Chapter 26
[Ford]
Days after our field trip, I’m running late from physical therapy to pick up Winnie and Zelle at art camp.
A local art studio, appropriately named Art’s Studio, was run by a friend of Knox, and hosted daily art sessions in the mornings for kids.
Apparently, I’d missed a call from the studio, so I was not only late, I was also anxious there was an issue.
Within seconds of my arrival, I see Cadence seated in a chair beside Winnie, her hand on my daughter’s curled back. Zelle stands nearby, head lowered. All three of them have their backs to me. My mouth pops open ready to demand what happened when Cadence speaks.
“We don’t ruin someone else’s artwork just because they said something mean to us.”
Who hurt Winnie? What did he or she say? My step falters and I pause feet away from where Cadence glances up at Art, the owner of the studio, and an amputee in a wheelchair. Art’s face is weathered skin, full of wrinkles, and he smiles encouragingly at Cadence.
“She said my project was ugly. Like me,” Winnie explains.
What the fuck?
Cadence brushes back the loose hairs sticking out from Winnie’s braids, the ones Cadence made this morning.
“First,” Cadence begins. “You are beautiful no matter what that other girl said.” She tenderly swipes down Winnie’s nose and adds, “You’re perfect.”
My throat thickens at the affection Cadence gives to Winnie along with the encouraging words. Cadence is gentle and calm in this moment, which is completely opposite my ex-wife. Hell, even more opposite than my father. Cadence is patience personified with my girls.
She takes a deep breath, pausing the soothing stroking she’s doing around Winnie’s ear to clasp the back of Winnie’s neck and make certain my daughter’s attention is on her before she continues.
“You’re beautiful on the outside and in here.” Cadence taps Winnie’s temple and then pokes at her heart. “And here. You’re thoughtful and wonderful with a family who loves and supports you.”
Cadence offers a reassuring smile but her forehead crinkles.
Just the briefest waver before she continues.
“Sometimes people who don’t have what you have feel bad about themselves, and in turn want to hurt others to make them feel the same way.
Which might be why the other girl called you and your painting ugly. ”
Cadence leans her forehead toward Winnie and continues in a compassionate but puzzled voice, like there’s no explanation other than the truth for what she says next. “And other times people are just awful for the sake of being awful.”
Winnie’s eyes are downcast, but Cadence must gently squeeze Winnie’s nape to regain her attention. Heck, Cadence has my full attention. I’m in awe of how she’s handling this moment.
“When people are mean, it’s okay to feel upset. You feel how you feel, but how you react towards that person determines the type of person you are.” Cadence gently points at Winnie. “You be the bigger person.”
“She was bigger than me,” Winnie argues, sitting straighter in her chair, her legs swinging below it.
“You be the better person, then,” Cadence corrects. “That means, you hold your beautiful head up high and smile despite what she said.” Cadence imitates her suggestion.
“You’ll stun her with your beauty and grace.” Cadence swipes her hand along one of Winnie’s braids.
“Kill them with kindness,” Art adds, pumping his fist in the air.
“Daddy didn’t smile when his teammate said something not nice to him.”
What the fuck?! How does Winnie know what happened with Romero?
Worse, how do I explain my reaction to her?
I’ve been careful to explain my injury came from having a bad shoulder, but the girls had been present at that game.
They saw Romero and I get in each other’s face. They saw Romero take me down.
Cadence glances up at Art who offers an encouraging smile and nods before his watery eyes meet mine over Cadence’s head.
Cadence wraps her hand around Winnie’s braid, gently tugging so Winnie meets Cadence’s gaze.
“Your daddy is sorry you saw him get upset with a teammate. Sometimes, it’s hard to hold our feelings back.
But holding them back prevents us from being reactive.
Ruining the other girl’s project was reactive, Winnie.
Your dad wouldn’t want you to be that way.
Think before you act. Take a deep breath.
Did ruining her project make you feel better?
” Cadence pauses for effect, letting Winnie consider an answer but before she speaks, Cadence continues, “I bet it didn’t. I know you are better than that.”
Cadence’s reprimand is said with delicate honesty.
I don’t want Winnie thinking she can damage someone else’s belongings because someone called her a name.
I don’t want someone calling my girl names, but Winnie needs to learn that those hurtful words, that mean person, isn’t relative to who Winnie is.
Strong. Beautiful. Resilient. Most of all, Winnie needs to know Cadence is right.
She needs to be the better person in an altercation.
It’s a difficult lesson to teach a six-year-old, and I’ll need to do better myself.
I’m worried once again I’ll fail at fatherhood.
But I’m also completely enthralled by Cadence.
With my arms crossed, I bow my head a second, softly smiling to myself as the warmth of Cadence’s tone envelops her message.
She’s pure magic, and it isn’t just with the girls.
Her compassion and empathy are a gift, along with her huge heart.
Glancing back up, my own heart swells with how she’s focused on Winnie, softening the lesson but still imparting its importance.
Cadence has become an integral part of our lives, and watching her play fondly with Winnie’s braids, I feel myself falling deeper under the Cadence spell.
A star that shines so bright, you just want to bask a little longer in the light.
Winnie shifts in her chair, finally noticing me. She presses off her seat, races around Cadence and rushes toward me. Squatting down to meet her level, I catch her in my arms. She immediately nuzzles her face into my neck, and soft tears dampen my skin.
“Hey baby. What happened?”
“I’m in trouble.”
With me on my haunches and her on her feet between my bent knees, I shift her, so we make eye contact. “You aren’t in trouble, Winnie. You’re learning. And as long as you learn a lesson, there’s no trouble. Understand?”
She nods, but I don’t know if she does.
“I think you’re beautiful. So does Cadence.” I gently wiggle Winnie’s body.
She plucks at the sweaty collar of my tee. Her eyes lowered to her fingers. “She told me.”
“Well,” I glance up at Cadence before looking back at Winnie. “We matter most. Along with Zelle and June. We love you.”
Winnie’s gaze drifts to Cadence, who has turned in her chair, hand poised on the back of it as she watches us. She nods once, her smile wide, encouraging me or reassuring Winnie, I’m not certain which, but I’m pleased either way.
I’m happy she’s here and I don’t want her to ever leave any of us.
“Can you show me your project?”
Winnie nods and runs back toward Cadence who apparently was holding the object.
When Winnie brings it back to me, I hate to admit I’m not certain what it is.
Something made with chicken wiring, an orange clothes pin on the front, and a bunch of yellow feathers stuck to it. Thankfully, Winnie explains.
“I wanted a lucky duck, too, Daddy. So I made myself one. It’s romance, right? I’m giving it to me because I love me.”
Fuck. My. Heart.
“Yeah, baby. It’s romance. I love it, and I love you, too, Winnie.”
With pride on her face, and a beautiful smile no one should ever insult, my girl beams.
And I catch the glint of tears in another beautiful set of eyes staring at both of us.
+ + +
That night, my body is tight, my mind a mess.
Physical therapy earlier in the day was a bitch, and I’m sore but restless.
My brain can’t turn off the scene at the studio with Cadence soothing Winnie.
Cadence getting to my girl before me and taking care of things.
Cadence rushing in once more to help us.
My bedroom might be air-conditioned but the room feels stifling. I’ve been laying here for more than an hour and decide to refill the water glass I keep beside my bed and head for the kitchen.
“Cadence?” I whisper, finding the refrigerator open, and her body illuminated by the light within. She quickly shuts the door as if I’d caught her stealing my prized Kerry Wood autographed baseball.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks. I could ask her the same thing.
“Thirsty,” I admit, suddenly scanning her body from her toes to her head.
Her hair is loose. Her tank top reveals she isn’t wearing a bra.
Her silky pajama shorts expose her long legs where her bare feet are highlighted with bright-purple polished toes.
The color reminds me of the pen she used to autograph a napkin.
“You really like purple.” Not the strangest thing to say, but something that feels awkward to mention in the darkness of the kitchen. Only a nightlight plugged in near the stove illuminates the space.
“It’s my signature color.” She lays the Southern drawl on thick and tosses her hair over her shoulder with flare. Violet was also the name of one of her albums. I might have done a little research on her.
“My mother’s name was Violet.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “And I have no idea why I just said that.”
She slides away from the fridge, her hands gripping the edge of the countertop behind her. Her breasts lift, stealing my breath. Her head tips to the side. “Do I remind you of your mother?”
“I don’t remember her.”
“I’m sorry,” Cadence whispers.
“Let’s not small talk about family tonight, though.” My mother isn’t someone I want to discuss. Not with the way Cadence is looking at me as I lean into the center island with my backside. My position mirrors hers, as I hold onto the counter behind me.
Cadence bends forward a little and conspiratorially whispers. “Okay, cowboy, what should we discuss?”
After a moment of awkward silence, she speaks again. “Maybe we could discuss that attitude you gave me back in April when I came to see you in Chicago.”
With my backside against the kitchen island, I scan her body again. The length of her legs. The subtle flare of her hips. The swell of her breasts. Why is she so tempting? Why do I want her so much?
When I don’t say anything, Cadence speaks again. “Apologize to me.”
That tone. That spark in her eyes. I drop to my knees at her feet.
A sharp gasp overshadows the hum of the fridge.
With my eyes on hers, I reach for the hem of her tank top and press it upward, exposing her stomach. However, I don’t lower my gaze from her eyes.
“Cadence,” I whisper, my voice rough. “Please forgive me.” With my eyes still locked on hers, I lean forward and kiss her belly.
Another gasp escapes her, this one closer to a quiet moan.
Still holding her gaze, I lean back but quickly return to her stomach, pressing soft kisses along her waist. When her fingers gently comb through my hair and circle my ear, I hum.
“Ford.” Her voice cracks, but her fingers return to my hair. The combing becomes more insistent.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” I’ll immediately pop back up to my feet and pretend I was never on my knees, wanting her to beg me for more.
“I can’t.” She swallows, eyes meeting mine. “I won’t.”
My lips open, sucking at her cool flesh. With my hands at her hips, I tug her lower body forward then pin her to the cabinet behind her. I kiss her stomach again and again, blazing a trail along her waistband before tucking my fingers into the hem of her shorts and giving a little tug.
When she doesn’t protest, I pull harder at the material, easing it over her hips and giving me a peek at what I’ve dreamed she’d look like. No underwear.
Running my nose around her belly button, I lower her shorts to her ankles before dipping down to her coarse curls and inhaling her scent. Grapefruit, everywhere.
“I want a lick,” I tell her.
Cadence spreads her legs a little wider. “Yes,” she hisses, and I dive between her thighs, hitching one of her legs over my good shoulder.
“Your shoulder,” she quips, gripping my hair and tipping back my head.
I care about you.
As she struggles to pull her leg away, I clap my hand on her outer thigh. “It’s my other shoulder.” Although I’m not feeling any pain in this position. In fact, I’ve never felt better and with my face between her thighs, I lick her long and soft.
Cadence’s throaty groan has me glancing up to see her tilting back her head. Her eyes close. Her fingers smooth through my hair again.
“Watch me,” I command.
Her head snaps forward, gaze dropping to me.
With our eyes locked, I dip between her thighs again and swipe my tongue where she’s soft and sweet.
With Cadence’s second moan, I hit the ball out of the park, and I’m off, outlining each fold and flicking her clit before sliding home, my tongue diving into her.
Cadence writhes above me. Her hips gently rocking as I rush to devour her.
I slip my hand to her ass and squeeze, tugging her tighter to my face.
With her leg over one shoulder and her backside trapped in my hands, she’s open and wild on my tongue.
Her breath hitches. My name is a soft cry.
With a flick of my tongue on that sensitive nub, Cadence grips both my ears and releases a deep, long hum.
“Cow-boy.” Her legs slightly stiffen, and I memorize the motion, her sound, and the way she tastes. I’ll never be the same.
With her strangled cry, my desire intensifies, and I broadly swipe over her folds once more, before dipping in for a second round.
“Ford?”
“I’m a perfectionist,” I mutter to her sweet, wet pussy. “I want another one.” I might even demand a third. Or a grand slam of four.
Slipping my hand forward, I use my fingers in tandem with my tongue on her clit. First one finger, then two enter her heat. “Take three.”
Cadence whimpers while allowing me to slide three fingers deep, stretching her, filling her. God, I can only imagine what it’d be like to slide my fully hard cock inside her, but I can wait. I want her sounds and taste more.
Within seconds, Cadence is rocking against me again, her body flinching, her sighs a staggered catching of her breath.
I want this woman to fall apart while I’m on my knees. “Break, baby.”
For the second time, she does.