In Name Only (Pine Falls #2) - Jennifer Peel Page 0,4
Brock. He was running his scarred hand—marks left from trying to fight off his captives—over his hair, which was growing out of the military cut. He looked handsome in any haircut, but I loved it when it was long enough to see his natural wave. Brock kept swallowing down what he really wanted to say, which was that he’d rather hear anything other than what his mother thought of me. Brock and I agreed once again. No need to keep shoving the knife farther into my heart and Brock’s back.
John didn’t agree and grabbed hold of the hilt of the knife and twisted it. “Love,” he flashed his politician smile at his wife, “what did you tell our son about our beautiful daughter-in-law?” Each word he spoke was covered in slime so thick it made my insides squirm.
Sheridan brought her hands up to her face, bursting with joy. She obviously didn’t notice how rigid we stood or how Brock’s hand clenched near his side. “The way you looked at your future bride that day said it all. It said—”
“I would change my life for you,” Brock finished his mother’s thought, making my head jerk up. When our eyes met, mine were filled with tears, his with despair. His hurt made my tears overflow. Then shame at admitting how much he’d once cared for me quickly replaced the hurt in his eyes. The pain that look caused me stole my breath.
“And so you have.” Sheridan placed her perfectly manicured hand on Brock’s cheek. “I wasn’t sure we would ever see this day,” her voice cracked. No one had been more distraught than his mother the day we were told Brock had been killed. “But look at you now. Out of my deepest grief has come my greatest joy—seeing you happily married.”
Did we look happy? We were better actors than I thought.
Brock placed a hand over his mother’s, not saying a word. His silence was my protection.
John gave his son an out by pulling over another parishioner. A distinguished gray-haired gentleman dressed to the nines in a designer suit. “Lance, come and meet my daughter-in-law.”
Lance and the woman I assumed was his wife eagerly took the invitation and slid into the pew in front of us. Before Lance could say anything, his much younger wife, with hair of gold and teeth as bright as the sun, reached for Sheridan. “Please tell me you will be throwing a reception for these two.” She nodded toward us.
I held my breath, silently begging Sheridan to say no. The story we had told everyone, including the press, when Brock and I got married was that we had done it so quickly and privately because we had realized life was too short and we didn’t want to spend another minute apart. How I wished it were true. However, with Brock recovering, and under the circumstances, we’d been thwarting any attempts by the well-meaning Sheridan to throw a celebration. Besides, we didn’t want to overshadow the other train wreck that was Brant and Jill’s engagement. Unfortunately, in a couple of weeks, we would be flying back east to attend a huge soiree in their honor being thrown by Jill’s family. Our attendance was nonnegotiable. I couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable than being at the engagement party for my child’s father while married to his brother. It’s not like Brant and I loved each other. At least not in the way our behavior indicated on that fateful night. I shuddered thinking about it. Our emotions had gotten the better of us. Neither of us were proud of it. But we had just lost the man we loved the most. The man who hated us both now.
Sheridan’s pretty eyes lit up. “Believe me, I’m working on it.”
Internally I groaned, while Brock hung his head.
Sheridan swatted him. “Now don’t act like that. Everyone wants to celebrate your joyous union.”
“Love,” John interjected. “Let’s discuss parties later. Lance is interested in learning more about the work Dani does with Children to Love. Perhaps even donating.”
I had to refrain from throwing John a scathing glance. Nothing was sacred to him. Not even the foster children and young adults who had aged out of foster care that my foundation helped. John held it over my head like an anvil, waiting to crush me as soon as I slipped up. To him, though, my nonprofit work was what made me a suitable wife for his son.
“I told him,” John continued, “he couldn’t find a worthier cause.