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My life can now be marked by two very distinct periods of time.
Before Ford.
And after.
I’m just not sure how to survive the after part.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Carina
The sun sits high in the sky as I pull the BMW up the long stretch of driveway and park near the front door. Relief leaks from my lungs as I scan the weather brick drive and find my mother’s Audi absent. Although, three other cars are parked off to the side.
Since it’s the middle of the week, I imagine aides are working on Crawford’s political strategy. He’s usually surrounded by five or six at all times.
Unless Pamela is around.
I cut the engine, grab the takeout bag I picked up and slide from the vehicle before walking up the front stairs to the door. For the first six months I lived here, I couldn’t stop myself from pressing the doorbell. Finally, Crawford sat me down and told me that it wasn’t necessary. That this house was as much mine as his. He never failed to make me feel welcome.
My belly churns with nerves as I turn the silver handle and step inside the grand foyer. Even though the place was professionally decorated years ago, there’s a warmth to the interior that makes me feel instantly at home.
This is the first time we’ve seen each other since the incident. That’s what I’ve dubbed it in my head.
I’m fully expecting this convo to be awkward.
How could it not be?
But I can’t allow this situation to linger between us. This issue needs to be hashed out and resolved. Not talking to Crawford has left a huge hole in my life just as it has with his son. If I can’t fix my relationship with Ford, the least I can do is smooth over the one with his father.
I can also make sure they’re back on track. I can take the brunt of the responsibility for what happened. Whatever I have to do to make everything right between them, I’ll do it.
Conversation from Crawford’s home office spills out to the entryway. Voices talk over one another, jockeying for top position. I should have expected that he’d be busy.
Maybe this impromptu visit wasn’t such a great idea after all. The last thing I want to do is interrupt. I’ll drop the food off in the kitchen, and he can dig in when he has time.
Just as I swivel toward the back of the house, a deep voice halts me in my tracks.
“Carina?”
I glance over my shoulder and find Crawford standing in the office doorway.
“What are you doing here?” Before I can respond, concern floods his expression. “Is everything all right? You never pop home during the middle of the day.”
I force a smile. “Sorry about that. I probably should have called first to see if you were busy.”
His gaze falls to the large paper bag in my hand. “You brought lunch?”
“Yup. But I can leave it on the counter for later.” I glance toward the room behind him that continues to burst with voices. “There’s more than enough to feed at least five people. You can have a working lunch if you’d like.”
“That was very thoughtful.” He glances at the chunky silver Rolex wrapped around his left wrist. “We’ve been at it for a couple of hours already. Now seems like the perfect time to take a much-needed break. They can run out and grab something and we’ll enjoy the,” he pauses to sniff the air, “Chinese, if I’m not mistaken.”
A smile lifts the corners of my lips. “Yup. Spring rolls, pork dumplings, chicken fried rice, and kung pao chicken. There’s plenty. I really don’t mind sharing with your staff.”
He waves a hand. “Nah. They can fend for themselves this afternoon.”
Ten minutes later, we’ve set up our food on the glass table in the kitchen that overlooks the backyard. The pretty view never fails to soothe my soul when something’s bothering me.
Or maybe that’s just this place.
