong with having married the woman I loved?”
“We thought you were dead. Besides, it didn’t seem like there was much choice at the time.”
“Not much choice? You mean I was right? She actually got pregnant and that’s why you married her?”
“I thought you said you talked to Brittany.” Michael frowned, feeling as if he were missing some vital piece of the conversation.
“I did talk to her.”
“What did she tell you?”
Dan shrugged. “She said you make the coffee. She’s working on her writing. And you play piano.”
“What did she say about our marriage? The baby?”
“She didn’t have to say anything,” Dan told him, anger flaring in his eyes again. “I saw the pictures. You and her and the baby. My God, did you even wait till I was cold in my supposed grave?”
Michael leaned back, enlightenment dawning. “You saw the pictures and jumped to a bunch of conclusions, and you either walked out without talking to Brittany or you said awful things to her and she threw you out.”
“More the latter than the former.” Dan reached up to touch his cheek.
“You jackass. You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still always going off half-cocked without waiting for an explanation.”
“The cozy little family portraits didn’t seem to need much explanation,” Dan snapped, annoyed with Michael’s half-amused tone.
“Things aren’t always what they seem, if you don’t mind me being a little trite.”
“As a matter of fact, I do mind. If there’s some explanation for the fact that you jumped right into bed with Brittany as soon as I was out of the way, then I’d like to hear it.”
“I don’t know why I should bother to tell you, but I will because I think you have a right to know.” Michael stood up, moving to the window to stare out at the snowy landscape. His voice was quiet when he began speaking.
“I did marry Brittany because she was pregnant. We got married a couple of months after the crash.”
“A couple of months? That’s all the time you waited?”
“That’s all the time we waited.” Michael turned from the window, his eyes on Dan. “Brittany was carrying your child.”
He saw the impact of the words. Dan actually took a step back, his eyes disbelieving.
“My child?” he choked out. “She was pregnant when I left?” He read the answer in Michael’s eyes and turned away, running a shaking hand through his hair. “ My God, I had no idea. She didn’t tell me. Why didn’t she tell me? I’d never have left her alone if I’d known.”
“She didn’t want you to marry her because she was pregnant. She wanted to be sure you loved her.”
“ ‘Loved her’? I adored her. We quarreled before I left,” he said slowly, remembering. “I hated that. I tried to call her from L.A., but I got hold of her parents, and they told me she was out. I was going to call her again when we got to the site, as soon as I could find a phone. Only we never reached the site.”
He sank into a chair, his expression dazed. “A baby. I have a child.”
Michael turned away, feeling a stab of pain in his chest. It hurt to hear Dan refer to Danielle as his child. He wanted to protest that she’d belonged to him since the moment the doctor put her in his hands. But he said nothing.
It took Dan a few minutes to absorb the shock. “I can’t believe it. I have a daughter and I don’t even know how old she is.”
“She’ll be two in March.”
“Two. Two years old.” Dan rubbed his hands over his face, grief flashing through his eyes.
Michael felt a twinge of pity. He’d been there for the first two years of Danielle’s life. He knew just how terrible Dan’s loss was.
“I...how did you end up marrying Brittany?” Dan asked at last, still struggling to comprehend the way his whole life seemed to have been turned upside down in a matter of minutes.
“She was alone.” Michael shrugged. “She needed help.”
“What about her parents?”
“They felt that she’d shamed them by getting pregnant. They wanted her to go off and have the baby and then give it up. She left. When I found her, she was living in a shabby apartment in a neighborhood I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to. She had no insurance. She was running out of money. I talked her into marrying me, at least until the baby was born.”
“Why?” Dan stared at him, trying to imagine what had happened.
Michael shrugged again. “I told myself I was doing it for you.”
“For me?”
“You were my best friend. Brittany was carrying your child. I thought you were dead, and it seemed like the only thing left that I could do for you was to make sure Brittany and your baby were all right.”
“You said you ‘told’ yourself you were doing it for me?”
Michael hesitated and then looked up, his eyes meeting Dan’s. “I don’t think that was the whole reason.”
“I don’t think so, either. I mean, we were friends, but that’s going a little bit above and beyond the call of duty.” There was no rancor in Dan’s voice. “I suppose I should thank you for taking care of them.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You love her, don’t you?”
“I love her.”
The flat statement hung in the air between them. Michael had staked a claim, making it clear that whatever had happened in the past, he now regarded Brittany as his. Friendship, past or present, didn’t have the strength of his ties to her. He wasn’t going to give her up easily.
If Dan wanted her, he was going to have to fight for her.