6. Ford
CHAPTER 6
Ford
“No,” Harrison says, forcefully. “Absolutely not.”
Ivy and I exchange a look in the backseat. She looks exhausted and I don’t blame her. It’s been a long hot day in the cramped backseat of this car, with Harrison and Liam going at each other most of the time.
The armadillo circus was a bust.
Well, maybe it was amazing, but we never actually found it. If it did exist, it was more off the beaten path than we were willing to search. After several turns into random driveways and Harrison’s GPS glitching, Liam called it and got back on our route headed east.
Harrison can’t let it go and he’s not going to allow Liam to win this next round.
They’re locked in battle over which hotel to stay in and where. Liam wants to push on and drive for another hour or two so we can get to South Carolina as fast as possible, but Harrison is determined to set a leisurely pace with stops at luxury hotels.
“I’m not staying in that ‘motel.’” He even uses air quotes for the word motel as if Liam is suggesting we all sleep in a flop house for the night.
“Can you just compromise?” I demand. “We’re already stopping earlier than Liam wanted.”
“Yes, because we’re not going to just drive past an iconic town like Winslow, Arizona without stopping,” Harrison says, glaring at me from the passenger seat. “We’re going to stand on the corner like any true American.”
“What are you even talking about?” Ivy asks, leaning against the glass window as we’re idling in front of a budget motel Liam has picked for us to spend the night.
I feel really bad for Ivy. After the first few hours of driving, she stopped talking, mostly just fiddling with her phone and gazing out the window. I can’t tell if she’s just tired or if she’s devastated over her canceled wedding or something else entirely. Her mouth is pinched, and she’s kept her enormous sunglasses resolutely on her face.
At least she’s stopped drinking alcohol, and she did nap for a while but I’m still worried about her.
“It’s from a song,” Liam tells her. “It’s old, so you wouldn’t know it.”
It’s a reminder to me that Liam knows Ivy really well. I feel a pang of jealousy that is totally unjustified. He was her best man, or meant to be her best man. Of course they’re close.
“From the early two thousands?” she asks.
“No. The seventies.”
“Oh. Yeah, no, I wouldn’t know it.”
“If you heard it, you would know it,” Harrison assures her. “Let me play it for you.”
Liam turns the car off. “I’m going to check into the hotel.”
“Motel.”
Liam shoots an irritated look at Harrison. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with this hotel. It’s a well-known chain with a highly regarded free continental breakfast. We don’t all have piles of disposable income to blow on fancy hotels for the next week.”
“I’ll stay here with you, Liam,” Ivy says, sitting up a little straighter and reaching down to grab her purse off of the floorboard.
“No,” Harrison says. “Absolutely not. If the starving writer wants to stay here for a free bagel and bedbugs, he can, but I’m getting you a room at a decent hotel. My treat. It’s the least I can do after my former best friend left you with a mess.”
Ivy doesn’t look like she cares one way or the other. “Fine. Thank you. I just need a shower and a bed.”
I shouldn’t envision Ivy in the shower, but I do. All five foot eight inches of her, rivulets of water trailing down her golden skin, over tight breasts right down to her…
I clear my throat and force myself to focus.
God, what the hell is wrong with me?
She’s exhausted and heartbroken, and I’m picturing her naked.
I can’t help it. Being this close to her for hours and hours is fucking with my head. And my dick. I’m aware of every move she makes, from shifting to get more comfortable, to sighing, to flips of her blonde hair back off of her shoulder under that headscarf.
At one point, Liam asked her to take it off because it was blocking his view in the rearview mirror.
She’d said, “Absolutely not. I’m channeling Elizabeth Taylor, who suffered many heartbreaks in her life.”
“Wasn’t she married a dozen times?” Harrison asked. “That’s not really your problem.”
Her answer had been a lifted chin and a withering glare that had actually brought Harrison to a shamed silence, which was no easy feat. He had muttered a hasty, “Sorry,” then went back to tormenting Liam with his musical selections.
Sometimes Harrison speaks before he thinks.
Liam gets out of the car and retrieves his bag from the trunk. Then he opens Ivy’s door and ducks his head in to talk to her. “I’ll see you in the morning. Text me if you need anything. I’ll be five minutes away and I can walk over.”
She nods. “I will. I love you.”
His eyes soften, which sets off alarm bells for me.
“I love you too,” he murmurs and kisses her forehead. When he pulls back, his expression is fierce and intense.
Our eyes lock behind Ivy’s head, and he stares me down defiantly.
Holy shit.
He’s in love with Ivy.
Now I know why Liam has been suspicious of me and Harrison. He has feelings for her himself.
I thought Liam exclusively dated men, but I have no idea why I think that. It’s not like we’re friends and we’ve only met socially a few times. Ivy has never said much to me about him, but I also haven’t spent much time with Ivy off-set or beyond work functions to promote the restaurants and the show.
I’m lost in all my swirling thoughts as Harrison gets out and jogs around to the driver’s side and hops in. He presses the button to restart the car. “Now we can all relax and enjoy ourselves. The grinch is gone.”
“You shouldn’t give him such a hard time,” Ivy snaps. “Liam is hardworking, talented, and always there for me. He’s a great guy.”
Yesterday I would have assumed she was just defending her friend, but after seeing Liam’s expression, I have to wonder if there’s more to it.
Not that it’s any of my business.
But you’ve made it your business.
Because you have fucking feelings for Ivy, you idiot.
My inner voice is annoying, so I say, “I thought you were going to play the Eagles song, Harrison.”
“Thank you for reminding me.” Harrison swipes on his phone and music starts playing through the speakers as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives two minutes down the road to a historic hotel we saw on our way into town.
To call it luxury is a bit of a stretch, but there’s a steakhouse on site and I need to eat. Road snacks are not filling me up. Ivy has spent the day eating like a five-year-old let loose in a gas station with forty bucks. She’s had chips, candy, beef jerky, and some kind of chocolate cake sandwich that looked like it was made from plastic.
As a guy who’s spent my adult life around farm to table restaurants, it’s a little horrifying, but at least it distracted her from the vodka in her Stanley cup. Though any port in a storm, I suppose.
Harrison is singing at the top of his lungs.
Ivy rubs her temples. “I’ve never heard this song in my life.”
“You hungry?” I ask. “Their website said there’s a nice restaurant off the lobby.”
She shakes her head. “I’m going to go to bed.”
“It’s six o’clock,” Harrison protests. “You’ll wake up in the middle of the night if you go to bed now.”
“Not if I finish the vodka.”
I don’t think so. Not on my watch. She may think I’m heavy-handed but I’m not going to let her drink alone in her room.
Harrison seems to notice her shift in tone, because he meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and frowns, but then we’re pulling up to the front entrance of the hotel.
“No valet?” he asks, glancing left and right.
For some reason that makes Ivy giggle, which makes me feel better.
Thirty minutes later, I’m juggling two dinners in to-go boxes and knocking gently on the door to Ivy’s hotel room.
Harrison is eating downstairs in the steakhouse, but I’m worried Ivy hasn’t had enough protein today. I’m also worried that she’s just sitting in a dark room swigging vodka like its water.
When she opens the door, she’s dressed in a tank top and tiny cotton shorts. She isn’t wearing a bra. My mouth waters and it’s not because of the loaded baked potato in the bag in my hand.
Holy Jesus, she’s just so fucking gorgeous.
“Hi,” I manage to say. “I brought you some dinner, in case you’re hungry after all.”
She gives me a smile. “Thanks, Ford. You’re a good guy.”
“Food fixes almost everything,” I tell her. “Or at least it makes it a little bit more tolerable.”
“Come on in,” she says, pulling the door open wider.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
She scoffs. “What? Me spiraling? If you can tolerate my sad girl summer mood, you’re welcome to join me.”
“I can handle sad girl summer. I have three younger sisters.”
That makes her laugh. “Oh God. I can’t even imagine. I was an only child until I was thirteen. Then my mom popped up pregnant with my sister and I cannot even tell you how devastating that was for me.”
I follow her into the room and set the bag on the dinette table. “Wow, that would be a life change after being an only child for so long.”
“Not just that, it was also really embarrassing to be in middle school and have a pregnant mom. No one at that age wants to think that their parents have S-E-X.”
I grin at her. “No. I guess not. How was it after your sister was born?”
Ivy goes over to the dresser and retrieves two bottles of water. “Oh, after she came, it was amazing. She was my little baby doll, and I loved playing with her, feeding her, dressing her. I like to think we’re as close as can be, considering I left for college when she was only four. Are you close to your sisters?”
“As close as you can be when they’re triplets and you’re the older brother.” I open the bag and pull out the two boxes and a foil bag filled with silverware and butter packets.
“ Triplets ? Your poor parents.” Ivy pops open one of the boxes. “Oh, this looks yummy.”
“Yep, triplets. Frannie and Fiona are identical twins and then there’s Finley, who is at law school at Clemson. Frannie and Fiona live in Honeysuckle Harbor and work at our restaurant. They’re both pastry chefs. They definitely have the twin connection.”
“Oh, I met them then at the holiday party! I had no idea they were your sisters.”
I nod, placing a napkin down for her. That party had been pure torture for me. I had watched Brad parading her around the room, introducing her to everyone, peppering kisses all over her at random intervals. He’d shown me the engagement ring he was planning to give her on their upcoming trip to Santa Barbara.
The ring that has been tucked in my pocket since she shoved it at me.
It was also the only time that Ivy had been in Honeysuckle Harbor and somehow we’d both wound up on the back deck of the restaurant, staring out at the water and casually chatting. I think it was the only time I’d ever been alone with Ivy until now, and I had wanted things I knew I could never have.
Now we’re alone again, and there is no Brad in the picture.
But still, the timing is all wrong.
“So…have you talked to Brad?” I ask, since he’s the damn elephant in the room.
I pull out a chair for her and she looks a little startled, but does sit down. “No. I blocked his number, though, so I have no idea if he’s tried to text or call me. But I can’t even imagine what he could possibly say and I feel like any way he tries to explain it is just going to make me feel worse.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s not enough, but it is sincere.
I sit down across from her.
Ivy shrugs and opens a butter packet. She spreads it liberally on the dinner roll in the takeout box. “Thank you. But it’s weird. I feel like I should be more upset than I am. I’m angry. I’m embarrassed. I’m questioning everything about the last year of my life. But I’m not devastated. My heart isn’t broken and I think that’s very telling. I should be in a puddle on the floor, don’t you think?”
“I think everyone handles tough situations differently. But I’m glad you’re not crying on the floor. That would break my heart.” I cut my steak and take a bite. “This isn’t bad.”
She laughs a little. “You were expecting it would be?”
I shrug, a little embarrassed. “I’ve become a food snob. I can’t deny it.”
“Because Brad’s an incredible chef.” She doesn’t pose it as a question. We both know it’s a fact.
“He is. But he’s also a dick.”
“Yes, he is.” Ivy lifts a water bottle. “A toast. To the universe stopping me from marrying the wrong man.”
I’ll definitely toast to that. I raise my own water bottle. “To new beginnings.”
“To getting there without Liam and Harrison strangling each other.”
“To fast cars and a hot real estate market.”
“Yes. To a quick sale of the house I’ve never even seen because Brad bought it without talking to me about it.”
I wince. What a prick. I feel worse and worse about being friends with him. “Yes. Definitely toast to that.”
We click our plastic bottles together, then both take a sip. We eat silently for a few minutes, but it’s comfortable between us. Ivy is mostly focused on the baked potato, but at least it’s not fake food.
“I feel like I don’t know anything about you, Ford,” she says. “Have you ever been married?”
I swallow the bite in my mouth, surprised at the unexpected question. “No. I believe in marriage, though. I just haven’t met the right woman.”
Though the night I met Ivy, I’d thought I had. For three beautiful minutes when we’d been introduced, it was love at first sight for me. Then she’d been whisked away by a production assistant to meet Brad and that had been that.
“Are you a romantic?”
“I am. I’m also loyal.”
She fiddles with her fork, dragging it through the potato. “With a strong moral compass.”
“I like to think so.”
“Have you been in love?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think I have either.”
That shocks me a little. “No?”
Ivy looks up from her plate. “I thought I was. But I think if I had really been in love, I would be more upset. I think I got caught up in the whole “it looks good on paper.” It worked at first and we were happy—at least I was—and we just sort of fast tracked the whole relationship. I may have been drunk last night but I was right about ignoring red flags. Granted, they were subtle, not huge like I claimed, but I’m so mad at myself for that.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ve all done that. I ignored the huge red flags that Harrison and Liam can’t be in a car all day together.”
Ivy laughs. “I think that’s called sexual tension.”
“Oh, is that what it is? I thought it was bitter resentment,” I joke with a smile.
Raising her fork, she licks the tines with the tip of her tongue and I fight the urge to groan. I want to kiss her with every fiber of my fucking being.
If she had any idea the thoughts running through my head…
Strong moral compass, strong moral compass.
“What’s in the minibar?” I ask.