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Six weeks ago, we married in a small ceremony at an ancient church near my grandparents’ house in Tarrytown. Holly was my maid of honor. She’s since come around to Ford and cheerfully acknowledges that he treats me far better than any man she’s ever known.
There’s nothing wrong with a man who works with his hands. If you have an open mind and give them a try, you may learn they really know how to use them on any given occasion.
“How’s my little bird? You’re not feeling sick, are you?” Ford approaches with a kiss and places his massive hand on my nonexistent belly. He stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, playfully rocking me left and right.
“No, I’m good.” I tilt my head back and look into his warm brown eyes, hopelessly in love with my husband.
Ford’s the sweetest person I’ve ever known. He’s loving, caring, protective, intelligent, and hardworking. I trust him enough to share my life and be the father of my children. I trust him with my heart.
Ford leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, little bird. Are you happy?”
“I couldn’t be happier, my love. I adore you.” I reach behind me and run my hand through his beard, scratching his chin the way he likes. “Are you happy?”
“I have been in a constant state of joy since we met. You’ve made me so happy that you’ve washed away the sadness I carried for years. I couldn’t live without you because I didn’t really start living until you came along.” His words bring a happy tear to my eye.
“Darling, did your father call you?” Nana interrupts our moment with the last thing I thought I’d hear.
My parents didn’t attend my wedding. They’ve never met Ford. If they’ve been in the country all year, they certainly haven’t shared that information with me.
I stare at my nana, confused that she’d ask a question like that. “Of course, I haven’t.”
“That little liar,” she gripes, shaking her clenched fist at the phone. “My son is currently on hold, asking if he and your mother can come home for Christmas. They’re stuck in Morocco, living like paupers because your grandfather refused to send them money. I told him he could kiss my ass, but he insists you spoke and wanted him back for the holidays.”
More confusion sets in. “He did what?”
“That’s what I thought. Your grandfather cut him off six weeks ago when he didn’t attend your wedding, and he’s apparently run out of the last cash injection we sent him. The only thing I’m going to give that ungrateful boy is a piece of my mind,” she huffs, spins in her heels, and marches back to the phone.
Ford bends forward to whisper in my ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to see them? All you need to do is tell your grandmother you do, and she’ll fly them home. I don’t want you to regret not seeing your family.”
I know why he’s asking. There are only so many times you can say that something doesn’t bother you before the person who loves you sees right through you.
I shake my head and kiss his cheek, closing my eyes as I whisper, “My family is in this room. The only other family I need is the one we make.”
Ford sighs and tightens his grip on my waist. “That’s right, little bird. From now on, we get to write our own story.”
The End
