“Did you see the Bohlins?” he asked with a smirk. “They’re having a massive fight over by the ice sculpture.”
“Which one?” I asked, not really caring.
“The swan.” Ford put his hand on my shoulder—the bare one—and turned me in the direction of the quarreling couple.
I did my best not to shiver at his touch.
“One hundred bucks, Mr. B gets stabbed with the swan’s beak before the end of the evening. I think it’s something to do with the au pair.”
“Their British nanny?” Even though I was annoyed with him, I couldn’t help smiling.
“That’s the one. I’m going to get another drink,” Ford said.
His glass was somehow empty already, but so was mine.
“I’ll get us both a refill,” he said, plucking my glass from my fingers.
I didn’t need another drink and I really didn’t want Ford to abandon me again, but he was gone before I could stop him. Watching him get joyfully waylaid by some friends, I realized he might be gone for a long time. Well. I couldn’t really be mad at him. We weren’t here together on an actual date or anything, so there was no need for him to stay glued to my side.
But that didn’t mean I had to keep torturing myself like this.
No more, I told myself.You can’t keep being his second-string, doing him favors like this left and right. This is the last time.
After tonight, I would have a talk with him. I’d make it clear that we needed to have better boundaries in our friendship, so it involved less of me being constantly at his beck and call and more of a 50-50 thing. I wouldn’t keep running to him at the drop of a hat.
Suddenly, though, Ford was next to me again. He didn’t have anything in his hand, so something must have happened on his way to the bar. It didn’t take long to realize what that was.
His mother, trailed by two of his gossipy aunts and some family friends, was bee-lining straight for us.
“Shit,” he said under his breath, before turning on the charming smile I knew so well. “Mother,” he said smoothly as she approached. “Happy Birthday. You look gorgeous.”
“Happy Birthday, Mrs. Malone,” I chimed in.
She ignored me, leaning forward to allow Ford to bestow a kiss on either cheek.
“Goodness, Ford darling, where’s Claudia?” she asked, blinking innocently after making sure to give me a disapproving once-over.
Ford sighed. “Mom,” he said. “I’ve told you a hundred times, we broke up.”
“Did you?” she asked. “I must have forgotten.”
I held back an eye roll at the blatant lie.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Malone turned to her other family members. “Oh, to be young again,” she said. “Don’t you remember all the romantic theatrics we put our parents through?”
“It’s not theatrics,” Ford said.
“Well, of course you’dtellyourselves that, but it doesn’t mean it’s truly over.” His mother pouted, quite the feat for someone who’d had as much plastic surgery as her.
“Please, stop,” Ford said. “Claudia and I are finished. I’m over her and I’ve moved on with my life. I suggest you do the same.”
I felt Ford moving closer to me. This was where the protecting came in—if Mrs. Malone didn’t let up, it would be my job to make up an excuse and politely drag Ford away with me.
“Moved on?” Ford’s mother repeated, her eyes narrowing.
“That’s what I said,” he told her.
And then suddenly, his arm wrapped tight around my waist, and I was being pulled hard against his lean, muscular body.
