Her green eyes searched his face. “You did miss me.”
“I missed you.” He smoothed her hair back, content to look at her.
“Knock, knock?” The hospital room door opened. “Hello?”
Emmy Lou jumped up before he could stop her. Even wide-eyed and flustered, she was beautiful.
“Brock?”
“Vanessa?” His ex-wife was the last person he’d expected to see here. She’d met his father a total of two times—one of which she was fall-down drunk and probably didn’t remember.
“Hi.” Vanessa hugged him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come visit before now.”
“You didn’t have to come.” He hugged her back. “I never expected you to.”
“No, I know…” She glanced toward the bed and saw Emmy Lou. “Oh. Hi.” She looked at him, then Emmy Lou. “I’m Vanessa Trentham—was Watson. Wow. If I’d known I’d be meeting a celebrity, I’d have put myself together.”
Brock gave her a quick once-over. Vanessa was a model. It didn’t matter what she wore; she always looked like a model. A pair of oversized sunglasses held back her long, black hair. The blue dress she wore looked expensive. The spiky heels on her feet looked even more expensive.
Emmy Lou stood, tugging at her oversized sweatshirt. “Nice to meet you. Emmy Lou King.” She smiled. “I was just heading out, actually.”
“You don’t have to go, Em.” Brock shook his head.
“No, not on my account,” Vanessa agreed, her dark eyes bouncing between them with unconcealed interest.
“Someone’s waiting on me. But it was nice to meet you,” Emmy said. Vanessa shook her hand. “I’m glad to see your father’s doing better, Brock. Guess I’ll see you Thursday for the Drug Free Like Me spot. The Elaine Show?” The flash in her green eyes had the same impact as a jolt of electrical current.
He nodded. Connie had called him about it as he was leaving the photo shoot. Another guest’s last-minute cancellation had given him exactly what he needed—time with Emmy.
“Good. Great. Looking forward to it.” She nodded, pulled her hair back, and tugged up her hoodie. “Bye.” With a little wave, she headed to the door.
It took everything he had not to go after her.
But Vanessa was watching him closely. Too closely.
“What?” He asked.
She shook her head. “How’s your dad?”
“Better.” He glanced at his father. “Being hardheaded is working in his favor.”
“I’m so sorry, Brock.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Sometimes life is unfair, isn’t it?” Her tone was the first hint that something was up. “I heard about Alpha. That?
?s huge. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He paused, then said, “I appreciate you stopping by to see my father, V; I do. But I’d rather we skip to why you’re here.”
“Of course.” She ran one hand up and down her arm, agitated. “I need help—”
“V, I can’t help you.” He sat, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I can’t.”
“It’s not that.” She paced the room, then back again. “It’s my mom. You know that little artists’ community she was all psyched about?”
He nodded. Vanessa’s mom had worked three jobs to pay for all of Vanessa’s pageants, headshots, and travel. She’d been determined to give her daughter a better life. And she had, for a while.
“She found the perfect place, and she’s so happy, and I really want to do this for her, Brock. I do. But I don’t have the money… Not right now.”
He sat back. “You need money?”