In Name Only (Pine Falls #2) - Jennifer Peel Page 0,6
to gag. There was something about dental hygiene that repulsed my pregnant body.
Ten minutes turned into twenty when I threw up one more time and had to repeat the process. By the time I wandered out of the bathroom, all I wanted to do was go to my designated room here and sleep forever, or at least until the first trimester was over. I had to lean against the wall for support as I walked down the hall, careful not to disrupt any of the artwork. The custom watercolors I had handpicked with Brock after he had bought the house six months ago. Those were happier days—house hunting with him. I’d fooled myself into thinking he wanted my input because perhaps one day he meant for the place to be ours. As I passed by the white french doors that led to his bedroom, I was painfully reminded that this house was his and his alone. I stopped, ran my hand across the smooth wood, and leaned my forehead against it. Wishing for the nausea to subside and aching for the doors to welcome me in. Both were futile dreams.
The day we were married, Brock brought me here and took my luggage to the guest bedroom down the hall. Every day since, he’d spent most of his time behind these closed doors, unable to work until he passed all his physical and psychological evaluations. I knew he was anxious to return to his practice—at least that’s what he told the reporters in my presence. I wondered if it was wise. When I did spend the night here, I could hear Brock screaming out in his sleep: reliving the hellish real-life nightmare he’d endured in Afghanistan and probably since being home. I longed to go to him and comfort him, but I knew it would be unwelcome.
I closed my eyes and thought of Kinsley, my younger sister. I heard her crying at night about Brant marrying another, when I couldn’t bring myself to stay the night here. Which was more often than not. Most of the time I slept at the loft I had once shared with both Kinsley and Ariana, before Ariana got married this past summer. Little did Kinsley know I played a part in her sobs. How it racked me with guilt, and how I prayed she would never find out what I had done. Still, the guilt was easier to bear than the loneliness. Which was why the nights when I should have been “home” with Brock, I found myself at the loft. I kept paying rent under the guise that I didn’t want to leave Kinsley high and dry. While it was true—she could have never afforded it by herself—the real reason was because it was the only place of refuge I had left to me.
I took several slow, deep breaths before pushing myself off the door and facing the music once again. How I found myself in this position, I could still barely believe. I’d thought I was smarter and stronger than this. I’d fought too hard for the life I had to end up back in the clutches of another man stronger and more cunning than me. Yet, it wasn’t my life I was fighting for. A mother’s love was the most powerful force on earth. I had no idea until last month how real it was. My own mother had abandoned me as a child and let me fend for myself among the wolves in sheep’s clothing of my foster families. It wasn’t until the Kramers—Grandma Kay and Grandpa Sam—rescued me when I was seventeen that I learned what family truly meant. Theirs was the kind of family I longed to give the child I carried. The child I would do anything for—even live a lie.
I trudged down the floating staircase and couldn’t help but admire the pristine surroundings. The completely open space below was breathtaking with a contemporary gray stone fireplace center stage. The clean-lined ivory furniture played beautifully against the dark wood floors. While beautiful, it didn’t scream child friendly. Brock said he would love this baby as his own—it was, after all, his niece or nephew—but I worried it was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. Not only did my baby represent my betrayal to him, but his life also wasn’t suited for children. Brock had talked of having a wife and children someday, yet he had never been in a hurry to make it a reality.