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Theo laughs, and it’s a sardonic sound, like a true villain. “This is what I get for dating a hairstylist, and not someone more high-class. You ran off with the first man to throw you a bone.” He steps forward, and I step back. “I will get custody of my daughter, just you wait.”
Theo has always had a quick temper, but he would get over things just as quickly. Usually. He never put his hands on me in anger, but his furious expression makes me withdraw. I expect my back to hit the front door any moment, but instead, I feel Ford’s hands grasp my shoulders. I close my eyes and exhale. Feeling so much safer with him behind me.
“If I were you, I’d be careful how you speak to my wife.” Ford’s voice is steady, and colder than ice.
Theo grits his teeth, coming closer to us. Ford holds out one of his giant paw-like hands, and Theo slams into it with his forehead. Ford holds him there easily, cupping his face like it’s a measly little melon. “That’s close enough, I think,” he says, his voice low and authoritative.
Theo’s mother steps forward, her stilettos clacking against the sidewalk with each step.
“I think we need to leave and cool down. Come, Theo.” She orders him like a dog, and he turns and follows with his head down. Her body language is terse and hard, but I’m not sure whether she’s upset with me or her son. Probably me.
I notice the silver Mercedes parked in front of Ford’s house. How did they even get into this gated community? Theo turns back to glare at us before slamming the passenger-side door.
Once the Mercedes has turned a corner and is out of sight, Ford spins me to face him. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but the tears streaming down my face are traitors to my words. Ford cups my face and uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “I don’t want to overstep here, Ambs. What can I do to help?”
Wrapping my arms around him, I hide my face in the safety of his chest. He rubs my back and lets me soak his shirt. The same one I was admiring earlier.
“I don’t know what to do,” I sob. “I never thought he’d put up a fight about Nella.”
Ford effortlessly picks me up, one hand behind my knees, and the other cradling my upper body. I hear the front door close behind us, and I realize this is the first time he’s carried me over the threshold. It feels like such a newlywed thing, and it makes me cling to him a little tighter.
Ford sits on the couch, still holding me. Letting go of him with one arm, I use the back of my hand to dry my tears.
The man holding me looks pained, tortured, like someone ripped out his heart. He glances behind me, avoiding eye contact. And I bring my hand to his jaw, guiding him back to me.
He swallows, his jaw ticking in that way it does when he’s upset. “Ambs, I need you to know that I realize this marriage is fake, that we said two years and done. But my feelings are real, they always have been. Even though it would hurt like crazy…I would step away.” He pauses, trying to compose himself. “If you wanted to be with Theo, if you think that’s what’s best for you and Nella, we could end this now.” His words are a broken whisper.
We could end this now. Those words feel like a fist clutching my newly remodeled heart.
I know he’s trying to help, the way he always does. But what I want is for him to fight for us. I want him to hold on tight, like no one ever has before. I need him to fight for me. I’ve had enough people give up and throw me to the wolves.
So, as caring and patient as I know he’s being, it pisses me off. I’m not sure I’ve ever been angry at Ford. And it feels strange and unsettling, but I want to slam my fists against his chest, knowing he’s strong enough to take it.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN
FORD
Amber looks madder than a hockey player in the penalty box. And I don’t know what I said to put that look on her face. I love when her face gets all pink and flushed, but this isn’t a flush. This is something else.
For the first time in our friendship, the fiery temper that rarely comes out—a temper that could only belong to a redhead—is directed at me. And I do not like it.
Amber pushes away from me, scrambling off my lap, so she’s standing and looking down at me. I’ve never felt so small.
She closes her eyes; I think she’s trying to calm herself. Maybe I should offer her the coin in my pocket?
Finally, she opens her eyes. “Ford, I know you’re trying to play peacemaker like you always do, and I love that side of you. That you can deescalate a situation even when your own feelings are running rampant on the inside. But this isn’t the time to make peace. I don’t want you to smooth over the situation. I want you…no, I need you to fight. For me. For Nella.” Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a second, I fear for her heart.
“I know you, Ford Remington, and I know that for some reason, you probably think we’d be better off without you, or that you’re not good enough for us. But that’s ridiculous. Do you seriously believe we wouldn’t choose you?”
Before I can answer she blows out a deep breath, one hand coming to rest on her hip. She looks furious.
My head falls, looking down at my feet. I imagine I look similar to Moose—my old friend—when Mom would yell at him for chewing up her shoes.
“Look at me,” she says, her voice like steel but not unkind. “I want you to pay attention when I say this to you, because I’m not going to repeat myself again.”
