9. Ford
9
Ford
I hadn’t expected much this afternoon after I finally mustered the courage to send the text during my prep period, asking Blair to meet me for coffee after work. Honestly, I partially assumed it would be a repeat of the past two years where she’s ghosted me on every single call or text.
Clearly, I’d panicked for nothing, but can you really blame me for worrying, especially after yesterday? It’d be pretty easy to assume I’d somehow ruined our friendship all over again. It feels like my specialty these days.
She doesn’t trust me, and I get it. Given the circumstances in high school, it always felt like we were caught in a never-ending cycle of bad timing and uncertain feelings. Whenever she was single, Jenny and I were together, and whenever we had one of our occasional break-ups, Blair was taken.
The final nail in the coffin seemed to be when Jenny showed up on our senior trip to the Rocky Mountain Meltdown Music Festival just after Blair and I had finally shared our first kiss. I’d desperately wanted to confess my feelings and tell her it was her I wanted, but she distanced herself and devoted most of her attention to Max, whom she met the first day of the music festival.
Meanwhile, Jenny was constantly by my side, trying to win me back. Eventually, I gave in. If Blair wanted somebody else, I wasn’t going to stop her. Making something happen shouldn’t be that hard, or so I naively let myself believe. I was tired of fighting for something she didn’t seem to want. It was painfully exhausting, and something I could no longer do to myself, or to Blair. It wasn’t fair to put pressure on her when I was so sure she was no longer the one.
There was even a part of me that’d wanted to run away with Blair after her confession on my wedding day. I wanted to give myself permission to be with the woman I’d always wanted and been in love with, but I just hadn’t been brave enough to do it. Not only could I not do that to Jenny, our friends, and family, but it also didn’t feel fair to Blair. She shouldn’t have had to be the woman who asked a guy to choose her. The man who truly deserved her would always make her his first priority, and given how long I’d waited, that no longer felt like me. I wasn’t worthy of being with someone as perfect as Blair.
When she’d arrived back in town the other day, and I’d found out she and Max had broken up, a part of me selfishly wanted this to be our moment, but I also don’t want anyone, especially Blair, to get the wrong idea.
I’m sure people would assume she’s just the rebound woman, or say it’s too soon and that I’m not ready to move on, and maybe I wouldn’t be for anybody else, but this is Blair. She’s the person I’ve secretly been in love with since the sixth grade.
Even worse, I feel like a creep who took advantage of her in the dressing room. In the moment, sure, it felt like she was just as into it as I was, but I don’t want her thinking that’s all I want from her, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. With Blair Bennett, I want everything.
Either way, I felt a rush of relief when she immediately replied, agreeing to meet. Getting together in person gives me the chance to apologize, but there’s an even more important and pressing reason we need to meet—Ronnie.
Walking inside The Steamy Bean, I’m not surprised that Blair isn’t here. While we joked about Blair always being late at the barbecue the other night, it tends to ring true.
Approaching the counter, I order my typical black Americano and their signature pecan muffin.
“Is that everything?” Buddy, the barista, and the owner’s son, asks.
I hesitate. I know Blair’s usual order, and while it was unchanged throughout our teenage years and into adulthood on her occasional trip home, I get that it’s been two years. There’s always a chance she’s changed and might want something different now.
After yesterday, do I really want to cause any waves or overstep? Then again, it’s a fucking cup of coffee. Is it really that big of a deal?
“No, I’ll also get an iced caramel macchiato and throw in one of those white chocolate chip raspberry muffins.” If she doesn’t want it, that’s fine, but at least I’ll have made the effort.
“Jenny trying something new?” Buddy asks as my stomach sinks. Of course, he’s used to me ordering Jenny something, too, especially since this is my go-to stop after work. However, since our separation, I’ve only been picking up my order, but I can’t imagine he’d be all that surprised if I started doing it again.
While I know there have been some rumors about Jenny and me, the gossip train strangely hasn’t seemed to reach The Steamy Bean, something I’m more than grateful for, but I’m pretty sure that won’t last long after today.
“No, this drink is for an old friend,” I explain as he nods in response, thankfully not seeming to read too much into it.
“Gotcha, well just give me a few minutes and I’ll call out your order.”
I thank him just as the door opens. I don’t even have to turn my head to know it’s Blair. My body seems to sense it and know all on its own.
“Hey.” She smiles, greeting me with a small wave. “Have you ordered yet?”
“Yep. I got you something too. He just started, so if you don’t still drink iced caramel macchiatos, we might be able to stop him before he gets to it,” I suggest, glancing toward Buddy, who thankfully seems to have only started on mine.
Her lips curve into a gradual smile. “A caramel macchiato is perfect. Did you also order the…”
“The white chocolate chip raspberry muffin? Of course.”
Some things may have changed, but luckily, the fact that The Steamy Bean still has the best homemade muffins luckily hasn’t, and I already knew she’d be dying to eat as many as she can during her stay in town.
“I must say, I’m impressed,” she compliments, her smile widening. Honestly, though, how could I forget? I remember everything about her and our time together—literally everything.
“Well, if I’m going to ask someone to coffee, you’d best believe I’m going to do it right.”
“Good, because I actually haven’t made it here yet, if you can believe it, and I’ve been dying for one of those muffins.”
I feign shock as my mouth hangs open. “Wow! Does this mean you’re no longer a coffee addict?” While in any other town it’s possible she could’ve been getting her coffee from elsewhere, in a small town like Evergreen Grove, this is the only place to go.
“Actually, for Christmas this year I got Miles one of those fancy espresso machines, and while it was still in the box when I got here, I’ve since set it up for him and have been treating myself,” she explains with an almost embarrassed laugh and a shrug. “That man’s got no sophistication or class. He still drinks from one of those old-school coffee pots.”
“Ford,” the barista calls as we both turn to look his way. “Your drinks and muffins are ready,” he says, pushing the drinks and the bag toward us.
“Thanks, Buddy. You’re the best.” Grabbing the bag and my drink, I motion with my head for her to join me over at one of the small tables by the window.
“Just as perfect as I remember,” she hums after taking a sip as she sits across from me, a huge smile plastered on her face. “What I can’t figure out is how you can drink it plain like that, especially when you can have it taste like pure heaven and bliss,” she adds, holding up her cup, where inside is a tan liquid with swirls of white cream forming intricate patterns.
“Not all of us can handle our caffeine parading as pure sugar.” I chuckle. “Plus, you know me, I’ve always enjoyed my coffee like my soul…”
“Black,” we say in unison as she rolls her eyes. Having heard that joke one too many times, she just shakes her head while bringing her drink to her lips once more.
“Still haven’t stopped with the dad jokes, I see.”
“I remember there being a time when you once laughed and found them funny.”
“Exactly. Once . I mean, come on, how many times have you told that same exact joke?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as if to further make her point.
“Alright, fine. Maybe I need some new material,” I concede, lifting my own cup as I take a drink, the warm, heavenly liquid hitting the spot.
“I have to ask. What do your students think of your cheesy jokes?” she asks, but continues before I can answer, “Let me guess, they eat you alive?” A mischievous grin lights up her features, and while that smile comes entirely at my expense, I can’t fault her for it. I’m hopelessly bewitched and would still do nearly anything to witness it.
“I’ll have you know they love my jokes.”
She raises a skeptical brow. “Really?” she asks, clearly not buying what I’m selling.
“Okay, so maybe they give me some crap about it, but they’re a lot like you. They like to pretend they hate them, while secretly wanting more.”
She laughs, her head tipping back. “There’s a lot to love about you, Ford Hastings, but your cheesy jokes definitely aren’t one of them.”
“As long as you love me, that’s all that matters,” I say with a small chuckle.
It isn’t until she blinks a few times that I realize exactly where this conversation has gone—exactly where it shouldn’t have. This shouldn’t be a strange occurrence, especially considering that when Blair, Ronnie, and I were young, we would frequently express our love for one another.
However, as we grew older, these declarations became increasingly rare. In fact, the last time Blair told me she loved me was the day of my wedding, if my memory serves me correctly, and I have no doubt that it does. I mean, how exactly could one forget? I distinctly recall her declaration as she claimed that this wasn’t just some fleeting, silly, and childish type of love, but that she was head over heels for me in a deep, unwavering, once-in-a-lifetime type of way.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat as I do my best to shrug off the palpable tension that’s since surrounded us, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to meet with me today.”
“I mean, maybe a little, but why does it suddenly sound so ominous?” she asks, doing her best to smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re not planning to off me, are you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I laugh. “I just figured we should talk about what we’re doing for Ronnie’s bachelorette party. I know that’s mainly your job as the maid of honor, and that you and Ronnie have always talked about the fun things you wanted to do when the time came, but since I haven’t heard of anything being set in stone yet, I figured once it is, I can relay the message to the other bridesmaids.”
It’s possible that I’m overstepping, but that shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone considering my Type A personality. I’ve always been the one to push both Blair and Ronnie when it was needed. I also feel like it makes the most sense for me to be the one in contact with the other bridesmaids, given that they both work at the school with Ronnie and me.
“Oh, yes, that’s perfect,” she says, setting her drink on the table as she claps her hands and links her fingers together. “I did actually have some ideas, so I’m glad you brought it up.”
As she enthusiastically lists her ideas, I swiftly retrieve a notebook from my laptop bag, ready to document everything. It’s honestly a little bit comforting how easily we seem to slide back into our old roles, almost like slipping into a familiar pair of shoes. I even do my best to keep my mouth shut as she animatedly rattles off some pretty racy ideas, leaving me blushing in my seat.
Nevertheless, I won’t veto anything in Blair’s plan. It’s clear that despite the distance and even with my closer proximity to Ronnie these past ten years, they still have a strong connection and know without a shadow of a doubt what the other would want.
We’re so engrossed in our plans that I pay little attention to the small bell above the door as it rings, signaling a newcomer. It isn’t until a shadow looms over our table that I realize someone’s joined us.
Lifting my pen, I turn and see my ex, or soon to be, I suppose. I don’t even know. It’s still a bit complicated.
As always, she looks great. While Blair and I appear as opposites in many ways, Jenny and I share several similarities. While Blair is much shorter than I am, Jenny is only a few inches shorter with matching brown hair and brown eyes. Her best and most unique feature by far is her long, curly hair, which is currently pulled halfway up.
She’s stunning, which was easily what attracted me to her all those years ago, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my years married to Jenny, there needs to be way more than physical attraction to make a relationship work.
I swallow. “Jenny. Hey,” I say, glancing over at Blair, whose round blue eyes are as wide as saucers. I want to tell her she has nothing to worry about, since I never told Jenny about Blair’s wedding day confession, but her nerves are likely warranted.
Despite my past frustration and countless efforts to foster a friendship between the two women, there remains an undeniable awkwardness between them, even after all these years.
“Jenny, wow. You look…” Blair starts, lifting a hand in the air as she struggles for words and I do my best not to wince. This little reunion is every bit as awkward as I could’ve imagined. “Great,” she finally manages.
Jenny’s lips twist, her eyes scrutinizing Blair as she looks her over. “You look great too,” she offers, and given the icy tone, I have to wonder if Blair was right all those years ago when she constantly complained to me about my girlfriend being incredibly patronizing and passive-aggressive.
As a teenage boy, I suppose it was easy for me to bury my head in the sand, especially when I had such strong feelings for both of them. Plus, it wasn’t just Blair who voiced her complaints; Jenny had been plenty vocal about her dislike for Blair as well.
With time, and as I grew up and let myself see things as they truly were, I became increasingly aware of Jenny’s negative attributes. Despite my efforts to push away my worries and fears, the constant arguments during the last year of our marriage made it increasingly difficult to recognize the qualities of Jenny that I’d once fallen for.
“We were just planning Ronnie’s bachelorette party,” I explain, nodding toward the paper in front of me. I know I shouldn’t care, and have no reason to feel guilty, but considering many of those arguments had involved Blair, even though I hadn’t spoken to her since our wedding, I oddly feel like a child caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“I see,” she says, still using that same condescending tone that absolutely drives me nuts. “Well, I definitely don’t want to interrupt this important conversation, so I guess I’ll leave you two to it.”
“It was good to see you, Jenny,” Blair says, her smile forced, and her body tense.
“Sure,” she says with a less than amused scoff, before turning toward the counter.
Blair lets out a loud breath. “Well, that went…well?”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I apologize.
“It’s not your fault,” she brushes me off with a wave before reaching for her drink and taking a long sip.
“I don’t know about that. She is my ex, after all. I feel like that provides me with some sort of responsibility here.”
“Well, in your defense, you did try your hardest to make us friends and get us to like each other, and I’m sure if I’d really wanted to, I could have tried a little harder…and I mean,” she continues, leaning in close to whisper the rest, “I did try to steal her groom on her wedding day. I’m pretty sure she has every reason in the world to dislike me.”
“If it makes you feel any better. I never told her.”
She blinks. “Oh.”
“I didn’t think I should. I knew you already had a hard time with her, and while I didn’t see us having too many more get-togethers after all of that, I just didn’t want to somehow make things even worse,” I ramble, doing my best to explain. But how can I? It’s obvious that I never handled any of this correctly.
Maybe I should’ve been more open and upfront with Jenny, but that didn’t seem like a healthy situation for anyone. I also knew I needed to forget it for my own sanity. There was no way I could have a healthy and happy relationship with my new wife when all I could think about was the girl I’d grown up in love with.
“No, I’m glad. I was so embarrassed. I still can’t believe I let myself do something so irresponsible and unfair. I never should’ve put you in that kind of position,” she says, reaching out to place her hand on top of mine.
I look down as the warmth immediately spreads, but she seems to think better of it and quickly removes her hand.
“Blair, I…” I begin, but she shakes her head as she pushes out of her seat, the scraping metal of her chair drawing the attention of everyone else in the shop, including Jenny.
“I forgot. I’m supposed to be meeting Ronnie soon. I need to go, but I’ll uh, text you later with the final details?” she rambles, as I stupidly nod in agreement. “Thanks again for the coffee and the muffin.”
I attempt a smile. “Anytime,” I call, but her body language speaks volumes as she swiftly disposes of her trash in the nearest receptacle before the ringing of the bell marks her hasty departure.
I try not to take it personally. I know she’s telling the truth, especially since Ronnie mentioned meeting with Blair during lunch today in the teachers’ lounge. Nevertheless, it’s clear that I was venturing into uncomfortable territory, and she sought to put as much distance between herself and me as possible. I’m starting to sense a pattern with us. Yesterday it was me running away, and now, apparently, it’s her turn.
I want to believe this is a good thing, but as my eyes shift toward the counter, I catch Jenny giving me a knowing look that screams “I told you so.” Nothing like your ex seeing you get flustered by the woman that she not only hates, but has always been convinced was the reason for the downfall of your relationship, and the worst part is, I’m starting to think maybe she was right. Hell, I know she was. How was I ever expected to have a strong marriage when I was so clearly married to the wrong woman?
While I’ve tried to lie to myself and think otherwise, it’s become glaringly obvious. It’s always been Blair, but after all this time and her eagerness to escape my presence, how can we ever possibly move past this?