“There’s always too much food, and I know you love to decorate a Christmas tree,” I added in, trying to coax her.
She waved her hand in the air. “You kids go and have fun. Please,” she begged. “I need to be alone,” she reiterated.
We knew she wouldn’t be persuaded, so we stopped pestering her.
As we were all about to part to walk to our separate cars, Brant received a text. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and while he read the text, we could all tell by the way his face exploded in red that it wasn’t pleasant. Without a word, he held up his phone so we could read it for ourselves.
Jill’s name stood out first.
If I can’t be happy, neither can you. You think you’ve bought your freedom today, but I swear I will see you pay for leaving me like you did. I gave my life for you. No one will ever love you like I love you.
A chill swept through me. She was psychotic.
“Save that text and any others she sends you,” Brock counseled him. “You can nail her for harassment. You might even need a restraining order.”
Sheridan’s face turned white. “Has she contacted you like this before?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Mom,” Brant skirted the question, yet said all we needed to know. The answer was yes. “This will all blow over soon.” He didn’t sound very confident.
I, for one, didn’t believe it. The Copelands wouldn’t go quietly into the night. They would seek their revenge. That I was sure of. The question was, How and when?
“Just be careful.” Sheridan hugged Brant. “I’m so proud of you.” She was on the verge of tears. When she released Brant, she looked between all of us. “I’m so proud of all of you. The love and forgiveness you have given each other gives me hope for our family.” Tears began trickling down her smooth cheeks. “Now go have some fun. That’s an order.”
None of us seemed keen to leave Sheridan, but she shooed us all away.
Brock wrapped his arm around me and kissed my head as we walked toward our car. “Are you sorry you joined this family?”
I stopped and looked up into his worried eyes. “My only regret is how it came about.”
Brock pulled me to him, flush against his body. The heat from him instantly warmed me through my blush sheath dress.
He swept back my hair. “If I could change that, I would. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you never question again how I feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me?” I flirted with my husband.
He leaned his forehead against mine, his warm breath bathing my face. “Dani, you’ve saved my life twice. First in Afghanistan, and then again when you gave me another chance when I didn’t deserve one. Without you, I’m not me.”
I brushed his lips with my own. His words touched my soul and erased any remaining doubts and fears that I’d had since his return. “Do you think Ariana and Jonah would mind if we were a little late tonight?”
Brock leaned away, a Cheshire grin on his face. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’d like to make love to my husband.”Chapter Thirty-Two“We should really go in,” I said breathlessly, leaning my head back so he didn’t miss a spot on my neck.
Brock’s warm lips brushed across my skin. “I’m good where we’re at. Unless you want to go home. I vote we stay in bed all weekend.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I have to run the gift wrapping shop this weekend, and then I start delivering gifts. Which you promised to help with.”
“Right,” he groaned, pushing me farther back against the leather car seat. “Just promise me we’ll go straight home every night.”
“If we must,” I teased, though I could think of nothing I wanted more. Making love to Brock had been what I’d always hoped it would be. I finally fully understood what it meant to make love. To share myself with someone so wholly. For the first time in my life, there was no guilt or shame. No wishing I could take it back. For the first time, I wanted to give more and receive more. I knew now what it meant to be one with someone. My someone.
“Believe me, we must.” He nuzzled my ear.
Though I hated to, I pushed him away. “We really need to go in there before they notice that we fogged up the windows again.”
“Like I care.” His lips crashed against mine.
“Brock,” I spoke against his lips.
“Fine.” He sat up, disgruntled.
“We don’t have to stay too long,” I conceded.
He gave me a crooked grin.
I flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror to see the damage Brock had done to my hair and makeup. I smoothed down my hair and applied a layer of gloss to my lips. “Does it look like we—”