Chapter 25
I did a really shitty thing.
I mean, really shitty. I’m talking something Dick and Balls would do.
I don’t know why I did it.
I trust Ford. I have no reason not to.
So why did I do that?
I blink down at the phone on the marble counter top, glaring up at me, bright and unassuming, completely unaware that it has broken me. Or what I found inside, rather.
I woke not long ago, at two in the morning, dying of thirst. Passing out after having hot sex with your even hotter boyfriend leads to UTIs and dehydration, neither of which I want. I decided to slip downstairs and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
But then I saw his phone. And earlier, despite his best efforts to speak low, I could’ve sworn I heard him say Elle. The problem with that, though, is that Ford told me he was speaking with a contractor. He even came upstairs with changed plans.
I must’ve misheard.
But curiosity and insecurity, and maybe even fear, got a hold of me and before I could stop myself, I’d used Cade Mercer’s birthdate to open Ford’s phone and on the screen? The last call he took.
Elle. Yesterday. 1 min 38 secs.
Standing there, blinking at the call log as tears fog my vision, I run through all possible scenarios in my mind. Maybe Elle is the one who connected Ford to this contractor, and she’s just playing middle man until the job is done.
That could be.
Still, something doesn’t sit right.
Then again, I trust Ford. If he says that he’s meeting a contractor tomorrow night impromptu, then that’s what he’s doing. Why Elle called and what they talked about, frankly, isn’t my business until he makes it my business.
The phone screen goes dark, and I drink my water before heading back upstairs and sneaking back into bed. Ford throws one of his large legs around me, and I stroke my fingers over the ink I know is there but can’t see in the dark.
He wouldn’t lie. I trust him. Everything is going to be fine.
“So, how’s it going with your pepaw boyfriend?” Kat asks, spearing her fork tines through a bunch of arugula. “Completely unrelated, how’s my dad doing?”
I snort, bringing my wrist to my nose so soup doesn’t squirt out. “Why do you always make me laugh when my mouth is full? Seriously?”
She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder, stabbing another unsuspecting bunch of fancy lettuce that requires copious amounts of dressing to be edible.
“I’m funny at all times. You just happened to be taking a bite.
” She sips her water. “And you know I don’t really think my dad is old.
I just like teasing him.” She thinks for a second.
“And you. And now that the two of you are a couple, again, the two birds thing.”
“I’ve really made your life convenient. One phone call. One burn.” Dusting my hands together, I bow. “You’re welcome.”
She laughs, and the conversation veers into her battle with nicotine.
Kat tells me she’s now off the gum and patch, and a week free from smoking.
I almost cry; I’m so happy for her, and she also tells me that Zennie’s mom had a PET scan and the cancer is gone.
So much good news. So many good things are happening to the people I love, and in their lives, too.
I’m happy.
At least, I should be.
Because I’m with the man I’ve loved my whole life. He keeps telling me he wants to move me in. He’s hot and rich, two things I thought I may never have in a partner but look at me now, Mom and Dad.
Still.
I can’t shake the unease in my belly during the phone call last night. The phone call that he leapt out of bed to take, no less.
After lunch with Kat, I finish up a few errands downtown and head back to my apartment, though it feels foreign to me now.
I’ve edited photos on my laptop in bed with Ford, in Ford’s office, at the bar in Ford’s kitchen–everything in my life has been Ford-flavored for the last few months.
Being here, now, after not being here for so long? It feels like a step backward.
I drop my keys on the counter and twist all six of the locks into place, kicking off my shoes with a sigh. While coffee brews, I sift through the mail and convince myself that I’m being silly.
This isn’t a step backward.
I’m just here today so I don’t have to edit photos at Rise & Grind, down the block. My boyfriend is still my boyfriend. He isn’t… what? What am I even thinking? That he’s cheating? No.
“No,” I laugh aloud, pulling a mug from the cupboard.
He wouldn’t pursue me, tell Kat and the other Mercers about us, and do all of these things just to…
what? Be stringing me along? “No,” I say again, this time even shaking my head at how insecure and ridiculous I sound.
Harry treated me like his personal scab to pick, and yet Ford, who has done nothing but treat me well, is pulling more insecurity from me.
I don’t know what that’s about, but I won’t allow it.
With a fresh cup of coffee on the dining table, I get to work editing photos, the TV quietly playing the news in the background, so I don’t appear to be here alone.
The subject of these photos–Velvet–is so beautiful that not much editing is needed.
I begin flipping through photos that appear to be duplicates to the non-trained eye, opening the metadata tab on each.
Comparing the photo taken at 1600 ISO to the one taken at an even higher ISO with an even longer f-stop, I ultimately decide the images with the wider aperture and quicker shutter speed are ultimately the best for the setting.
I still remember that night that Kat got engaged, when we all went through the photos I’d taken together.
Ford was captivated by the photo I took of Kat on one knee, proposing to Zennie.
He’d asked about the aperture, and admitted that’s where his knowledge ended.
But his interest was there, and has always been there.
Hell, he contributed to the “Juliette’s first digital camera” fund back when I was a freshman in high school.
I can’t help but smile as I think of Ford, as I edit photos of the ornate framed portrait peeled back, exposing a sliver of the Velvet Whisper passage.
He’s always been good to me, even in the days of being beyond platonic. How could I even question him? Why would I finally get into a relationship with him only to turn around and start doubting him?
I can’t help but replay the peck on the temple as he leapt out of bed to answer that phone call. My stomach knots at the memory, but anger with myself quickly replaces the angst because this is ridiculous.
I close my laptop and leave my empty mug in the kitchen sink before heading to the hall closet and popping her open.
A lot of my stuff has slowly made its way to Ford’s house, but because we’re absolutely feral for one another at approximately all times, a lot of my lingerie is still here.
Well, I say a lot when I should say, the three pieces of lingerie that I’ve slowly acquired years of being a grown woman are still here.
Still in the tissue paper, inside the pink striped bag from the store that I purchased them from.
Not after tonight.
I finally have someone who will love me in this, and I know how much he was excited to start moving my things to his place tonight. A business meeting when we had plans has to be a bummer, and he’s gotta be stressed. Stressed about work, and maybe even stressed that I’m upset.
I reach into the top drawer that hasn’t been opened in ages, and pull out the first folded up pink striped bag.
Inside, beneath the tissue, is a lace teddy.
It’s basic, lace filigree making up much of the cups and bodice, with satin trim around the edges, and a bow at the top of each strap.
It’s cute, feminine and simple. And it’s my favorite color: black.
Quickly, I strip out of my clothes and tug on the teddy, catching my reflection as I untwist one of the straps. It fits, and more than that, I look fucking hot in it. The faux belt detail accentuates the narrow portion of my waist, making my hips pop.
This will be a very hot surprise for my very hot older boyfriend after a very shitty, long day at a construction site. Getting my phone out, I order an Uber, and put Ford’s house as the destination.
Quickly, I snag a pair of heels I was gifted by Zennie, ones I rarely wear due to how slim the heel is.
It’s like fall into a sidewalk crack levels of thin, and I’m terrified of tripping in heels.
But surprising Ford and shattering this insecure little nagging voice in my head is worth the risk of tripping and making a fool of myself.
After carefully toeing into them, I tug the long puffer coat from the hanger, getting a chill as I slip into it.
A trench coat would be way hotter in this situation, but I’m working with what I’ve got, and never in my life did I ever think I’d show up at a man’s house in a trench coat with lingerie on underneath, but I never thought I’d be with Ford Mercer, either.
With my hair in natural waves, I grab a bottle of champagne from my fridge, knowing that Ford won’t judge me for buying the cheap stuff.
After all, this bottle pre-dates us. Before heading out the door for the most impromptu and courageous surprise I’ve ever attempted (sorry Kat and Zen), I shoot Ford a text.
How’s it going at the site?
My cheeks burn from an oversized smile when I see his dots appear right away. He’s mid-work at a construction site but replying to me immediately. And here I was doubting him. I can’t help but shake my head at myself as Ford replies.
Good. But it’s gonna be at least another hour. Don’t wait for me to call, you need your sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.
Love you
My fingers sweep the keys, my brain lost in an empyreal high as I type back, love you too.