CHAPTER 14 Ford Bradley
Fake it for the Day
“Turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, a salad…what am I missing?” Tatum asks me on Thursday morning. I had a short, early practice, and I’m already home with extra homework to review film ahead of Sunday’s matchup.
“Green bean casserole?” I suggest. When she wrinkles her nose, I laugh. “You don’t like it?”
She shakes her head vehemently as she feigns barfing.
“You’ve just never tried my GBC,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.
“They’re all the same. Follow the directions on the can. Dump green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and the crispy onion things, add some milk, and pop it in the oven. Who the hell eats that garbage? The soup.” She makes a face, and she actually does look a little green at the thought of it.
I shake my head with a laugh. “That’s not how I make mine.”
“Oh? Well, then. How, pray tell, do you make yours?”
“Can’t tell you, but it’s a secret family recipe.
” My grandmother on my mom’s side used to make it before she passed, and it was a staple in my childhood.
It’s green beans mixed with a creamy garlic parmesan sauce and actual bacon pieces in it, and she always made it for me because of my love of bacon.
When my grandmother died, my mother gave me the recipe card, and I always make it on Thanksgiving. It’s the dish I bring to the team gatherings, or sometimes I just stay home and make it for myself since I can’t exactly fly home to be with my family given my career.
And that’s why I happen to have all the ingredients on hand.
“What can I help with?” I ask.
“Besides your gross green beans, can you peel the potatoes?”
I shoot her a glare. “Hey, don’t judge them until you’ve tried them.”
She giggles. “Yes, chef.”
“Your mom is bringing sweet potatoes, and your brother’s bringing pies, right?” I ask.
She nods. “Yep. I need to toast the bread for my stuffing, too.”
“I can help.” We maneuver together around my kitchen, working in sync as we prepare the rather large meal. I move to put on some music, but she stops me.
“No music?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Parade. Always the background sound of Thanksgiving. And after the parade, the dog show.” She claps her hands together, and I remember her always having a soft spot for dogs.
I remember everything about her, and my feelings continue to grow despite everything.
It’s been nearly two weeks since that kiss, over a week that we’ve co-owned the manor, and it still hasn’t come up.
I want to do it again.
I haven’t. I’m not sure the feeling is reciprocal.
“Are you excited to spend time with your family?” I ask instead, trying to make safe conversation that has nothing to do with kissing.
“I haven’t seen Colton and Layla since Maddox’s baptism,” she says. “That was, oh…April. So seven months ago. Gosh, I bet Maddox has gotten so big since then. My parents came to Vegas to celebrate my birthday with me back in June, so still five months ago. It’s always a good time to see them.”
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
“How could you tell?”
I chuckle. “Because I’ve never seen an onion chopped as fine as that one.”
She blows out a breath. “I haven’t told them Archer and I broke up,” she admits.
“Why not?”
She lifts a shoulder as she sets down the knife. “I don’t know. I guess because it’s been so on and off for us all these years, and I didn’t want to hear the comments. Again? For how long this time? You know, that kind of garbage. I don’t know how to express that it really is over this time.”
“Is it?” I ask.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Not you, too.”
“No, not me. I’m just trying to understand where your head’s at so I can help you with them.” I tell myself that’s true. I ignore the nagging thought about how it’s really for my own information.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice is quiet, and she stares down at the onion while she talks.
“It was over a long time ago, Ford. But after a while, if things aren’t moving forward, and they’re not moving backward, you’re just sort of stuck.
And we were stuck a long time. We were content, doing our own thing, not really communicating, not really together even though we were still together.
So, in a lot of ways that are important to me, it feels like I’ve already moved on.
But it’s the optics, you know? They’ll see that we just broke up, and they’ll assume it means we’ll get back together, and it’s just…
not a conversation I want to have today. ”
“Then tell them you’ve moved on,” I suggest simply.
“With who?”
I lift a shoulder as if the answer is obvious because to me, it is.
Her jaw drops a little as she pieces together my meaning.
“With you?”
I press my lips together. “Too wild?”
She snags her bottom lip between her teeth as she tilts her head and thinks it over. “It might be the only way to get them to back down so we can just have a relaxing, fun day and enjoy our turkey in peace.”
“It’s the perfect solution, right? We fake it for the day for their benefit,” I say.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to kiss her again.
I don’t push it, instead turning toward the fridge to grab the green beans once I’ve peeled all the potatoes. I start to wash and cut those, too, and I survey the mess on the counter.
It’s a complete and total disaster. My kitchen has never seen a mess like this in all the years I’ve lived in this condo.
It’s creativity at work, and I think I love it.
I love having a mess in here when I’m used to everything being neat and orderly. I love that Tatum breathes life everywhere she goes.
I love her, and I’m not sure what the fuck to do about it, so I’m waiting for her to twist that knife a little harder and tell me yes so I can at least act on my feelings for one day in the name of pretense.
“Let’s do it,” she finally says.
I school my expression despite the thrill racing through me, and I nod. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”
I finish prepping the green beans, and I start cleaning the creative disaster without a word while she continues to work. Ten minutes before her family is set to arrive, she quickly changes her clothes and meets me in the kitchen once again.
She’s stunning in a brown dress, her long, blonde hair tied up in a twisty thing, her blue eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day, those freckles peppering her nose and cheeks adorably sexy even from across the room.
“So…exactly how are we doing this?” she asks.
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. Just act natural,” she suggests.
That shouldn’t be too big a challenge.
My doorman calls up to let us know we have guests, and I tell him to send them up. A moment later, we hear a knock at the door. We exchange a glance, and I let out a breath while she smooths down the front of her dress.
And then we open the door.
Mr. and Mrs. Barker stand there with Tatum’s brother, sister-in-law, and nephew behind them.
“Hey!” Tatum squeals, and the hugs and hellos commence.
“Ford, man, it’s good to see you,” her brother, Colton, says to me, giving me a bro-style hug. “This is my wife, Layla, and our son, Maddox.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking Layla’s hand. “How old’s your boy?” I ask.
“He turned one last month,” Layla says. She looks at the boy and makes a silly face at him. “Such a big boy!”
He giggles, and it’s clear they’re a happy little family.
I greet Mr. and Mrs. Barker next, dressed in a matching floral dress (her) and button-down shirt (him), and they insist I call them Caroline and Larry.
The place seems to have filled with joy with her family here, and it’s the sort of childhood I always wanted.
It’s simple. It’s small.
I see the way Tatum and Colton joke with each other, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. I love my family, of course. I wouldn’t trade any of my siblings for only one single sibling.
But sometimes it was hard to feel like I fit in.
Madden and Dex were six and four years older than me, respectively.
I was close to Archer before we split paths and he chose baseball.
Everleigh and I are close now, but we weren’t always, with her being three years older than me.
Liam was only three years younger than me, but it was a wide enough stretch that we were never particularly close growing up, and Ivy was a full nine years younger than me.
My parents were too busy with work and charity events to bother with things that might bond their children together.
So here I am, twenty-nine and wishing for a family like Tatum’s. It’s just one more thing about her that seems ideal. Joining a family like hers would be a blessing.
“Come on in,” I say once greetings are over and we’ve moved onto catching up in the entryway.
“Yes, right this way,” Tatum says, and she links her arm around my waist. I toss mine around her shoulder, following her lead, and her family follows us into the family room. Her mom sets down her casserole dish, and Layla sets down a pumpkin pie and an apple pie.
“It smells fantastic in here,” her dad says as we all take seats around the room, and all that’s left once her family sits is the single recliner chair.
I nod to it to indicate that she should take it, and she shakes her head and gives me a look I can’t quite decode.
“We’ve been busy prepping all morning,” she says, and I take a seat. She plops on my lap, and oh, fuck, I wasn’t expecting that. Being this close to her is doing things to me despite the fact that her family is here.
My hand sneaks up to her neck. I’ve always wanted to feel how soft her skin is there, and now I have my answer.
Soft enough to make my cock all the way hard.
I am so fucked.
“I’m just going to address the elephant in the room here,” her mom says before we jump into another conversation. “What’s going on between the two of you?” She circles a finger between her daughter and me.
Tatum glances back at me, and I chuckle.
“Oh, us?” I ask. I lift a shoulder as I try to casually act the way I think I’m supposed to act without looking like I’m acting.
“I guess I’ve always turned to Ford when things were tough, and I finally realized why. I’ve had feelings for him for a long time.” Her eyes are on mine as she says the words, and Jesus, how I wish those words were true.
Those words rip me open and leave me feeling vulnerable. Exposed. Ruined.
She ruined me long ago.
She turns back to her mother. “So when I turned to Ford this time after my split with Archer was final, I decided to finally act on how I think I always felt. And this feels more right than anything I’ve ever felt.
” She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips, one that’s so gentle and feminine that it nearly kills me.
There’s no way in hell she isn’t feeling my erection digging into her ass.
Her words may be stretching the truth, but mine are sincere. “And I felt the same. All those years I spent pining for Tatum were well worth it.”
Caroline clasps her hands together and holds them under her chin. “This is just so sweet! I always adored Ford,” she says, her eyes bright with tears as they land on me.
She did? Tatum’s mother always adored me?
“It’s true,” Larry says. “We’ve always been much more of a football family, right, big guy?” he says to Colton, slapping him on the back.
“That’s right. We all did our best with Archer. He’s a good dude, but I never saw it, you know? Not like what Layla and I have. I see that with you two.” He nods over at us.
Is this for fucking real right now?
Her entire family was rooting for me this entire time when I didn’t even know I was an option?
This is news to me, and it’s the kind of news I can get on board with.