Chapter 16 #2
Not after I’ve felt his mouth on mine, hungry and possessive. Not after I’ve wrapped my fingers around the thick, veined length of him and watched his control break for me. Not after I’ve heard the low, ragged groan he makes when he’s buried deep inside me, when he’s losing himself in me.
I know him now. Intimately and, good or bad, irrevocably.
And seeing her hand glide over his chest, seeing the way he looks down at her with that soft, unguarded adoration in his eyes–it rips something open inside me.
It feels like betrayal.
Like he’s cheating.
On me.
Even though he’s not mine. Not really. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The thought is laughable. Pathetic.
I’m the ridiculous one, falling for a man I was never supposed to touch, someone clearly out of my league. What am I doing here? I could have emailed and taken the job, and pretended nothing happened. I should have.
I spin away before the tears can come, my boots clumsy on the polished floor as I stumble toward the stairwell in the passage. I have to hold the railing because it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
I’m almost free, almost gone, when I hear it.
My name. Low, urgent, unmistakable. “Juliette.”
It’s Ford. But I don’t stop. I climb the stairs faster, heart slamming against my ribs. Because whatever he has to say–it could have been an email.
It should have been.
Clearly, he’s already got everything he needs.
The cold air bites at my cheeks as I step out of Nineteen20 and onto the busy street, arm raised to flag down a cab.
My fingers tremble–not from the chill, but from all the emotion inside me, threatening to spill over.
If I pull out my phone now, open the Uber app, and let myself stand still for even a second, these tears clinging desperately to my lashes will finally break free.
They’ll carve hot paths down my face, and I’ll have to admit the truth: I never really had Ford Mercer.
I never will. To him, I’m just a fleeting moment, a speck fading fast in his rearview mirror.
As much as I told myself I already knew that, seeing him with Elle has made me realize I hadn’t accepted it. Not truly.
“Juliette!”
His voice cuts through the clatter in my brain, and my arm falls from hailing the cab. I sniffle hard, force a smile onto my lips then turn, but the second our eyes meet, my smile falls and my chin wobbles.
Ford looks... wrecked. Those piercing emerald eyes are rife with emotion, the same intensity he had when he gave that toast at the rehearsal dinner. I should hate him.
I should hate him for walking away that night on the balcony.
For showing up at my apartment and coming onto me, all just to leave me high and dry (wet, actually).
If I were watching this mess through a TV screen like a reality show, I’d call myself pathetic.
I’d tell myself to stop. To quit loving a man who’s always been just out of reach.
But I can’t.
The words tumble out before I can lock them up and throw out the key. “I’ve always had a thing for you.”
He freezes, caught off guard. One broad hand rakes through his dark hair threaded with silver, those eyes never leaving mine, intensely searching.
“It was just a fantasy,” I continue, my voice barely steady.
“Something silly I kept secret. Then that night on the balcony,” I say, not wanting the guilt of acknowledging that we did this on Kat’s big day.
“Everything changed. I told myself it was the alcohol. A mistake you’d forget.
But when you came to my place afterward.
..” I drag my gaze from the scuffed tips of my boots up to his face, my heart pounding so wildly the world tilts.
“For one stupid moment, I thought maybe it meant something. That something real was starting between us.”
I swallow hard, the memory of walking in on him with Elle still burning fresh.
“But Harry was right. Men like you don’t fall for women like me.
Not really. And seeing you with her, with Elle,” I say, naming her, needing to have the courage to at least do that much.
“It was the reminder I needed. I needed to see the real Ford Mercer. The one who exists beyond cake tastings and stolen moments on my couch.”
My voice cracks, but I push on. “I’ve known you forever, Ford. I’m not angry with you. I get who you are.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I rise onto my toes, my palm cupping his shaved cheek for one fleeting second, in case anyone we know is watching from the restaurant.
“I’ll never bring up what happened between us,” I whisper. “You’ve been calling, and I know you want reassurance, for Kat’s sake.” A forced, painful smile from me. “Consider it forgotten.”
I let my hand fall, stepping back, the distance feeling like miles already.
“But I do want the job you offered. Being the photographer for the next Velvet. I’m grateful for it, truly. And I look forward to hearing the details.”
A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “Through email.”
“Juliette, I–” Ford starts but his eyes fall to my phone in my hand, Harry’s name dancing across the screen. I answer, and Ford blinks at me, his expression unreadable.
“Hi,” I greet a very chipper Harry.
He tells me the other shoot he got for me has been rescheduled, and that if I can make it uptown now that the client is there and ready.
“Really? That’s actually perfect,” I say, lifting my hand in time to catch a cab. I pull open the door, glancing up at Ford, whose face is twisted in frustration. “Okay, see you soon, honey.” I end the call and he reaches for me, but I step back, something I never thought I’d do.
“Goodbye, Ford,” I tell him, and close the door to the backseat of the cab without giving him another look.
Ford Mercer has always been a ladies’ man. I never thought I’d be the target of one of his impromptu flings, but I realize as the cab driver sings along to Baby One More Time that I was indeed just like everyone else to him.
Good to know.
My lower back is humming by the time the shoot is finished, and while I didn’t have my favorite camera on me when Harry called, I did have one of the camera bodies I like, and my favorite lens.
I’m happy with the photos I took, and already know exactly how I’ll alter them for the final portfolio. The client–a company that makes printers–had sent someone down with new equipment to be staged in Harry’s office, and loved the photos I’d taken.
Still, with a two thousand dollar check in my hand and photos I’m pleased with, I don’t want to make this my career.
I mean stock photos of people laughing and pretending to be family members sharing meals are bad enough, but stock photos of items?
Photos of a freaking printer? Soul-sucking. Spirit-draining. Enthusiasm-stealing.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come over? I’ll make dinner,” Harry offers, and I feel so low, trying to convince myself not to be devastated seeing Ford and Elle together when I was on my way to pretend nothing happened between us anyway. Not to mention, I kissed Ford.
He made me orgasm.
And I have a boyfriend.
Guilt burns through me, and even though I want nothing more than to go home, change into my favorite comfy clothes, queue up some Scandal and drink a glass of wine the size of my head, I know I’d also stew over Ford, and maybe pull all of my hair out in the process.
And I would definitely go through his entire Instagram.
“Sure, just let me go home and change first,” I reply, my stomach sinking. I don’t want to go now but once I’m there, once I’m in Harry’s arms with something funny on TV, with the fire going and a warm blanket on our legs, things will settle. My mind will settle.
I’ll have a good time.
He was nothing but kind when glancing at the printer photos I took. No mention of the fitted pink pants I wore to the shoot, or the way they are so not slimming. Maybe he’s coming around and things are going to get better.
I guess that would be good.
Listen to me. It won’t be good. I want to dump Harry. This much I know.
When I pull up at my apartment, I have to ignore the niggle of disappointment in my gut.
I knew Ford Mercer would not randomly be at my place ready to admit his love for me.
I knew that would not be the case. Because he doesn’t love me.
He’s a playboy and I was a one time plaything.
Thinking that it would have turned into anything more, that I’d leave Harry and be with Ford would be crazy.
And if there’s anything I’m not, it’s crazy.