Oh, how I wished Grandma could do that now. But I feared she wouldn’t understand how I could hurt my sister by falling into Brant’s arms for one stupid night when my world had ended. Sweet Kinsley, who used to crawl into bed with me those first several weeks in our new foster home. We would hold on to each for dear life, most of the time not saying a word, just silently crying for all that we had lost. Not only that, but I was making a mockery out of marriage, an institution my grandparents held sacred. Could they understand I had no choice? That once again I’d become prey to a predator even more dangerous than the ones of my youth. Could Grandma help me forgive myself for a moment of weakness?
“Hi, Grandma,” I faked happy.
Grandma tilted her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I had. A big, scary one, plus several ghosts from the past who had started to haunt me once again.
“Just tired after the trip.” We’d gotten home late last night. Brock had insisted we do a river cruise with his parents before we left DC. He’d thought it would be a good idea if we started dating each other. He was going above and beyond, proving to his dad that what we had was real. I’m sure in hopes John would pass it along to Edward. Brock was ever the valiant hero. Of course, I played my part, too, never leaving Brock’s side during the cruise and being enamored by everything he had said as he orated beautifully on DC’s history. It wasn’t hard. I was every bit taken by him. The exhausting part was guarding my heart. Reminding myself it was a game and I a pawn.
“Yes.” Ariana set down her masterpiece and wiped her brow. “Tell us how the engagement party was. We saw the pictures online. Pretty swanky and shiny.”
I giggled. “You have no idea how shiny. I felt like I was at a fancy disco.”
Grandma took the stool next to me. “What a waste of resources. I thought the Washington crowd was all a bunch of environmentalists. They should come here. I could teach them a thing or two about recycling and not wasting a thing.”
It was true. Grandpa and Grandma were amazing at taking care of their land and never letting anything go to waste. She was the queen of compost piles.
“I hope none of my tax dollars went toward that party,” Grandma grumbled.
That, I wouldn’t know. At this point I would believe anything. I had no doubt Edward Copeland was into some shady things, the least of which was blackmail.
“I know one thing.” Ariana wagged her brows. “You looked like a million bucks in that dress.”
I waved off her compliment. “That was all my mother-in-law’s doing.”
“Um, I don’t think it was her curves filling out that dress.”
Grandma grabbed my hand. “Just don’t let fame and fortune change you.”
“Grandma, I’m not famous, nor do I want to be. And the money makes me uncomfortable. All I see in it is how much I wish I could use it to help the kids I see day in and day out who lack daily essentials. It makes me feel guilty.”
“Guilt never did anyone an ounce of good. You deserve all good that has come your way.”
My stomach clenched where the guilt brewed constantly and bubbled up, suffocating me. Like it was doing now. If she only knew.
Ariana leaned toward me. “Tell us about Brant and Jill before Kinsley gets here. Was it just me, or did the pictures I saw of them look awkward? I mean, what was her dress?”
I looked around before I said anything to make sure Kinsley hadn’t arrived yet. “It wasn’t only you. Let’s just say, Jill isn’t the mousy, sweet thing we thought she was. She and her family are everything we have come to believe about stereotypical politicians. Calculating and out for themselves. Poor Brant.” I thought back to the dinner and how they all talked like Brant had already won. Jill and her mom had already picked out the house Jill and Brant would live in once they got to DC. I wondered if maybe Brant truly had already won—if Edward had enough power to rig an election. I knew Brant would only be satisfied winning fair and square; even so, I didn’t think he had a choice.
Yet the most awkward part of the evening was the way John had beamed at me all night like a proud father after I’d taken on Edward. That had disturbed me more than anything. I didn’t want John’s admiration. He may not be the puppet master, but he held some of my strings. And whatever it was that he’d done in the past to put him under Edward’s power, I was paying for it now and in the future.
Grandma growled next to me. “Brant is a fool. It was plain as day he had a thing for Kinsley. And he gave it up for what?”
I let out a long sigh. “Don’t be too hard on him. Politics is an ugly game, and I wouldn’t wish that life on Kinsley. If anything, I’m grateful he didn’t choose her.” I could only imagine what Edward would have done to my sister had Brant jilted Jill.
“I only hope Kinsley will see it that way one day,” Ariana responded.
“Me too,” I whispered.
Grandma thought for a moment. “I don’t think you girls give Kinsley enough credit. She’s tougher than she puts on. I think she should fight for what she wants. Besides, the world needs women like all of you in high places. She would make an excellent senator’s wife.”
Without thinking, I whipped my head toward Grandma in a panic. “Kinsley is a fighter, but this is one fight she needs to walk away from.”
Grandma leaned away, taken aback by my sudden reaction. “Is there something you want to tell us?”
Yes. So much. “No. It’s only Brant has made up his mind. And I don’t want Kinsley to get hurt any more than she has been.”
Grandma’s narrowed eyes started reading me like a book. Little did she know I was living out a thriller. “Everything all right? You haven’t been yourself lately.”
I knew she wanted to say since Brock had come home. On my wedding day, when she had helped me slip into my designer gown, she had whispered, “You don’t have to get married. I’ll go out there and tell everyone the wedding is off, if that’s what you want.” It was like she could see right through the fake smiles and tell that the tears were not the joyful kind everyone assumed them to be. Grandma was my mother in every sense of the word, and she knew me. However, she couldn’t know all of me anymore. I hated that as much as anything. “A lot has happened, is all. I’m trying to catch up.”
“Hmm.” She studied me some more. “Brock treating you well?”
“Like Prince Charming.” Which was true, since Prince Charming was make believe and so was my attentive husband. He had kissed me goodbye this morning before we’d both left for work and asked what he could pick up for dinner on his way home. This was all after making me a to-go cup of decaf coffee and packing me a lunch. I hadn’t had the heart to tell him I was meeting my family for lunch, so I’d taken the brown paper bag and coffee with a smile.
“You never liked fairy tales.”
“Not true. I was obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I think if we’re defining fairy tales as stories about magical people and lands, it qualifies.”
Grandma grabbed her sides and pretended to laugh. “You’re very clever. You girls always think you can outsmart me, but I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me the truth.” She stood. “I’m going to pretend to go to the bathroom so you can talk amongst yourselves about what you’re keeping from me.”
I watched her go, feeling worse than ever. It was one thing to lie; it was another thing to lie to your mother, your savior.
As soon as Grandma turned the corner, Ariana ran around the workbench and sat next to me. “So, when are you going to tell her about the baby?” she whispered.
I wished that were my only secret. “Soon. I was thinking after my next appointment, in two and a half weeks. I read it’s best to tell people after twelve weeks. That’s when the greatest danger for miscarriage has passed.” Which was technically this week. All I had to do was convince Brock it was time to start spreading the news. I wasn’t exactly sure how to broach that subject, since it was a topic we skirted around like the plague. I knew he had said after the
first trimester was over, but was he really ready to play happy while being barraged with congratulations on his impending fatherhood? Perhaps his father had given him a pep talk about that too. Maybe his acting skills would cover this aspect as well.
She grabbed my hands, so excited. “I can’t wait to snuggle your baby.”
“Me either.” I had been dreaming lately of a little baby girl. She was perfect, with dark hair and smooth olive skin. She smelled heavenly, and when I cradled her against my chest, I swore it felt so real. So worth all the pain. This baby was like a beacon on a hill, helping me to put one step in front of another, no matter how long or how hard the climb was.
“How are you feeling? You look like you have some more color to your skin.”
“I’m feeling better. I still get nauseated, but mostly only during the morning. I’m still exhausted, though.”
“I bet Brock’s not helping out there.” She playfully nudged me. “These men. I swear all they think about is sex.”
I spat out a fake laugh before I cried, “Yep. Men.”
Thankfully, Kinsley walked in bearing bags of food and saved me from having to continue talking about my nonexistent sex life. “What are you laughing about?” she asked.
“Men.” Ariana grinned.
“If Brant is one of them, I’ve already seen the pictures and watched the newsclips.”
Ariana and I gave Kinsley our full attention.
Kinsley stood proud and as tall as she could, which wasn’t tall at all. “Jill looked absolutely ridiculous.” Kinsley shook her head in disgust. “She looked like a bucket of sparkles attacked her and she lost.” She laughed and we joined her. It was probably the meanest thing Kinsley had ever said in her life.
Kinsley took a deep cleansing breath and let it out. “I decided last night if that was his choice, I don’t want to be an option. I’m not going to consider myself second best to her.”
Huh. Grandma was right. Again. Kinsley was stronger than we gave her credit for.
Ariana and I rushed our sister and wrapped her in our arms.
“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you and Brant,” Ariana teased.
“There really wasn’t. There couldn’t be,” Kinsley said, muffled between us. “Still . . . I wanted there to be. But he made his choice.”
Yes, dear Kinsley, we all made choices. I’m so, so sorry for mine. Brant and I never meant to hurt you.
Chapter Fifteen
“Aren’t they the cutest couple?” Ariana whispered in my ear.
I was standing in the kitchen, staring for an unnaturally long time at our dinner guests, Aspen and Miles Wickham. I couldn’t help it, though. The way the debonair Brit always kept his hand on his wife’s burgeoning belly was mesmerizing. He had even kissed it once while they conversed with Jonah, Brock, and Tristan, Miles’s editor who was here visiting from London. With the help of Miles, we had kind of set up Tristan and Kinsley, unbeknownst to her. Anyway, I was in awe and so jealous of Aspen and Miles. I wanted what they had so desperately. What must it be like to have a man love you and your baby so much?
“They really are.” I tore my eyes away and focused back on dinner. Thank goodness for Kinsley and Ariana. I wasn’t blessed with the good-cook gene. Kinsley had made her to-die-for lasagna and homemade breadsticks. Ariana had brought Caesar salad. Me? I bought a beautiful chocolate cake from a bakery in Pine Falls on my way home from work. I was domestic like that.
Kinsley slid between us. “Are you trying to set me up?”
Ariana bit her lip. “With whom?” she played coy.
Kinsley narrowed her eyes at us. “With the gorgeous Brit.” She pointed covertly at the attractive man swirling his glass of chardonnay and laughing near the lit gas fireplace. He had the boyish charm of a younger Hugh Grant, with his messy chestnut hair and lively blue eyes. I would say he was around my age, so about five years older than Kinsley.
“You sound like you might be interested,” I threw in.
Kinsley smacked my arm. “I don’t need you to set me up on pity dates.”
“Does he look pitiful?” I countered.
Kinsley smirked. “Not at all. But still. I can get my own dates.”
“We know that. You’re a beautiful woman. We just thought a little hot foreign fling might cheer you up.” Ariana nudged Kinsley.
Kinsley rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you two, but . . . if I have to sit next to him during dinner, I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.”
We all laughed.
Brock popped into the sexy, sleek, state-of-the-art kitchen with black steel appliances and steel countertops. Kinsley didn’t find it very functional since it was quite narrow, but it looked pretty.
“Do you need any help?” he asked me.
“Would you mind taking the lasagna to the table?”
“Sure thing.” He kissed my lips, putting on a good show for all our guests, before carefully picking up the lasagna with some hot pads.
Once Brock was out of earshot, Ariana quietly commented, “Looks like you two are figuring it out. You both seem happier.”
I was glad everyone thought so. Things were better between us, as in we were such good actors, we kept up the act even when no one was around. It made it easier when we were in public. We were kind of like an old married couple who had settled into a routine. Most nights we ate a quiet dinner together and talked about our days, mostly work related. Since he was only working part time, some of his days were spent at Holland Industries or working in his dad’s workshop. Apparently, he was making my Christmas present. Which was probably more for show than anything. Once dinner was over and we cleaned up, we would retire to the couch, where I would catch up on emails and he would read. When it was time to go to bed, he would chastely kiss me. No parting of lips, no lingering, only a peck. Somehow, we had come to an unspoken agreement between us that we would never have a physical relationship.
“Yeah, we are,” I responded. We were figuring out how to live half a life. I wondered how long it could go on before my soul died. Pretend love was worse than no love. However, I was buying time. I had started training Erin on every aspect of Children to Love, and I had decided to use the credit card Brock gave me for any of my expenses. I had been hesitant when he’d offered, but then decided to use it so I could save every bit of my meager salary just in case I had to disappear. I had also been studying up on remote areas in foreign countries, somewhere Edward and John wouldn’t be able to find me. I couldn’t believe I was thinking like this. Though what choice did I have? Eventually, things would go sour between Brock and me. I didn’t see Brock living in a loveless marriage for eternity. I didn’t see him loving my baby.
“We knew you would.” Ariana grabbed her salad and headed toward the dining room.
I soldiered on with my fake happy wife attitude and arranged the freshly baked breadsticks in a basket. Their heavenly aroma at least gave me something to look forward to, and the way Kinsley smiled while dreamily looking at her date for the night did too. I vowed to see Kinsley happy. I wouldn’t leave until she was. Just like that first day when we had been thrown together and sent to a new home. I had claimed her then and there as my sister. I had promised I would make it all okay for her. With my last breath, I would. I only prayed she never found out how I had betrayed her. I touched my stomach. I would never forgive myself.
I walked down the steps into the sunken dining room that was enveloped in windows. During the day, the mountain view from those windows was breathtaking. Even now, at night, with the candles burning low on the table, the candlelight reflecting against the night-shrouded windows added a special ambience. Still, it all felt like I was playing house in Barbie’s dream home. The decorated table was worthy of Martha Stewart, or at least I had followed Martha’s instructions on how to properly set and decorate a table for dinner guests. Sheridan had told me that one thing she wished she’d known at the beginning of her marriage was how to set a proper table when entertaining. So, I
bought burlap place mats, gold chargers, and candleholders, and ordered greenery and white roses that graced the table. And, per Martha’s instructions, arranged them all in a manner befitting a Holland.
I smiled at my guests, both young and old, as I descended the stairs. Especially the younger guests. Whitney had come with her parents, and Aspen and Miles had brought their son and daughter. Henry, their son, was the cutest five-year-old, with dark tousled hair and a royal accent to die for. He was actually Miles’s nephew, but his parents had died when he was three. Chloe, their teen daughter, from a previous marriage, was the spitting image of her mother, with hair of golden brown and fine features. A beautiful girl. Whitney, though closer to Henry’s age, was talking more to Chloe and filling her in on the dinosaur dig she had done in Montana before school started. It was Whitney’s wish to become a paleontologist one day. She had already created extensive reports based on the meticulous journal she had kept while on the expedition she’d had with Jonah and Ariana. Chloe was kind enough to look through them.
Of most interest, though, was Tristan and Kinsley, who were already seated together and chatting. I silently begged God, if he still loved me even a little bit after everything I had done, that he would let Kinsley find a man worthy of her. That she would find happiness, like Ariana.
Brock was to me as soon as I took the last step and relieved me of the basket of breadsticks that, honestly, I could have eaten all by myself. It was weird to feel hungry again. And did I ever need a carb fix.
“Thank you,” I said to Brock, who looked, in a word, happy. He probably enjoyed having more than me to talk to. And he loved talking all things medical with Miles and Jonah. Especially since Miles was planning on writing a sequel to his medical thriller. Harvest of Blood was still burning up the charts. I’d heard the three men planning dates and times for when they could get together to discuss the next book. It was good for Brock to have the distraction. He needed friends, since his first and best friend was out of the picture.
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