because his dad had told him he should.
Sheridan wrapped me in her arms before she relinquished her spot. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you. And don’t let Jill get to you.”
I leaned back, in shock. “How did you know—”
“Honey, I know her type. She doesn’t fool me, and don’t let her fool you.” She stood without another word.
In amazement, I watched her head toward John, who reached out and pulled his wife onto his lap. She snuggled into him, and he tenderly kissed her lips. I felt the love between them and was almost jealous, even if I hated John. The man was a walking dichotomy. Sheridan confused me too. How could she see through Jill but not her husband? I didn’t have time to dwell on it as Brock slid in next to me, looking a little apprehensive. Which put me on edge.
“I thought you needed to work.”
He brushed my hair back off my shoulder. “There are more important things.”
I wanted to believe his words but couldn’t. I leaned in as close as I could get to whisper in his ear, “Like pleasing your father.”
“That sounds disturbing,” he teased.
A small laugh escaped me. He hadn’t teased me in a long time.
My laugh made him smile.
My fingers gently played near the corners of his mouth. “I’ve missed your smile.”
He reached up and caught my hand. “I came over here because I was missing you.”
I bit my lip. “You were?”
“You find that hard to believe?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“Let me see what I can do about that.” He scooted closer and wrapped his arm around me.
I curled my feet under me and tucked into his side, my head landing on his chest. I savored the closeness and thrilled to hear his heart beat as erratically as mine was. I closed my eyes, feeling at home for the first time in a long time.
“Is this better?” he asked.
“Much better.”
Chapter Ten
I sat in a lounge chair on the terrace outside my hotel bedroom, watching the early-morning runners jog along the path that followed the C&O Canal. They almost seemed out of place in this historic city. The old buildings and trees that could probably tell incredible stories made me feel as if I had been transported back in time two hundred years. The city was on the verge of fall—there was still plenty of greenery, but hints of red and orange played among the leaves. Though it wasn’t cold, the humidity made it feel damp and chilly. I wrapped the thick cotton hotel robe around me tighter. It was as luxurious as the accommodations.
I couldn’t sleep, even though the bed was probably the most comfortable bed I’d ever had the pleasure of lying on. Between the baby, who made me have to use the bathroom more and more every day, and how lonely the space felt with Brock sleeping on the couch in the living room, I had given up and come out here to read. I was grateful for technology, allowing me to conceal all my books about pregnancy on the reading app on my phone. Though I had a hard time concentrating. I thought, with how Brock had behaved on the flight last night, that he would have taken me up on the invitation to share the bed. I’d even offered to place pillows between us, if it made him feel better. He had only kissed my head and made up the couch.
It had to have been an uncomfortable night for him. The couch, though roomy, was much smaller than his tall, muscular frame. Not to mention he was having bad dreams again last night. He’d called my name a few times. However, each time I’d checked on him, he was fitfully sleeping, unaware I was watching over him. I’d wondered if his nightmares were of Afghanistan or our situation. Maybe some of both.
I nibbled on my protein bar while trying to comprehend what I was reading about natural childbirth techniques and the benefits of hiring a doula. I was worried about how the day of my delivery would look. Would Brock want to be by my side? Would he come to the birthing classes and future prenatal appointments with me? I was too afraid to ask him, even though I ached for him to be my partner in this. I knew what a selfish, unfair wish that was. For now, I planned on going it alone. I should probably get a doula.
While I was reading