“Where’d the Le Comte go?” I asked suspiciously, eyes darting around as if I expected the thing to jump out at me from behind a piece of furniture.
“I had it moved into storage. I thought we could find something new to go there,” he said.
I stood there for a minute, tongue-tied. This was the last thing I had expected to come home to. “But—I thought you loved the way your apartment looked before,” I sputtered.
“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “I was never that into Claudia’s style. Too flashy.”
Well. That was confusing. Especially since, just a few weeks ago, he had fought so hard to keep everything the way it had been. I didn’t understand. What the hell did it all mean? Was he finally getting over Claudia? Or had he simply argued with me before because he was stubborn and hated the idea of change? Which…if that was the case, why redecoratenow?
I opened my mouth to ask Ford what had gotten into him, but then closed it again. I didn’t want to question things too much—I was happy enough that the changes were happening. And that I wouldn’t hate my surroundings anymore.
“You’re welcome to add your own touch,” he told me. “This is just a start. I know you like soothing colors and less…man stuff.”
Although I wanted to jump right on that, I refrained.
“Honestly,” I told him, “I really appreciate the changes, but I’m only here for a year, you know? This is really nice, though. Thank you.”
Was it just my imagination, or did Ford seem to visibly deflate at the reminder of our expiration date? But no. Couldn’t be. The one year time limit had always beenhisidea.
“No problem,” he said, and whatever it was that I thought I’d seen in his eyes, it was now gone. Looking down at his fancy watch, he added, “You do need to hurry up and get changed—we have reservations.”
“Umm, for what?” I asked, my anxiety kicking into high gear.
Had I forgotten about another of Ford’s obligatory work events, or worse—a dinner with his parents?
“Dinner,” Ford said. “I thought it would be nice to take you out on a date. That’s what newlyweds do, right?”
“What kind of dinner?” I asked slyly, though behind my teasing tone, I had a case of the warm fuzzies. Ford was taking me on a date—a real date.
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “Can we be out the door in thirty minutes or less?”
“Depends,” I said. “Is it a fancy surprise? Or a jeans-and-T-shirt surprise?”
“Probably not jeans. But not so fancy that you need to wear a ball gown either.”
I laughed. “This tells me nothing, and yes, I can swing it.”
“Here.” Ford held out his arms. “I’ll take Munch for a walk while you get ready.”
I practically swooned.Thiswas the Ford Malone I’d crushed on for so many years.
While the boys were gone, I excitedly got ready. I scrunched a little product in my hair to give myself voluminous, beachy waves, touched up my eyeliner, powdered my nose, and then turned the glam up to eleven with my favorite (but rarely-called-for) red lipstick. Vavoom.
When it came to my dress, I wanted something appropriately date-worthy, so I slipped into a vintage cocktail dress I’d been saving for a special occasion. It had sheer fabric along the neckline, a short tiered skirt, and looked perfect with my siren red kitten heels.
I still had no idea what had gotten into Ford.
Maybe he’d realized how ridiculous he’d been about the Andrew Apellido thing. Or how much it sucked for me to be living in an apartment that was a shrine to his ex-girlfriend. No matter the reason, I was just grateful that things seemed to be changing. For the better.
The date was much sweeter than I expected. Ford took me to an upscale fondue restaurant where we started our evening dipping various breads and veggies into various bowls of melty, artisanal cheeses. Raclette, Emmenthaler, mascarpone, Gruyère—I was practically moaning with every bite. It was heavenly. Also fun and a little messy, and I couldn’t stop giggling as Ford kept losing his forkfuls of food in the bubbling bowls of cheese.
We were also served a salad course and a round of delectable small plates including crispy brussels sprouts, potstickers, and Castelvetrano olives. It was all delicious and the restaurant itself was cozy and romantic, giving off almost an English library vibe with its candlelight and dark patterned wallpaper.
I was ready to burst by the time dessert came, but I couldn’t say no to the melted chocolate fountain and the plump, red strawberries that accompanied it. And I especially couldn’t say no when Ford dipped the largest berry in the chocolate and held it out for me to eat.
After dinner, we walked to a nearby gallery that Ford had chosen. It was a new venue, one I hadn’t even heard about yet.
When we walked through the doors, I blurted out an, “Oh my God.”
