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“Stubborn as ever.”
“Hard working, you mean.”
“That’s always been a given for you, Eva. Overachiever extraordinaire, with a side of free spiritedness to go with it.”
“Pot, meet kettle. Minus the fun free spirited part.”
“I know, I know. Guilty as charged. But I’m in recovery.”
“Good for you.”
“So what about life outside work?” He’s sliding his hands shyly into his pockets, trying to look nonchalant. It’s cute. “Significant other? Kids?”
“No significant other, and no kids. I’m plenty busy otherwise. I write, I cook, I do a lot of kickboxing—helps with the anxiety.” I cut him a glance. “What about you? How are things?”
Ford lets out a breath. “Crazy. Good. Crazy good. I’m not seeing anyone—”
“Hey y’all!” Gracie appears at my side, looping her arm through mine. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or annoyed by the intrusion. I want to be relieved. Ford has reeled me in before with this whole I-love-that-you’re-so-different-act, and we all know how that ended up. “Sorry to pull y’all away, but Ford, your mom and dad just arrived, and they have a whole trunkful of presents we need help carrying inside.”
Ford nods, holding out his arm. “Happy to help. After y’all.”
My face grows hot at the feel of his gaze on my back as we head out to the parking lot.
Ford’s parents, Eliza and Monty, smile at us from the open trunk of their SUV. My chest lights up at the warm familiarity of their faces.
“My goodness, is that you, Eva Lacy?” Eliza asks.
Grinning, I step into her open arms. “It’s great to see you, Eliza. Congrats on the impending arrival of your new grandbaby.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. We couldn’t be more excited.” She gives me a tight hug before stepping back, hands on my upper arms. She gives them a squeeze, eyes on mine. “We’ve missed you. Grey told us that you and Julia were friends—Monty and I were secretly hoping you’d be here today.”
“Not so secretly hoping, in my case,” Monty adds, arms full with brightly colored gift bags. He presses a kiss to my cheek. “Please tell me you’re back in Charleston for good.”
“Dad,” Ford groans, even as a smile twitches at the edges of his mouth. “Seriously, y’all have no chill.”
“I don’t rightly know what chill is, and I don’t care.” Monty’s still beaming at me. “I’ll find you inside, Eva. I can’t wait to hear about all the incredible things I’m sure you’ve been up to since we saw you last.”
My stomach lurches—a few incredible things to report here, but they’re currently being overshadowed by a horrible bout of writer’s block—but I give Monty a smile anyway.
“I’d like that.”
“Y’all don’t forget to include me in that conversation,” Eliza says. “Don’t you dare keep Eva all to yourself.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
Monty leans in and kisses his wife. He smiles. She smiles.
My heart lifts at the adoration—the respect—they so clearly have for each other. Pretty much night and day from my own parents’ relationship.
A voice inside my head says See? Not all marriages end up resentful and unhappy, and parenthood is not a trap for everyone.
But then I think about my mom. Stuck. Buried beneath the weight of her obligations to my dad. To us.
Another voice tells me having a family of my own is not worth the risk. My parents never set out to end up the way they did. And yet it happened anyway.
Still, I loved Ford’s family. Loved them. And they loved me right back.
They’re not perfect. No family is. But I always admired how happy Monty and Eliza seemed to be together. Their relationship was—is—functional, respectful, loving. No doubt it’s the product of years of hard work. Whatever the case, theirs is clearly turning out be a happy ending.
I always told Ford how envious I was that he didn’t have to worry about his parents. That he didn’t have to take care of them because they took care of each other.
I can only imagine how freeing that must be.
Monty moves past us in a crinkle of tissue paper. I’m reaching inside the trunk for a large package wrapped in silver paper when my eyes catch on the car seat in front of it. I can just glimpse the top of a small head of brown hair, capped with a single hot pink bow.
I watch Ford open the passenger side door, pulse beginning to pound.
“There you are!” He unbuckles the little girl from the carseat and lifts her into his arms with a groan. “I missed you. Were you a good girl for Grandma and Grandpa?”
I can’t help it. I lean to the left so I can see around the car. Ford is standing beside the door, the little girl slung easily on his hip.
She’s got sharp brown eyes and a dimple in her chin.
She’s beautiful.
“I was the best,” she replies, looping her arms around his neck.
