Chapter 28
“Whoever he is, honey, he isn’t worth it,” a woman says as I cling to the edge of the sink basin, blinking my eyes in rapid succession, unwilling to leave this restaurant with a red face. I have to hold my head high, which proves challenging in my current state.
The door whooshes closed, and another woman offers me a bottle of water. Ashamed and embarrassed to be the cliche girl drunk in a bathroom crying over a man, I don’t look up, only take the bottle and quietly murmur my appreciation.
I may be drunk and I may be a fool to have fallen for a ladies’ man who claimed he actually wasn’t a ladies’ man after all, but I’m not an idiot.
I don’t want to wake up tomorrow heartbroken and hungover.
In a matter of three long gulps, I finish the bottle of water, screwing the lid back on to toss it into the waste basket.
Turning, I find myself face to face with the woman who gave me the water.
Elle.
Just the sight of the woman closest to Ford makes the back of my eyes sting. But I don’t cry. I don’t even let my chin wobble.
“Thank you again for the water,” I tell her, ready to brush past her, out of this restaurant and into an Uber.
If I can find an Uber that time travels to three months ago, so I can do all of this differently, that would be great.
But one to take me home would work just as well, too. “Have a good night.”
She stops me, grabbing my wrist with a gentle, congenial touch. “Juliette.” The way she says my name stops me.
Eye to eye, I stand with a woman who has always stirred up my most intimidated, jealous version of myself. Due to her sheer proximity to Ford.
“You have to trust him,” she says simply, her cool eyes searching mine.
“Juliette, please, trust him. Trust that you may have misunderstood what you saw tonight.” I look down at her hand, stroking over mine consolingly, and look back up at her, my jaw tight, unspoken words flooding my mouth as I stare at this woman who is asking me to trust Ford.
I smile at Elle, because I appreciate what she’s been tasked to do. Come in here and help. But it’s not going to work, because this isn’t how this moment goes.
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t need a third party to convince me to trust the man I love.
And of all the big moments I envisioned in my life, not one of them included one of these.
” I look around the pristine bathroom with marbled walls and recessed lighting, hand heaters and an attendant in the corner, keeping things tidy.
“A boozy meltdown then talk up from my boyfriend’s best female friend.
” I shake my head again, because it’s the only thing that truly feels right. “Have a good night, Elle.”
Right as I reach for the door, it swings open, Ford standing there, knuckles white as he keeps it braced open. His nostrils flare, and his chest heaves, and his pupils are wide and dark. My heart skips but falls, remembering the pain he’s caused, the turmoil he’s stirred up.
Elle looks between us, but ducks out, leaving us in silence.
Ford steps inside, peering beneath the stalls for ankles, or any sign of other people with us.
When he realizes it’s empty but for the attendant, he pulls his money clip out, unclipping several hundred dollar bills.
He hands her the money, and eyes her nametag.
“Sandra, ten minutes by the door. If anyone asks, we’ll be right out. Stuck zipper.”
She eyes the money, then me, but remains unmoving. I give her a nod to assure her that I’m okay, and she takes the money, shoving it in her pocket beneath her apron before pulling open the door and stepping out. “Fixing a leak,” she lies to someone as the door seals closed.
With my back against a stall door, Ford stands opposite me, his hand against the bathroom door.
We stare at one another for a long moment, and just looking at him is sobering.
He’s so handsome, so interesting with all of his many varied tattoos.
He’s truly a piece of art, like a statue or painting to be cherished. I really do love him.
I can’t help but sniffle at that realization.
Ford clears his throat. “When we talked about our relationship, and about moving forward with our long term plans together, we also talked about your career. I know that having a thriving career is something very important to you, and I also know that you’re fucking talented, Juliette.
So I thought I’d surprise you with a photography job you’d actually like and thrive at, unlike your last boyfriend. ”
I think of Harry and those stupid printer photos. The way he made me feel like it was good for me, and my career. Still, I stay quiet, because I’m not the one who needs to explain.
He runs his hand over his short cropped hair, shaking his head as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I wanted to show you that I’m the man that gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and this surprise was… I don’t know, the kickoff to that?”
Ford looks at me now, his gaze serious and worn, deep crescents pooling beneath his eyes. “I tried to get you into New York Fashion Week, as a photographer. I greatly underestimated my value because on the East Coast, if you could believe it, they don’t care about me,” he says, partially smiling.
“New York Fashion Week?” I repeat.
“It merges all of your strengths, fashion photography, and so I thought it would be a fucking perfect surprise. The opposite of a brochure gig. But they turned me down.” He rolls his neck. “My brother, too, those fucking snotty assholes.”
My heart is absolutely racing and this puffer coat is going to evolve from clothing item to my coffin in a minute if he doesn’t get to his point. Outside, Sandra defends her position as guardian of this awful moment. I stand there, wobbly and hot, wondering when I’m going to hear I’m sorry.
“Anyway, I thought fuck that. You deserve to photograph an incredible fashion event, and get your name out there. So I thought why don’t we just have a San Francisco Fashion Week?
Between Geo and myself, we know enough models, designers, donors, organizers–” he stops and just shakes his head.
“It’s in two weeks. At The Armory. And you’re the lead creative photographer.
I was going to surprise you a few nights before the event, to give you time to process and prep. ”
He steps closer, and this time, I don’t step backward.
Worry has him chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at me.
“Elle called in favors, too. Got the best designers, got the best caterers, everything. I cancelled on moving you in because tonight was the only night the designers and models could meet.” He takes my hand, and I let him, and I don’t stop the tears from falling, either.
“Juliette, sweetheart, some of the models are women I’ve had on my arm in the past. I told every single one of them that this show is all for you, for the woman I’m going to marry.
” He takes my other hand, and takes another breath-stealing step closer.
Between him and this coat, I think I may pass out.
“They’re excited to meet you. They’re grateful to be included.
They’re honored to be part of the first ever San Francisco Fashion Week.
” Ford drops his head for a minute and sighs, his broad shoulders going concave for a moment.
Then his eyes come to mine, intensity brewing the vibrant evergreen of his irises.
“I’m not good at this, not yet, but give me time. I’ll get better.”
My nostrils flare, and my soul hums through every part of me, alive and well now that I’m with him again. Now that it all makes sense.
“I should have told you what I was up to, and I’m so sorry you came to our house and saw something awful that made you feel terrible.
” Now we’re hugging and my cheek is on his chest, and I’m quietly sobbing as he strokes his strong fingers through my hair.
“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. It kills me to know that I hurt you, when all I want to do is make you feel good. ”
My lower half seizes and warmth trickles through me. Slowly, I peel away from him, blinking up as Sandra gives us a five minute warning.
“The woman I saw you with–” I start, briefly replaying the moment in my mind.
“She said ‘you look better than I remember’.” I only mention it to wrack his memory, and awareness flashes through his features.
“Ah, yes, Melanie. The last time I saw her was probably ten years ago. She, uh, actually dated Geo. For a year. She’s a model.
She was one of the women Elle got at the last minute to participate. ”
Heat spreads through my jaw and into my temples, rendering my face incapable of movement for a second. Ford’s brow furrows. “What?” He takes my face in his tender palms. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s why you were on the phone with Elle last night after we made love. You ran down to get the call.” I shake my head, feeling sick and stupid, because I should’ve trusted him. “I checked your phone,” I admit, “I know it was her that called you.”
His smile is slow and utterly devastating as he kisses me again, his tongue stroking mine with obvious hunger. “Fuck,” he rasps against my lips, voice rough with need. “I like that. I fucking like that a lot.”
I pull back just enough to search his face, my heart pounding in confusion and lingering doubt. Did I hear him right? “You–what?” I broke his trust. I went through his phone.
He shakes his head, chasing my mouth with frantic, messy kisses, teeth grazing my lips as his hands drift from my cheeks to my throat, then down to the collar of my coat.
“I like that you looked. That you want me this much. That you care enough to be jealous. I care about you that way, too. I looked at your phone, too. That day at Velvet when you went beneath the stairs with Magda.” Another kiss, this time along my pulse in my throat.
His fingers tighten possessively for a heartbeat before softening.
“Go through my phone whenever you want, sweetheart.” He rolls his hips forward, grinding the hard length of his cock against me, letting me feel every perfect inch of him.
“I'm sorry I made you doubt us. Doubt me. I should have told you everything. I just... I was so desperate to win you, I fucked it up.”
My hand slips between us, palming him through his pants, feeling him throb under my touch as he finds the zipper at my throat. He tugs it down slowly, one torturous inch at a time, his eyebrow arching in dark appreciation as more skin is revealed.
“You don't have to win me,” I whisper, my voice cracking as emotion swells in my chest. My bottom lip trembles. “I'm already yours. I love you, Ford. I'm so in love with you.”
He sinks to one knee as the zipper reaches its end, the coat falling open like curtains on a stage.
His gaze travels up my body, lingering on the lace teddy clinging to my curves, until his eyes lock on mine, unwavering.
My hand aches to feel him again, for the thick ridge straining against his slacks, but I can't move.
I'm pinned by the intensity and devotion in his stare.
“Look at you,” he breathes, voice raspy and reverent, nostrils flaring as he drinks me in. “It’s always been you. Even when it couldn’t be, it always was.”
Tears slip free, hot against my cheeks, and he doesn't look away as he gently pushes the lace aside.
One devastating wink, and his mouth is on me, hot and relentless.
Ford drapes my thigh over his shoulder, his strong hands gripping my leg to hold me open for him.
He puts his skilled tongue to use on my clit, working me over as I try to stay upright.
The sight of Ford Mercer on his knees, worshipping me like this.
.. it undoes me completely. “Ford,” I whisper, the alcohol buzzing in my veins, making everything sharper, more intense.
“Ford,” I say again, because his name is the only prayer I know right now.
I know I'm embarrassingly close already.
“I'm taking you home after this,” he murmurs between slow, deliberate licks, his tongue tracing my pussy lips like he's memorizing me.
“And you're going to do every filthy thing you planned tonight. You hear me, baby?” He sucks my clit gently between his teeth, making my knees buckle.
“I'm so fucking hard it hurts. All I want is to bury myself in this perfect pussy and lose control.” Two fingers slide inside me, curling just right, and I slap a hand against the stall wall, the other clamping over my mouth to stifle the moan tearing from my throat.
“I'm going to spread those gorgeous thighs,” he growls, pumping his fingers deeper, “and watch my cum leak out of you. Then I'm going to slide a finger into that pretty mouth, get it soaked…” He kisses my clit again, eyes burning into mine. “And push every last drop back inside where it belongs. Because it belongs inside of you, isn’t that right, Juliette?”
Ford’s words shatter me. Pleasure crashes through me in violent waves, my vision sparking white as I come undone around his fingers and mouth. I bite down on my own palm to stay quiet, body shaking, sweat slicking my skin as he coaxes me through it with low, filthy praise.
“You look so pretty when you come, baby.”
“Your entire body is trembling. You’re so horny. So slutty, but just for me, right? Just for Mr. Mercer?”
The formal name on his lips nearly kills me, sending fresh aftershocks rippling through me. But as the haze clears, reality knocks. Literally. Sandra's voice cuts through the door. “Time's up.”
Ford doesn't flinch. He carefully rights the lace between my thighs, pressing a tender kiss there before standing. “I'll clean you up properly at home,” he promises, voice soft now, eyes gentle as he zips the coat back up, shielding me again. He takes my hand, threading our fingers together.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let's go home.”