6. Ford
6
Ford
I ’m kicking myself as we walk into the kitchen. What the hell is wrong with me? Not only did I just tell Blair how good she looks, but I let myself get caught off guard by her question.
No, I don’t like Pete. He’s a pretentious know-it-all with a superiority complex. It’s just not my style to tell someone that I dislike their significant other. I hated how obvious it’d been back in the day when Blair and Ronnie openly disliked Jenny, and while I now realize it may have been for good reason, I still don’t want to do it back to either of them.
I fucking hate Max Storm, and while that guy is a million times worse than Pete, I’ve never shit-talked him to Blair—it only seems fair that I give Ronnie the same level of treatment and respect.
Okay, so maybe Blair was right. Jenny and I weren’t right for each other, which is made even more blatantly obvious given our current separation and impending divorce, but that was my decision and my mistake to make. If Pete ends up being a mistake for Ronnie, then it’s her choice to make as well.
Plus, they do often say opposites attract, so while Ronnie and Pete have never made the most sense to me, it doesn’t matter. If Ronnie says he’s the one, then I have to believe her. As her best friend, my only job is to be there for her through the good and the bad.
“So, I see they weren’t lying when they said you never show up on time,” Pete starts, calling Blair out as soon as we walk into the kitchen.
Pete clearly spared no expense when he had this place built. While it feels a bit cold and sterile for my liking, it must be exactly how he wanted it. The amount of white in this kitchen and the rest of the house is a little overwhelming and a bit too much for me, but he seems to like it, given his choice of white cabinets, backsplash, and countertops. The only thing that seems to break the monotony are the silver appliances. I just have to hope or assume that Ronnie will add her own artistic flair and creative touch when she moves in after the wedding.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as Pete wipes his hand on his “Kiss the Cook” apron before moving to offer Blair a handshake.
“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad,” she defends, seeming to play along as she gives him her hand while I set the veggie tray on the counter next to the wide array of food that’s been prepared for our small barbecue. There’s no way the four of us can eat all of this, but it doesn’t come as a surprise that Pete has gone above and beyond. In fact, showing off has always seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes. “If this was old me, I would have been a good thirty minutes late. Five minutes is a clear improvement,” she adds with a small laugh.
“Look at you growing up,” I tack on, needing to defend her a bit. While it’s okay for me and Ronnie to poke fun at her inability to ever be on time, it’s not okay for Pete to do it.
“Well, you know me. I’ve always been on Blair Standard Time, so if anything, you all should be glad that it’s gotten closer to the actual time,” she plays along, sending a beautiful grin my way. My pulse quickens, and an annoying jolt of electricity zings down my spine. I hate how she can still send my entire body into complete disarray, all from a simple smile.
“Oh yes, I’ll never forget BST,” Ronnie laughs as she places the other tray on the granite countertop.
“Well, you know what they say; being on time is the first step to being respected; it shows you value not just your time, but the time of others,” Pete says, clearly not joining in on the joke or the fun. My lips fall into a narrow line.
Blair’s jaw flexes before her eyes harden in his direction. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting to be rebuked or called out, but luckily, Ronnie has her back and swiftly smacks Pete in the arm.
“Pete! Be nice,” she scolds, and while there’s still a smile on her face, I’m sure we all know her well enough to hear the warning in her tone. “Blair’s the best, and I will not accept any slander on her name whatsoever,” she adds, pointing a finger in his direction.
“Well, maybe he isn’t totally wrong. I could make more of an effort. I don’t want anybody thinking I don’t respect the time of others,” Blair says, her voice dripping with overly sweet sarcasm, clearly annoyed by being called out by this guy, despite the actual words coming out of her mouth.
“Don’t sweat it, Blair. Those who actually know you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ve done nothing wrong and have nothing to prove here. Plus, you know what they say: don’t make assumptions because it only makes an ass out of you and me,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I’m not normally an antagonistic person, but nobody gets to call out my friends like that, especially not some prick like Pete.
Our friendship may be strained, but as Blair flashes me a smile that’s equal parts amusement and gratitude, I have no regrets. Even if Pete was the type of guy who reacted with violence and chose to take out his anger on me, I’d do it all over again. Especially if it means I get to catch another glimpse of that perfect smile of hers—the kind of smile that feels like a burst of sunshine on a cloudy day—and these days, given what I have going on in my life, that’s very much needed.
“On that note, let’s eat,” Ronnie cuts in before Pete can say anything else, which is probably for the best.
It might seem like I’m looking for a fight, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Like Ronnie, all I want is for everyone to be happy and get along. I’d love nothing more than to be wrong about Pete, and I’d love for Blair to see a side of our friend’s fiancé that I’ve yet to see, putting all my concerns to rest.
“Yes, I’m starving,” Blair agrees, looking my way one last time, that same mesmerizing grin of hers offering a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight won’t be as terrible as I thought it’d be. Sure, we’re going to be eating and hanging out with one of my least favorite people, but if Blair keeps looking at me like that, maybe things won’t be entirely insufferable.
“This cheesecake is amazing,” Blair coos as we get started on dessert, her eyes drifting back in ecstasy, a move that has me thinking way too many dirty thoughts. I shift in my seat as I wonder what exactly I’d have to do for her to make that face again, but hopefully for an entirely different reason.
“Well, we have Pete to thank for that.” Ronnie smiles, placing a hand on her fiancé’s shoulder. Thankfully, he has cooled it with his asshole-type commentary.
Okay, maybe not completely, since he’s spent the majority of the night talking about himself and all of his accomplishments, leaving little room for anyone else to speak. I mean, how many times do we have to listen to him ramble on about how he’s the youngest councilman in town history and how he plans to one day take over as mayor? At least it makes it much easier to keep control of myself and my wandering brain, since every time he speaks, it's the equivalent of a bucket of cold water being dumped all over you.
It could be that I already dislike the hell out of him, and maybe he isn’t as bad as I’ve been leading myself to believe, but with each stolen glance in Blair’s direction, it’s obvious we’re on the same page, as her eyes look completely glazed over, making me feel less alone in my line of thinking.
“In fact, Pete is responsible for most of this dinner. He’s such an amazing cook, right?” Ronnie continues, her eyes filled with pure adoration as she looks toward her fiancé.
“Well, I’ve sort of been forced to take over that role since Veronica here is a disaster in the kitchen,” Pete says, placing his arm around her shoulder. “I don’t think she’s made one meal that hasn’t been burned or undercooked,” Pete chuckles, his voice tinged with an annoying amount of condescension. “But don’t worry. I’ve already got your next birthday present planned out—cooking classes.” I’m sure he expected us to laugh along with him, but instead, his “joke” falls completely flat.
“I hope you’re kidding, because that’s the last thing Ronnie would want as a birthday present,” Blair states, devoid of any and all amusement.
“Not at all. I think it’s the perfect present for her. Don’t you think, babe?” he asks, as we all glance in Ronnie’s direction.
“I’ll be happy with whatever you decide to get me,” she answers as I cock an eyebrow. I get not wanting to cause any trouble, but normally Ronnie isn’t afraid to voice her true opinion, and I have to say, I’m with Blair on this one. There’s no way that’d be something she’d enjoy.
“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to get you something extra special this year. Something I know you’ll actually want,” Blair counters.
“Oh hush,” Ronnie brushes her off as she swats her hand toward Blair. “I’m honestly not that picky. Maybe I would enjoy learning some culinary skills. Cooking is an art, after all, so maybe a lesson or two could be kind of fun.”
“Oh, babe, it’s definitely going to take more than a lesson or two to get you to where you need to be,” Pete cuts in. My hands ball into fists in my lap. Despite my efforts to see the good in him, he’s making it extremely challenging to find even the slightest redeeming quality.
“Maybe you just don’t know your fiancé as well as you think you do, because if anybody can do something they set their mind to, it’s Ronnie,” I say, folding my arms. “If she wants to be a good cook, then she’ll do it. She’s a beast at everything she tries.”
“I’ll believe it only when I see it,” Pete says with an obnoxious chuckle, rolling his eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that none of us find this even remotely funny.
“That’s too bad because—” Blair starts to say, but Ronnie stands up, interrupting before she can complete that thought, which may be for the best, given the way her icy-blue eyes are blazing in his direction.
“Let’s take some of this inside. Pete, can you help me bring in some of the dishes?” she asks, reaching for his hand as she not-so-gently pulls him up.
Despite his lack of enthusiasm and clear annoyance, he seems to decide not to fight her on this. “Yeah, sure,” he gives in, reaching for an empty plate.
In silence, we hand over our dishes, before Blair reaches for the open bottle of wine and proceeds to pour herself another glass. “So,” she says, after lifting it to her lips once Ronnie and Pete are inside and out of earshot, “he’s an ass, right? It’s not just me being overprotective?”
“No, it’s not just you. He’s definitely an ass.”
“Damn. I hate this for her,” she sighs, setting her glass down on the table. “I want to be supportive, and I want to like him, but I don’t. I’m actually worried that if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to end up saying something I’ll eventually regret.”
“You don’t think it’s too early to dip out?” I ask, looking through the glass door to make sure they’re still out of earshot. I’m not surprised it’s taking a while. I have to imagine that Ronnie is inside giving him a piece of her mind, or at least that’s what the old Ronnie would’ve done.
“I hope not. I mean, we did dinner and dessert. That should be good enough, right? Because if not, I think I’m going to get myself kicked out of the wedding party,” she laughs, despite the fact that there is little to no amusement in the sound.
“Ronnie would never kick you out, but I get it. I’m starting to lose my patience with him, too.”
“We’re back,” Ronnie calls as she and Pete walk into the backyard hand-in-hand. I want to believe it’s a good thing that they seem to be okay, and that there doesn’t seem to be any lingering tension between the two of them. Still, it’s incredibly hard to be happy for the couple when I still can’t make sense of what she sees in him.
Ronnie has dated plenty off-and-on throughout the years. Some guys were absolutely great and balanced her out really well, and some were complete duds, but at this point, I’d take the biggest dud over Pete fucking West.
“Actually, Ford here was just offering to give me a ride home. I’m starting to feel a bit guilty over not spending enough time with Miles. Instead of having my brother come and pick me up, yet again, I figured I’d surprise him.”
I’m not sure her thought process on this was entirely on point, since if she wanted more time with her brother, it would make sense for him to pick her up, but I’m thankful that her excuse includes me as well.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I understand.” Ronnie nods, though a small pout forms on her face. “I guess I can’t completely monopolize your time at home.”
“And hey, we still have our fittings tomorrow, so I’ll see you as soon as you’re off work,” Blair offers, doing her best to make up for our quick escape.
“Yes, definitely.” Ronnie attempts to smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I should feel bad, and I suppose I do, but more than anything, the prevailing feeling taking over is relief as we all stand up, give hugs, and say our goodbyes. I can’t pretend for even a single second longer that Pete West is even close to being a likable guy. The only decent thing about him is his cooking, and that’s not saying much.
However, as Blair and I make our exit, and it’s just the two of us walking toward my car, I realize that I’m about to be alone with her for the first time since she confessed her feelings toward me right before my wedding. Instead of relief, I’m now consumed by unadulterated panic. What in the hell did I just willingly walk myself into?