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“I mean, we love each other, of course. But not like that,” I add quickly.
Ford exhales, making his broad chest move up and down. “People get married for all kinds of different reasons.”
“Like what?” I ask, crossing my arms in anticipation of what he’ll come up with.
“You remember Andie? She reads a lot, and the people in her books get married for citizenship, mafia protection, and even a woman’s chastity being compromised. You name it.”
A humorless laugh comes out of my mouth. “Ford. That’s fiction. And it’s a little too late for the chastity argument.”
He huffs a laugh. “Okay, but we could help each other. This would solve both of our problems.”
“How could this possibly solve your problems? You don’t even have any problems!” I throw my hands up in frustration. Did my best friend have a brain aneurysm during dinner? Where is this conversation even coming from?
“You think I don’t have any problems?” His voice sounds tortured, almost like he’s holding back tears. “My parents are constantly worried about me. Always expecting me to revert to my childhood self and start throwing tantrums and hiding from people I don’t know.”
He stands up abruptly, turning and pacing around in a circle. I get up as well, moving in front of him so he’ll stop pacing. I have to look up to meet his gaze.
“My mom thinks I’m going to die alone.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?” His expression breaks my heart. His brow is furrowed, hair ruffled, shoulders slumped forward. The man literally thinks no one wants him.
Taking a step closer to him, I place my hands on his upper arms. Arms that are really, really firm beneath my fingertips. My breath hitches, and I think to myself how silly it is that this extremely attractive man thinks a woman wouldn’t want him. I’m a touchy person, especially with serious conversations like this. I feel the need to touch him to say what I’m about to say, and I hope he’s not offended at the connection.
“Ford, listen to me. You are not only wildly attractive…” I pause, watching as his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You’re wealthy, talented, and a genuinely amazing human.”
He looks thoughtful, those dark eyebrows quirking, then straightening, then arching. He has so many emotions splaying across his face, it looks like an eyebrow workout. “Do you really think I’m…wildly attractive?”
I snort a laugh. “Have you looked in a mirror? You’re tall, dark, and handsome… plus you have a hockey butt.”
His eyebrows shoot up again. “A hockey what?”
I shake my head. “We’re getting away from the subject at hand. My point is, some lucky woman will snatch you up before you know it. And you can’t be insurance-married to me when you meet the one and fall in love.”
Ford shakes his head, his dark hair still messy from his hands. “I can’t open up to people, Ambs. I’ve never been able to. The only people who really know me are my family and you.”
“What about your teammates? You guys seem close,” I say, curious why he didn’t include them.
“They don’t know I have autism.”
I keep my mouth shut tight, trying to avoid gaping at him, before I ask, “Why wouldn’t you tell them? There’s nothing wrong with being neurodivergent. Obviously, it hasn’t stopped you from being an NHL team captain.”
He smiles softly before his mouth turns down in a frown. “I know. But when I got my first NHL contract, I was so worried that it would be too overwhelming…too loud, too many people. I thought if people knew, they’d be watching, waiting for me to fail.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “And then, I made friends.” He shrugs those massive shoulders. “When I was younger, people would give me that poor you gaze when they found out. And I couldn’t stand the idea of my friends looking at me that way.
“I don’t know your friends that well, but I can tell they look up to you. You’re their captain, their leader. A position you earned, a position they respect. There’s no way they would pity you.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I put a hand up, motioning for him to stop. “You have every right to your privacy. I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to tell them, I think you could, and they wouldn’t react the way you think.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he agrees, leaning against the tree we used to swing on, crossing one long leg over the other. “We keep getting sidetracked. I’m just saying, we could be married for a few years. Show my mom I’m not a completely lost cause.” He smirks. “And you’d have your procedure paid for. And no rent. You could save a lot, be in a better financial position when we go our separate ways again. If that’s what we wanted to do.”
I lean against the large oak tree beside him, allowing my body to rest against his warmth. I should’ve grabbed my coat. Ford doesn’t tense or shrug away. Maybe he’s getting better with touch?
Leaning my head against his shoulder, I close my eyes and allow myself to imagine being married to my best friend. Could our friendship survive such an arrangement? He does have a point—the stress of paying him back tens of thousands of dollars would take me years. On top of everything else I need to be saving for. What if Nella breaks her arm some day? Or needs braces? I’ll have no savings because of this stupid surgery repayment.
And I would repay it. Despite what Ford says.
“Promise me you’ll think about it?” Ford whispers, his mouth close to my ear. “You know I’ll help you no matter what—the money you need for medical care, whatever else you need. I’m just offering another option. One that might benefit us both.”
With a sigh of resignation I promise, “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
