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I force myself to focus, to be strong like he taught me. Dad listens intently to the doctor, brow furrowed but resolute. He’s always faced adversity head on. Now it’s my turn.
After finalizing details, Dr. Klein excuses himself. Dad turns to me, eyes softening.
“Emma, whatever happens tomorrow, I’m so proud of you. Of the strong young woman you’ve become.” He squeezes my hand with surprising firmness. “Don’t let fear hold you back from living life to the fullest. Focus on what you can control, and let the rest fall into place.”
My vision blurs, but I blink back the tears and lean in to hug him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, baby girl. Now go on - I’ll see you soon.”
I cling to his words as I make my way back through the sterile maze of hallways, the weight of uncertainty pressing down. Dad’s right - all I can do is take things one step at a time and have faith.
Still, by the time I step outside into the glaring afternoon sun, the full implications hit me square in the chest, nearly knocking the wind from my lungs. My father, my rock through so many storms, is facing the fight of his life behind those doors. And I’m about to play pretend girlfriend with his wellbeing hanging in the balance.
I rake both hands through my hair, breathing shakily through the surge of emotions. Get it together, Thompson. Dad needs you to be strong now more than ever. You can do this. One step at a time.
With effort, I rein myself in and head for my car. Time to go prep for tonight’s performance.
* * *
“You look nice.”
Xavier’s gaze lingers as I slide into the limo beside him, a glimmer in those dark eyes. The appreciation in them bolsters me, steadies my rattled nerves even as his presence twists other parts of me. I allow myself a moment to take in the sight of him - crisp charcoal suit accentuating those athletic shoulders, smooth jawline begging to be touched. A strange sort of comfort washes over me. Maybe this is exactly the distraction I need tonight.
“Not too shabby yourself,” I return, skimming a hand down his lapel. Xavier catches my hand as it falls, giving a light squeeze.
“You okay? You seem...” He pauses, searching for the word.
“Stressed? Distracted? Emotionally unstable?” I supply wryly.
His lips quirk. “I was going to say pensive.”
I sigh, gently extricating my hand from his warm grasp. “It’s my dad. He took a bad turn today. I don’t know if he told you, but he needs pretty risky heart surgery. They are operating tomorrow.”
Saying the words out loud makes them real, unleashing a fresh swell of emotions. I blink hard, willing my voice not to break. Xavier’s hand finds mine again, grounding me. The warmth I feel is more comforting than arousing and I know that should freak me out, but I don’t have the energy to let it.
“Emma, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If you want to cancel…”
His voice resonates with sincerity. The genuine emotion there nearly breaks my resolve. But I marshal myself, clinging to composure. I appreciate his support, but I can’t let myself lean too hard on him. We can be friends, but nothing more.
“I appreciate that. But no. Let’s just...try to enjoy tonight, okay? I could really use the distraction.”
Xavier searches my face, his eyes filled with things unsaid. But finally he nods, giving my hand one last squeeze before releasing it. “You got it. I’ll keep you distracted.”
The limo slows to a stop at the hotel’s entrance. I straighten my shoulders and extend a hand.
“Shall we give them a good show?”
Xavier takes it with a hint of a smile. “Let’s do this.”
We step out hand in hand into the flashing lights, leaving the solitude of the limo behind. Instantly we slip into character - his proprietary hand on my back, my adoring smile up at him. The press eats it up as we pause for photos. Xavier spins me effortlessly into his embrace. The crisp scent of his cologne mingles with the heady energy of the crowd, making my head spin.
We continue inside, the din of the ballroom hitting me like a wave. Extravagant chandeliers hang above circular banquet tables draped in gold fabric. An orchestra plays unobtrusively in the corner while servers weave through with trays of champagne flutes. It’s all overwhelmingly opulent.
Xavier keeps me tucked close as we make small talk with fellow players and club owners. I’m keenly aware of his warm palm pressed to the small of my back, the casual intimacy of his hold on me. Each introduction as his girlfriend sends an illicit thrill through me. I enjoy it far more than I should, but after the day I’ve had, I can’t bring myself to give it up.
The circular dance floor beckons as music swells through the speakers. Xavier turns to me, eyes gleaming.
“Shall we?”
