Ariana placed her hand on top of ours. For a moment I felt that unstoppable feeling I always had when the three of us came together. I reveled in it for a few blissful seconds before reality hit me. As strong as we were together, John Holland was unconquerable.
“Dani,” Kinsley whispered, “we both agreed we should have been more forceful with Ariana and helped her face her demons sooner.”
“You can’t blame yourselves for that,” Ariana replied. “But with that said,” she gripped our hands with all her might, “I won’t stand by anymore and watch you suffer. Please tell us what’s going on. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.”
My eyes began to well up with tears.
“That wasn’t meant to hurt your feelings,” Kinsley reiterated. She could never stand to offend someone, even if it was to her own detriment.
“I know.” I wiped my traitorous eyes. “It’s just . . .” What could I say that wasn’t a lie? I was so tired of lies already, and I had a lifetime of them to go.
“It’s just what?” Ariana begged to know.
I bit my lip. “Well . . . it’s just been a lot of change in a short period of time.”
Kinsley narrowed her eyes. “It’s more than that. You’ve lost weight, and you’re sleeping at the loft most nights even though you’re married.”
“Has Brock done something to you?” Ariana hesitantly asked.
Did they think he was abusing me? I guess I couldn’t blame them. I was exhibiting several telltale signs. “No. You know him better than that.”
They both let out sighs of relief. They really had thought I was being abused. I needed to fix this. How? I had no idea.
Ariana leaned back on the desk. “Then spill. You haven’t been yourself since Brock got home. Your quickie wedding, avoiding us, your weight loss, it’s all . . .” Her eyes widened in an aha moment. “Are you pregnant?”
Kinsley faltered against the desk, while my mouth fell open. Lie, I kept telling myself, but I couldn’t. Not about my baby. Not to the women who were looking at me so tenderly. I needed them. I ached for someone to be happy about the precious gift I carried, and I knew they would be.
I took a deep breath and looked at the door to make sure it was closed. “If I tell you what’s going on, you have to promise me you won’t say a word. Not even to Jonah or Grandma and Grandpa. Not a soul. Do you pinky promise?”
They immediately held out their pinkies. I used both of mine to seal the deal. I sat back and swallowed hard. “I am pregnant,” I whispered.
They both squealed.
“Don’t get too excited. Brock isn’t all that happy about it.”
“What?” Ariana couldn’t believe it. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“It wasn’t exactly how he planned it.” That was true. “For some reason he’s embarrassed we weren’t married when it happened.” That was a half lie. “He doesn’t want anyone to know yet.”
Kinsley tilted her head. “But, after everything he’s been through, he should be happy he got the chance. And it’s not like it’s the 1950s.”
“You know him; he’s all about tradition. And it’s a lot to take in after his ordeal. I don’t think he was prepared to be a husband and father so soon. Honestly, maybe never.”
“He only married you because of the baby?” Kinsley was aghast.
I nodded without thinking. It was foolish. Yet if I couldn’t trust them, I couldn’t trust anyone.
“I don’t believe that,” Ariana stated matter-of-factly.
My eyes flew up to meet hers.
“He loves you. He’s always loved you, but it became more apparent after he got home. He couldn’t take his eyes and hands off you. I still see it in every interview you do. I saw it the day you got married as you stood before the pastor. By the way, Whitney is still appalled you didn’t ask her to be a flower girl.”
I couldn’t help but smile thinking about Ariana’s stepdaughter. I could picture her stomping her foot and giving a discourse on how unhappy she was with my decision not to have a wedding party. She was the smartest six-year-old on the planet with the vocabulary of a Harvard scholar. However, it was Ariana’s words about Brock that had my head swimming. How I wanted them to be true. I knew Brock had admitted to being in love with me last night, but this didn’t feel and hadn’t felt like love. All I remembered from standing before the pastor was Brock’s stiff stance during the ceremony and the way he’d kissed me after we were pronounced man and wife. It was much like the kiss from last night—urgent and final. It was as if every time he braved kissing me, he knew it would be the last time; or perhaps he hoped it would be.