I expected him to head to his Town Car immediately and leave, but instead he waited for me to get out of the car and then walked me up to the doors of my building, his hand on my lower back the whole time.
I tried not to read too much into it. Especially when his gaze dropped down to my lips for half a second. But before I could think about it too much, he pulled me into a good night hug. A friendly, “I love you as much as I’d love a sibling” type hug that only reinforced that I’d made the right choice.
“Thanks for playing along while you could,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Sure,” I said. “No problem. It was fun.”
At least only half of that was a lie.
“I’ll call you,” he said, just like he always did. Guess we really were back to normal.
I headed into the lobby of my building, turning once I got to the elevator to wave at Ford who was still waiting outside. As I watched, he headed to his car, got in the back seat, and then disappeared into the night. It was all over now.
Somehow, I managed to get all the way up to the top floor and inside my loft before the tears began to fall.
I sank to the floor, Munchkin in my lap, sobbing like my heart was breaking.
It wasn’t fair. The whole thing with Ford had been fake all along. So why did this breakup feel so much like the real thing?
Emzee
Chapter 9
Icouldn’t have picked a better setting for ending my fake relationship with Ford than the Investment Ball.
Heads had turned the moment we entered the ballroom, and the first person we’d run into was his delightful Aunt Miri, with whom I’d chatted during the dinner at Travelle.
“You’re glowing,” she had said to me. “I’m so glad you both could make it.” Then she fawned over my dress, complimenting my style so much that I blushed.
Part of the reason I was “glowing” was because of the attention Ford was giving me. Even knowing that this was going to be the end of our charade, that we’d soon go back to being just friends, that this night would be the last time I’d feel the warmth of his hand in mine.
We mingled for a few more minutes, and everyone was pleasant. I had to admit, the event was already going better than I’d anticipated. Ford looked beyond GQ-handsome in his perfectly tailored tux, and for once, I felt evenly matched in my brand-new gown. Considering that this was going to be our last night out together as a “couple,” I’d gone all out, begging my contact at Prada to express mail me one of their latest designs in my exact measurements. It fit like a dream. I felt like one of the models I’d spent my whole life around.
Minus the whole height thing.
It didn’t make sense that I’d ended up so pocket-sized, given that both of my parents were tall. Almost as though all the height in our family had already been distributed to Stefan and Luka before I was even born. But despite it bothering me when I was little, I had to admit that after getting picked on in school, I’d developed a distinct appreciation for being able to blend in a little more easily. To fold in on myself and become invisible when necessary.
But tonight, in this dress, in these heels (also new), Ford couldn’t stop staring at me. And as I sipped a flute of champagne, I was happy to bask in the attention. After all, Cinderella had enjoyed the ball right up until the magic ran out at midnight, too. There was no point in wasting all these dances and drinks anticipating anything other than the joy of whirling around the floor in the arms of Ford Malone.
Tonight, I was going to savor every moment we had together. I wasn’t going to think about tomorrow, when we’d be back to business as usual.
This was my chance to live the dream.
Ford was the perfect date. My champagne glass was never empty, my hand always clasped in his. We danced almost every dance together, and he made me feel like I was the center of his world.
“You are killing it in this dress,” he whispered in my ear as we spun across the dance floor, trailing his fingers up and down my spine until I shivered.
The back of my gown was open and cut low, almost obscenely so, and apparently the bare skin of my back was too enticing for Ford to keep his hands off it. Which I didn’t exactly mind, even though I was far more exposed than I’d usually be comfortable with. But something about this outfit tonight made me feel powerful and confident. Maybe it was the dress, or the fuck-me heels, or having Ford as an accessory on my arm. Probably all of the above.
I didn’t want it to end.
But I knew that it had to.
It was nearing midnight when I noticed Ford’s parents making their overtures to leave. Ford’s father hovered near Mrs. Malone, making little tutting noises while she said her lengthy goodbyes. Mrs. Malone could hold him off for a few more minutes, but not much longer.
I could tell that Ford had noticed as well, judging by the way he stiffened in my arms. We were waltzing when it happened, so I sensed that once the song was over, so was the fairy tale.
We couldn’t put it off any longer.
