Chapter 10 #2
“I wouldn’t say avoiding, I was just—” Words falter as I turn toward Ford . . . who is holding Adara. Something happens to my ovaries, and I almost double over with the sharp explosion in my lower belly.
“Avoiding,” Ford confirms, pressing a soft kiss to Adara’s little head pressed against his shoulder.
Dear God. He’s minus his suit jacket with his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing strong forearms, which are holding a baby.
Is it hot in here?
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” I stammer.
“Beautiful,” Ford counters. “But I hate small talk.”
“Oh, are we small talking?”
Ford chuckles as we remain side by side, watching Violet jiggle June on her hip while Zelle stands like a shadow nearby. And all the while I’m hyperaware of Ford’s closeness. His leather and fresh grass fragrance. Him cuddling Adara.
Definitely hot in here.
“I should probably check on Winnie. She’s my troublemaker.”
“Ah, a girl I can relate to.”
“You? A troublemaker, songbird?” Ford arches one brow while his jaw does that clenching thing. “I cannot imagine.”
“Sarcasm does not become you, sir.” But that nickname becomes me and the heat I’m feeling from a hot baseball player holding a tiny baby has turned into an inferno beneath my skin.
Ford laughs, a deep guffaw that makes his blue eyes spark brighter. Adara’s little eyes jolt open as they were momentarily drifting closed.
“Your suit, however.” And that baby. “Very fine.” I hum as I roll my gaze up and down his body. He looks like he walked off a men’s magazine titled Super-Hot Single Dad.
A faint blush creeps over his face.
“How’s the jaw today?”
Ford slides his mouth awkwardly side to side.
“Better. And you’re not so bad yourself.
Purple becomes you.” Ford appraises me in another plum-colored dress, this one floor length chiffon with spaghetti straps.
Not exactly conducive to a chilly, rainy, autumn mountain afternoon, but still a lovely shade for this time of year and a cut that hugs my body in a manner I like, highlighting all my assets.
He should check on Winnie.
I shouldn’t be admiring him.
And still, we stay put.
Someone taps a spoon against a glass and people turn their attention to a sweetheart table set for only Sebastian and Enya.
The wedding party and family will sit in collections on either side of the table for two while remaining guests have assigned seats.
Thankfully, Enya placed our parents far from me.
My father has graciously kept his distance today while my mother continues to eye me, as if willing me to her when she could just as easily cross the room and speak to me.
Sebastian and Enya are announced as a couple as if they haven’t already been working the room and the two walk to their table, kissing every few steps before standing behind their seats. A wireless microphone is handed to Sebastian.
“There are traditions established within weddings, and then there is Enya and my way.” Sebastian holds my sister’s hand and brings it to his mouth before adding, “Like carrying your bride down the aisle.”
Everyone laughs.
“So bucking tradition because I’m good at that . . .”
More laughter, especially from his family.
“I’m giving the opening speech.”
Typically, the father of the bride would speak, welcoming everyone to the dinner and thanking them for sharing in the celebration, but Enya didn’t want our father to talk.
He hadn’t paid for the wedding. He hadn’t even been supportive of Adara’s birth.
Our parents had been invited as a courtesy, and I’d wager their attendance only came from curiosity.
They hardly see Adara and haven’t interacted with her, to my knowledge, yet this weekend.
“First, I’d like to thank Enya.” Sebastian turns to her again. “For having faith in me, in us, when I didn’t see what was right in front of me. And the thing I wanted more than I imagined. You. Adara. A family.”
Enya smiles wide, her gaze loving as she looks at her new husband.
“Thank you to my family who helped us pull off this party. Stone, Clay, Knox, and Judd for setting everything up.”
Ford is conspicuously left off the list.
“But mainly, I want to thank my best man, Stone, who as we all know is a great man. More father than our own.”
Many Sylvers lower their heads and from the corner of my eye, I watch Ford dip his to press another kiss to Adara’s smattering of hair.
“Stone is also the best brother and friend, and we all know he’s been there for me more times than I can count. That’s where Judd comes in, the accounting.”
“Bah-dum-dum,” someone calls out and a few people laugh.
“I also want to thank Vale, who has equally been there for me.” He squeezes Enya’s hand, lifting it within his own. “For us. And for giving me the kick in the head I need sometimes. I love you.”
Vale swipes beneath her eyes, watching her brother, as she mouths that she loves him, too.
For some reason, my own eyes well up. Sebastian continues talking, thanking a few others, and eventually even gives a shout out to me, for checking out of my busy schedule to be present for my sister.
However, I notice that Ford is left off the thank you list entirely, and I glance at him surreptitiously to gauge his reaction to the slight.
If he’s resentful or hurt, he doesn’t show it outwardly other than that tick of his jaw, marked now by a bruise from the brother who didn’t mention him.
Ford’s stiff indifference doesn’t keep his secrets from me, though. The lack of acknowledgement stings.
“Finally, I want to circle back to Enya, who gave me the best gift this morning.” Sebastian doesn’t publicly share what that gift was while gazing at Enya, but I already know what it is. Enya has officially made Sebastian the father of Adara on paper, as he’s already Adara’s dad in every other way.
I glance at my parents again, watching as they stare at my sister, wondering, maybe already knowing, that Enya considers Sebastian Adara’s father, and nothing will change her decision.
Sebastian concludes with a final thank you and more tapping on glasses begins. I doubt my new brother-in-law needs an excuse to kiss my sister, and when their mouths lock, I excuse myself from Ford and slip out of the tent.
The rain has dissipated. The sky is dark and still heavy with clouds. The air is cold and damp. I cross my arms, rubbing my hands up and down them to warm my chilled skin.
“You okay?” Ford’s low voice startles me.
“Just needed a minute.”
Ford has passed off Adara, and suddenly regained his jacket. He gently slips it over my shoulders, and I’m instantly hit with both the lingering warmth within the silky material and the sharp scent of Ford again. Worn leather, cut grass, and something masculine.
I press at the corner of my eyes uncertain where the tears have come from. A warm hand squeezes the back of my exposed neck, as my hair is also in an intricate updo.
Ford doesn’t say anything, but I feel the need to speak. “Enya and I had an older brother.”
Ford remains quiet.
“And it just sort of hit me how Sebastian and Vale sound close from what Enya tells me. Enya and I never had that kind of relationship with our brother.” I lower my head and my voice. “And he’s dead now.”
How many men have I thought were in my corner yet weren’t?
My older brother, who only ever wanted money from me.
My father, who shunned me for deciding to pursue a career in music, and equally upset with my life choice to be a free-spirited woman, independent and sexually carefree.
My manager, who has suddenly turned from the father-figure I’d grown to rely on to a money-grubbing thief. And then there was Evan.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ford says.
“You can’t lose what you didn’t actually have,” I counter, a bit too bitterly. “Plus, I thought you didn’t like small talk.”
“Is giving condolences small talk?” Ford softly chuckles.
“It’s a filler.”
Ford hums, squeezing the back of my neck once more before releasing me. Instantly, I miss the feel of his fingers against my skin and the comforting warmth they provided.
“They’re about to serve dinner,” Ford states.
“Why didn’t you help with the set up?” The question surprises both of us.
Ford sighs. “I was supposed to be here a few days earlier but then . . . and that’s when . . .”
The stammering blanks in his explanation can be filled in from what he told me the other night happened between him and his ex-wife.
“I’m really sorry she did that to you.” The short version is his wife left him and the girls for a fellow teammate.
“Now who is filling the space.” He bitterly laughs, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.
“I’m serious. You shouldn’t have been treated like you were. She shouldn’t have been with someone else.” Marriage vows are sacred. Even if I’m not married, I respect the hell out of the promises couples make to one another and the fact I was the other woman once still makes me sick to my stomach.
“Yeah, well. It happens, I guess.”
“It sure does,” I whisper.
Ford scratches under his chin, while staring up at the cloudy sky.
“But you’re going to be alright, Ford Sylver. You’re a catch.”
Ford laughs. “For someone not interested in baseball, that was a good euphemism.”
“Who ever said I wasn’t interested in baseball?”
“You. When we met.”
“You said you don’t remember anything about the other night,” I remind him.
“My memory is slowly coming back to me.” Ford faces me and our eyes lock.
“Oh, yeah, and what do you remember?”
A loose hair blows across my face and Ford gingerly brushes it off my cheek and around my ear. The backs of his fingers sweep down the side of my neck. “I remember you pressed into my back. You kissed my neck, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter, rolling my lips inward a second, locking in the lie.
“Seven shots of tequila, and now you’re telling me you don’t remember anything. I’m offended.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” I slowly grin at him.
“I’d be offended if you forgot me, Cadence Calloway.”
Will he remember me?
“Caitlin,” I correct him, swallowing around the name I hardly say and the reminder of a girl I no longer recall. “My real name is Caitlin. Cait for short. My manager thought it was too Irish for an American darling. Cadence is more lyrical.”
I’m not certain why I tell him my real name, other than I’ve been curious lately what it would be like to be seen as a regular girl meeting a normal boy.
Cait was not a brand; she doesn’t belong to the masses.
She could be any woman meeting a hot, small-town single dad and nothing outside these town limits would exist. Not Evan.
Not cheating ex-wives. Not fame nor scandal or a world that loves to see the famous fail.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything average about either Ford or me.
“K-a-t-e-l-y-n,” Ford spells, questioning the connection.
“C-a-i-t-l-i-n.” I explain and pronounce phonetically. “Cate. Lynn. See, complicated.”
“Cait. It suits you.” Ford bumps his elbow into my arm. “Brings you down to earth where the rest of us peons reside.”
“You’re hardly a peon, cowboy.”
“I’m definitely not a cowboy,” Ford laughs.
“You might be more country than you think.” I wink, knowing he came from this small mountain town and something about him still hints at grass stains on his knees and strong roots.
“I doubt it.” Ford shivers.
While I’ve been tucked cozily into his coat, he’s been braving the cool night.
“Here.” I shrug out of his jacket and hand it to him. “We better get back inside before someone thinks we’ve run off together.”
“Or thought I’ve gotten you pregnant.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that to happen.” I shiver, both from the sudden loss of heat from his coat and the thought of having children. I’d be a terrible mother.
“You don’t want kids?” he questions, hooking his finger in the collar of his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder, model-worthy style.
“Nah. I’m better as the aunt. I plan to be the best aunt Adara has.”
Ford watches me while smoothing a hand down his tie. “You’ll have stiff competition with Vale. She loves my girls.”
“Maybe I can add your girls to my list. I can be the aunt-in-law or something weird like that.”
Ford tips up his chin, a crooked smile on his lips, before waving out his hand, motioning for me to lead the way back to the tent. “Yeah, something weird like that.”