Chapter 18 #2
“Told you about him, didn’t I?” Ford states, reminding me he doesn’t fully remember our conversation at Randy’s Bar.
I shrug. “Might have mentioned a detail or two.” He’d told me about being divorced while not knowing he was divorced. How he was served and then what he saw. Eventually, I’d stalked the social media of Romero Valdez. He looked like a dick. I had stronger words for Ford’s ex.
Ford lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have talked to you then. I hadn’t even told my family.”
“But we were on the verge of being family. Within forty-eight hours, we were hitched as this weird siblings-in-law thing, like stepsiblings.” I laugh, knowing these comparisons bug Ford.
Wiggling my brows, I continue, “Some people find that hot. Step-brother and step-sister sneaking into each other’s bedrooms.”
Ford shivers. “We are not the same thing. And I do not find that hot.”
“Being step-brother-step-sister?” I lift my beer for my mouth. “Or sneaking into each other’s room?”
Ford’s ears turn a light shade of pink, and I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed that phenomenon before. I’m always concentrating on his face instead, but I’ll definitely be checking out his ears in the future.
He shakes his head. He’s always shaking his head at me but he’s also genuinely smiling.
“What happened earlier today?”
Squinting in the direction of the living room, watching his girls, Ford tells me what happened on the ballfield with his teammate, in the locker room afterward, and then his conversation with his coach.
“That is rough.” Placing my hand on his forearm, I add. “Thank you for defending my honor.”
I know better than to be bothered by some random jackass saying he’d tap me. Gross. But I’m certain comments like that, and more, happen behind my back often. Ford cringed when he told me what was said, but I wanted to hear what set him off. I’m flattered he was sticking up for me.
“You know, him saying that is also disrespectful to Felicity.” I have no feelings for the woman who has fucked up with Ford, but being that Romero said what he said means he isn’t one to be trusted with Felicity’s feelings. A cheater cheats on repeat.
“I don’t care about Felicity,” Ford says, lifting his beer and taking a heavy pull.
“But you should. She’s the mother of your girls, and they are watching.
” An unhealthy relationship between their mother and another man could mean lasting damage for his daughters.
I know. I watched my mother cower and give in to my father too often.
If she wanted to correct his insults to me, she didn’t.
She played into them instead for his approval, but she often looked chagrined afterward.
Couldn’t play it both ways, though, Mommy.
“What they see is a mom who walked away from them. Choosing to fool around with a player instead of sticking with their dad.”
“You’re a loyal man, Ford. A man doing the right thing, even when it feels like you’ve been wronged.” And he has been wronged. He’s also still hurting.
Ford lowers his head another second before shaking it. “Let’s stop talking about me. You mentioned you fly out tomorrow, but what brought you here?”
“Besides chasing a hot center fielder?”
Ford tips his head, his jaw tight. “I’m serious.” His eyes say cut the shit, giving off June-glare vibes. The deepening blue also suggests he knows there’s something more than wanting to attend a spring training game.
Sitting up straight, I take an exaggerated breath and tighten my hold on my beer bottle. “I needed a break,” I admit. “Just twenty-four hours to be . . . Caitlin and not Cadence.”
“Why?” A crease forms in his forehead. Then he adds, “Does this have anything to do with the breaking news in the music industry?” He waves his hands in the air like I did earlier while dropping his voice.
“Something like that.”
“You can talk to me,” he offers. “While I’m clearly a blabbering drunk, I’m also a good listener. And I can keep a secret.”
Everything in me says to trust Ford. He doesn’t have anything to gain from me. He’s successful in his own right and has more than I’ll ever have with his three girls.
“I’m opening my own production company. Taking back the rights to my earlier music and re-recording it.”
Ford stares at me, perhaps not knowing how big of a deal this is.
“My manager wanted me to flip from country to mainstream. More pop. More funk. And while I have a few songs that cross genres, I’d prefer to stay in my lane.” I didn’t need to be someone I wasn’t even if being Cadence somedays felt like I was pretending all the time.
“Weren’t you just nominated for a Grammy?”
“You stalking me, Ford Sylver?”
“It’s not like you don’t make the news.” The tops of his ears pinken again, and I smile, knowing he’s been keeping tabs on me, at least a little bit.
“But I didn’t win that Grammy, and as much as it would be nice . . .” I already have a few. “The Country Music Awards are more important to me. I want to be recognized among my immediate peers.”
Ford continues to watch me.
“Think of it like the Golden Gloves. You’re recognized by the baseball league for your skill.”
Ford nods but still says, “So what does owning your own production company entail?”
“I’ll re-record and re-produce my earlier songs, then re-release them, and cross my fingers my followers will like the new rendition.
” My new production team is banking they will, forcing the owners of the contracts I still have to surrender my rights due to competition.
“Essentially, I’ll be the boss. In charge of where my music goes and what it earns. ”
“My music manager has been with me for a long time, and he disagreed with my desire for this venture. But I didn’t know he was skimming off the top and making deals behind my back.
” Costing me millions I couldn’t allow myself to consider.
I’d lost so much, but I’d earned plentifully over the last fifteen years.
“I consulted with my music entertainment lawyer, and hired a new assistant who is about to become my manager. Jerry has been forewarned. I’m breaking up with Alba Records, and I’m separating myself from him. I’m taking back control of my music. They’re my songs.”
Riding the high of my future while working through the low of severing my past, I needed a moment to regroup.
I couldn’t think of a better way to do such a thing than something mainstream and out of the ordinary for me, like attending a baseball game.
Which happened to include one hot center fielder.
“Sounds like a huge venture.”
“It is,” I say, both overly excited and a bit overwhelmed. “But it’s what I want.”
“You’re always striving, aren’t you?”
I tip my head, questioning what he means.
“You’re a damn big success as you are, and yet you’re taking names and cashing checks, and advancing your career in a new direction.” Ford’s tone is both praise and awe, mingled with a touch of melancholy.
Why, though? He’s just as successful as me, and major league players make millions. He’s only thirty-seven, although he can’t play baseball forever. For me at thirty-five, I feel like I’m finally hitting my stride.
“Well, if this is what you want, congratulations, boss lady.” Ford takes his empty beer bottle and taps the neck against my half-full one.
“Thanks.” While proud of myself, I’m also nervous, and suddenly, I’m wondering what it would be like to talk to someone like Ford every night about my concerns and decisions. The highs. The lows. And everything in between.
I wonder if I could tell him about Evan and how the texts have continued even after all these months of separation. No longer daily like they had once been, they are still steady enough that just when I think Evan has forgotten me, the nagging questions return.
Did you sleep alone last night?
Who was with you?
Where are you?
Looking at Ford and then glancing toward his girls, now isn’t the time to blurt out my history. Not after sharing my good news about the future. I want my visit to be a happy memory.
“How’s the shoulder?”
Ford hitches it but can’t hide the strain in his face as he lies, “I’m good.”
“What you are is terrible at lying. Is there something I can do? I can give a mean massage.” I lift my fingers and squeeze the air.
“Those fingers are probably insured for billions, not a backrub.”
“I can spare the change,” I tease.
Ford laughs. “Actually, a massage might hurt more than help right now, so I’m good.” He glances at his watch. “And I need to get the girls in the tub.”
“Want help with that?”
“I got it.” He stands with his empty beer and tosses it in a bin for recycling. Then he reaches for my bottle and gives it a shake. “You done with this?”
“I’m finished.” What I’m not finished with, though, is spending time with him. I don’t want to leave yet.
I stand as well. “Sure you don’t want help with the girls? I can comb wet hair. Maybe French braid it.” I glance at the girls with a need to linger.
“Help with June after her bath would be nice. And Zelle needs a reminder to rinse her hair when she’s in the shower.”
Being a girl dad can’t be easy, and the job will only get tougher when they reach puberty. Still, Ford seems like the kind of guy to handle those awkward moments like a champ.
Watching me, his expression suggests he’s puzzled why I’d want to help him out. His bum shoulder isn’t the issue. It’s me. I’m the problem. I don’t want to be alone.
“Deal.” I hold out my hand to shake Ford’s, because if we don’t shake, I might leap at him for a hug.
He stares down at my extended hand a second and then takes it, shaking it awkwardly once before holding on a little longer. “You’re so weird.” But he smiles like being quirky isn’t such a bad thing.
“Quack, quack, quack.”
Ford bursts out laughing.
I haven’t heard Ford with a belly-rolling laugh and the sound is mesmerizing. Deep and rich, and a grand slam out of the ballpark. I want to do a cartwheel with how happy it makes me that I made him laugh like he is.
He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand like he did last October when I helped him with his bruised cheek in the bathroom. Then he squeezes once before releasing me.
“Bath time,” he calls out to his girls.
Someone groans. Someone else asks for five more minutes. Ford pauses the program before shutting down the television and his little ducks file off the couch for the bathroom.
For the first time ever, I wonder what being a mother duck might be like.