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“I have a social life.”
“You spend most of your nights creating formulas and researching.”
“Can we move on?”
“So, to recap, you’ve moved into a townhome occupied by two men.”
“It’s a temporary stay with two men who are a committed couple, and I’m taking care of the dog.”
“You’re the new face of Fire Station 26 on Instagram.”
“Hardly, it’s a few pictures with Pepper.”
“A few pictures that speak volumes. That pup is precious, but you seem to be the center of attention.”
“Are you on Instagram now?”
“Yes, checking it out. The guy with the dimples is cute.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” This is a lie because most of the men are good-looking, but none of them hold a flame to Ford.
“Mmhmm, I can guess why. "
There’s an uptick in her voice that causes a twist in my gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mother’s intuition.”
“What is clairvoyance telling you?”
“That spontaneity looks stunning on you.”
“Mom—”
“After you broke up with Craig, we knew something was off. We should have pressed harder to get you to open up. But you seemed to move on, were making friends, accepting changes, and excelling in your way. After what happened, I have been scared to death he did irreparable damage, and praying with everything in my soul for you to find happiness. The woman in these pictures is beautiful. The smile is genuine, the glow is there.”
“You picked up all that from a few snapshots?”
“A few snapshots and one very specific picture taken at nine-fifteen this morning with Ford Whitman standing to the side watching you like he’s ready to crush skulls.”
“WHAT!?!” I stop walking, jerking Pepper back and pulling up the station’s page.
She’s right, Ford is almost out of the shot, but his eyes are trained on me, his face hard as stone with a fierce intensity.
“It’s nothing. He’s been helping me exercise the dog in the mornings.”
“Sure,” she draws out.
“Really, he’s been working nights and jogging in the mornings with her.”
After our dinner on Monday night, Ford went to work with the promise to be back in the morning. For the last two days, he’s shown up at nine a.m. to join us.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Trust me on this, a mother knows.”
“No, really, don’t—”
The words die because, out of the corner of my eye, I catch the shiny black truck parked in front of the townhome.
Then all the breath leaves my lungs.
