wouldn’t. I couldn’t hurt Sheridan’s feelings. She had been kind enough to bring me lunch earlier today when she heard I was working alone in the hotel room. She’d tried to convince me to come to the spa with her, but I couldn’t afford to love her any more than I already did. And I knew if I gave it a chance, we would be close, like a mother and daughter. It would be under false pretenses, though, and I cared about Sheridan too much to allow that to happen. Besides, I didn’t want to get used to things like spa days. Eventually, those things would come to an end when I figured a way out of this sticky situation.
Brock met me at the door, his eyes still questioning. He took my hand. “Dani, I’m sorry about last night. Things were moving too fast.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing. I agree with you. We should slow things down.” I squeezed his hand before letting it go. Such loss filled me, but I kept my tears and emotions at bay.
He stared down at his hand, flexing it. Did he feel the emptiness too?
I had to stop asking myself questions like that. It wasn’t doing me any good. I opened the door and quickly walked out into the hall to face the night before I lost my nerve. Brock followed me, frustration etched on his handsome, tan face. He had gotten some sun today while golfing.
We walked down the hall together in silence toward the elevators. Brock stayed by my side yet was careful to keep some distance between us. In the elevator, we looked anywhere but at each other. The elevator chimed, announcing our arrival at our destination. It was time to be Mrs. Brock Holland. I slipped my arm into the crook of Brock’s elbow and pasted on a content smile as we passed through the elevator doors. Brock glanced down at me, a look of confusion and concern in his eyes. As we walked through the stately lobby, across the shiniest tile floor known to man, I could feel the stares and hear the excited whispers. It wasn’t every day you got to see an American hero in the flesh. A man who had graced every cable news channel for weeks. Brock was gracious and smiled at his admirers. I played my part and smiled too.
A middle-aged couple braved approaching us. The man heartily shook Brock’s hand while the woman complimented my dress. “Could I please get a picture of both of you?” she sweetly asked. “Our son is serving overseas right now, and it would mean the world to him.”
“Of course,” I didn’t hesitate to respond. I was going to win best actress for portraying Mrs. Brock Holland.
“Thank you. You’re a beautiful couple, and your story is so inspiring.”
Oh, I hoped no one was inspired to be like us.
Brock did his duty and put his arm around me. I had to hold my breath. His scent and touch were hard to resist. We smiled while the woman took a dozen pictures with her phone.
“Wow. Just wow,” she kept saying. “We are so honored to have met you.”
“Thank you,” Brock responded. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Best wishes to your son.” He kept his hand on the small of my back and led us the rest of the way to the ballroom, where the press had already congregated. It was showtime, again. Lights flashed in our faces like we were arriving on the red carpet. Questions were being lobbed at us so fast I had no idea what was being asked.
Brock held up a hand. “Tonight is about my brother and his fiancée. My wife and I are only here to celebrate them.”
It pricked my heart when he referred to me as his wife. It sounded so genuine coming out of his mouth, but we both knew the truth. The man couldn’t even stand for me to tell him that I loved him. He wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed as me with pillows between us.
The press still lobbed questions at us as we entered the grand ballroom. Everything glittered and sparkled, from the enormous flower arrangements on each table with sparkler-looking things shooting out of them to the rhinestone-encrusted napkin holders. Going overboard on the bling was an understatement. I was sure it was meant to look elegant, but it looked tacky to me.
Brock chuckled under his breath. “We should have worn sunglasses.”
“Yeah,” was all