Chapter 12
[Cadence]
As Ford retreats outside, my gaze follows like a toy on a pull string. Watching me hold his daughter, he suddenly looked so stricken, so puzzled, and I wanted to solve all his pieces.
I set June down, glancing at Violet for assistance, while I reach for my clutch.
“I got her,” the young girl states, reading my desperation. I didn’t want to let go of June, but I had to chase Ford.
Those ghosts in his eyes had returned.
Once clear of the tent opening, Ford spins as if he senses me behind him.
“Ever feel like your entire life has been one big fucking lie.” His arms flare out from his sides, until bending one to reach for the back of his neck.
He tips his head and stares up at the cold autumn sky.
The clouds are clearing. Stars speckle the velvety midnight blanket here and there.
His question sounds vaguely reminiscent of our night together.
“Ever feel like what felt like the right life has gone wrong?”
I haven’t felt right in a while. But Pre-Evan, life was good.
“I don’t think my wife ever loved me.” Ford sighs, still gazing upward. His voice is low, pain lancing through the roughness.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m not really an expert on love, but she must have loved you. She married you and gave you three beautiful daughters.”
Ford huffs.
“What?” I whisper, truly confused.
“Felicity didn’t want children. She’d told me, but I hadn’t believed her.” Shaking his head side to side he explains. “Zelle was all my idea. Winnie came along as a consolation. Felicity thought it would help us as a couple.” Ford closes his eyes. “I don’t even know how June happened.”
When his lids flip open, the blue inside them is molten heat. “But I’d never change one minute of having those girls. And I’m not giving them up.”
I’m not certain if he’s trying to convince me or himself. While their divorce is final, I have no idea what their custody arrangement is, if there even is one.
“My father gave my mother seven children, and he hated every one of us,” Ford continues.
My mouth falls open. “That can’t be true.” Enya hinted that Sebastian had a rough life growing up, but he also had the love and care of his siblings, especially Stone and Vale.
“That’s the only truth I know about my upbringing.”
A heaviness falls between us, as oppressive as the earlier clouds.
Finally, I ask, “Are you still in love with Felicity?” The question comes out like a record player needle scratching over vinyl. The accusation reminiscent of the last fight I had with Evan.
You will not leave her. Contrary to your actions, you still love her. There was no way I was going to ask him to leave his wife. His child. I hadn’t known they existed.
“No.” Ford grunts, turning his head away from me. “No, absolutely not. Infidelity is a hard limit for me.”
Understandable.
I’m not clear if Felicity cheated before the incident the other day or if what Ford witnessed—and what a thing to see—was the first time. Regardless, he’d been divorced at the time, if only days old.
“Cadence.” My name is a soft call by my sister from just inside the tent. “It’s time.”
Ford stares at me. “Time for what?”
“I promised my sister I’d sing. One song.
” I hold up a finger emphasizing the number.
I did not want my sister’s wedding to turn into a Cadence concert.
However, Enya really wanted one particular song sung.
As the tune is a duet, I couldn’t have pulled it off on my own, so I was fortunate Daggett was in the area.
We’ve been friends for years, acting as plus-ones for each other on several occasions.
“Your date,” Ford mutters, closing his eyes.
I’m not the bad girl here and Ford’s earlier words still stung but I recognize a hurting soul, and his is flaming with pain. Still, he shouldn’t have said what he said about all the boys thinking I’m their friend. Or sound so snarky about a non-date.
Stepping away from him, I head toward the tent but then I turn around again.
Ford is pacing, head tipped back as if he’s lamenting his troubles to the sky.
With measured steps, I walk back to him, watching as he slowly stops moving, his gaze turned on me, flickering to my mouth.
My eyes visually trace the tightness of his lips before darting up to those ghost-filled eyes.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches me.
When I take the final steps forward, each punctuates my command. “Apologize. To. Me.”
When the tips of my shoes are kissing his, his nostrils flare. His jaw is tense and locked. His hands ball at his sides like he’s restraining himself. Then, like the snap of fingers, his stoic expression breaks.
His hands are on my face, and I’m tugged toward him. Our mouths collide. The kiss is hard, biting and desperate. His mouth eager to capture mine, and we fight for control. Him. Or me.
Too quickly, I find myself giving in, losing the battle to keep a wall between Ford and me.
He’s broken. I can’t fix him. Still, this kiss is everything.
Flames of desire surge up my legs, igniting a part of me that’s been cold for too long.
I lean into Ford, dropping my clutch to fist his tie in my hand and pull the thin length forward as if I can draw him closer to me.
But just as quickly as we crash, we fall apart.
Ford steps back, his eyes wide. His lips parted. His chest heavily rises and falls, like he’s run an entire baseline in under thirty seconds. Still, he looks at me like he could devour me. Everything within me crackles and tingles, like the air before another storm.
Ford is that storm, only I can’t get caught out in the rain again. I’ve already had my hopes and dreams washed away, and I won’t risk my heart again.
He is practically family now and we need to behave.
“I’m sorry,” he whisper-chokes, brushing the back of his hand over his mouth and glancing down at his skin where my lipstick has surely smeared. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I want to reprimand him. I want to tell him he’s correct, he shouldn’t have. But everything in me fights the urge to lunge for him, demand he repeat what he just did.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice. Nah, not gonna happen.
Without a response, I turn away from Ford and head toward the tent, wondering if my sister witnessed what happened. I need a second to fix my hair and touch up my lips, erasing the kiss Ford just gave me that stole my breath but pierced my heart.
I cannot afford to be hurt again.
With fisted hands, I charge around the tent, knowing Daggett pulled his truck up to one side. He’d excused himself earlier to set up his guitar and an amp he travels with.
“Hey, darlin’,” he calls out to me but as I near the smile on his face lowers.
Daggett is a good-looking man with chin length hair and a trim beard.
The once dark strands on his head now hold threads of silver that match the smattering of chrome speckles in his beard.
He’s going to make one sexy silver fox in a few years.
“You okay?” he asks as I stop beside his truck.
I shake my head, not certain I can stop the vibration of my body or the pulse between my thighs but those needs will have to wait.
“Mind if I use your truck to freshen up.” I don’t have my purse, but I refuse to double back to where I’m certain I dropped it near Ford. I can work away the smudges and maybe pull a few hairpins from the back of my head to fix the stray clumps on the side.
Daggett opens his passenger door, still watching me.
He’s been a good friend over the years. He can read when I need to talk; knows when it’s best if we don’t.
He’s one of the few men I haven’t slept with when we were touring together, and he was once an opening act for me. Now, he headlines his own shows.
Stepping into Daggett’s truck, the leather seat is warm, and a reminder of how cold it actually is outside.
“Here.”
I jump at the sudden sound of Ford’s voice.
“I thought you might need this.” He holds out my clutch, and I’m grateful while still shaken. His eyes remain lowered. He quickly steps back, allowing me space or maybe giving himself the distance. We don’t need a repeat of what just happened on this front seat.
I’d never make it to stage to sing for my sister.
Because there’s one thing I’m certain about amid the chaos rumbling through my head. If Ford kissed me again, I’d be kissing him back like I just had.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
+ + +
Within a few minutes, I have my hair fixed and lipstick reapplied, and Daggett and I clasp hands to enter the tent through a side opening.
Enya gives me a relieved look, mingled with a questioning one. I’ve taken too long to get here.
“Good evening, everyone,” I say into the microphone.
While I’m used to playing stadiums, and faceless crowds that span hundreds of yards, I’m almost more nervous to sing amid such a small gathering. This is family. These are Enya’s friends. I do not want to disappoint her.
“I’m Cadence.”
Eager clapping and a loud catcall come from a table to my right and I catch sight of Zelle and Winnie eagerly standing on the edge of the dance floor.
“This is my good friend, Daggett Ryan.”
Louder clapping occurs. A sharp whistle pierces the space. My eyes seek Ford, who stands behind his designated table, hands in his pants pockets. He’s looking back at me and I’m not certain I’ve ever been so anxious to sing before anyone.
“My beautiful sister asked me to sing a song for y’all. Being that it’s a duet, I asked my good friend Daggett Ryan for a little help tonight.” I glance over at Daggett while clutching at the microphone on the stand, needing the support to still my suddenly quivering limbs.
“Enya tells me it’s her song with Sebastian.”
My new brother-in-law’s head swings to look at my sister. She holds out her hand for his and he leads her to the center of the parquet floor.
Daggett strums the first few chords and Sebastian tips his head as if knowing what we are about to sing. Then, Daggett starts in on “Thank God” by Kane Brown, a duet with his wife, Katelyn.
As we sing about thanking God for that person in our life, about hands fitting together, and the gratitude of love, Sebastian and Enya dance in their own little bubble, seeing only each other.
As for me, I can’t take my eyes off Ford, knowing I’ll never have that one person. The place where my hand will fit, and my heart will feel complete.