CHAPTER 28 Tatum Barker
“Oh no,” I whisper.
I’m rotating between scrolling TikTok and staring at the diamond on my hand when I should be going to sleep since I have a full day of planning for my own wedding tomorrow when I come across the video.
The video.
It was posted four hours ago. It already has close to a million views.
It’s from the sunset cruise we were just on, and the username is carlandmindy47.
Wasn’t Carl the bartender’s name?
Once he recognized Ford, he must have had his phone glued to us the whole night. We were a little distracted to notice.
It’s him. It’s me. I’m going viral. He’s going viral. My brain is short-circuiting.
I have to admit, though, it’s a beautiful video.
It’s literally Ford getting down on one knee, holding up a ring, and dolphins dancing and leaping out of the water behind him in the glow of the sunset.
The words across the video say, “Tampa Bay Beasts star proposes with dolphins watching!”
No wonder it went viral.
It continues on as he stands and I lean into him, watching the dolphins with him.
The caption reads, “But did she say yes?”
The comments ask and answer who the star is.
It’s making our announcement for us.
We’re really doing this.
I leap out of bed after watching it a full eight times, and I knock on Ford’s door. I don’t hear a reply, so I try the handle. It opens, and the room is dark. I walk over to the bed, and I find him fast asleep.
This could maybe wait until morning. I don’t have to wake him. It’s not like we’re going to do anything about it in the middle of the night.
But I also can’t sit with this by myself until morning.
I shake him awake. “Ford?” I whisper, and then a little louder, “Ford!”
“Huh? Wha—?” he mutters, and I can’t help a tiny nervous laugh.
“Ford, wake up.”
He’s clearly groggy, but I shove my phone at him anyway.
“Wake up and watch this video.”
He’s half-asleep still as he squints at the screen that’s replaying the video over and over on a loop, and he watches all fifty-four seconds of it a full three times before what he’s looking at seems to register. “Can’t this wait until morning?”
“No. Watch it,” I demand.
“What is it?”
“Apparently it’s our engagement video as filmed by Carl and Mindy forty-seven.”
“Who the fuck are Carl and Mindy forty-seven? And how did they get your number to send this to you?”
“They didn’t send it to me, Ford,” I say, not bothering to hide my frustration that he’s not snapping out of sleep quickly enough to understand what’s going on right now.
“It’s on TikTok. It’s going viral. Everyone is going to see it if they haven’t already, and we haven’t told anyone anything yet.
Including my family. Including your family. Including my ex, who is your brother.”
He sits up straight as the realization hits. “Oh. Fuck.”
“Right. Oh. Fuck.”
He rubs his forehead, and he reaches for his own phone. He taps around on it, and then he curses again.
“What is it?” I ask.
He flashes his phone at me, and I see he has seventeen unread text messages and five missed calls.
“Yeah? So?” I ask as I flash my own screen at him with my forty-two missed calls and two hundred thirty-one unread text messages. Don’t even get me started on the number of unread emails I have in my inbox. I just thought this was how people operate.
“I don’t usually have the little red bubble notifying me of how many missed messages I have. I always respond as soon as I’m able to,” he says quietly.
“So those are all since you went to bed?” I ask, and he nods.
“Well, are you going to deal with them?”
“Dammit.” He rubs his forehead. “I should’ve known better than to do something in front of other people that we weren’t ready to announce.”
“Who would’ve thought this would happen?” I ask, shaking my phone. “There was hardly anybody even on that boat. What are the chances?”
“Apparently pretty good.” He sighs. “I just wanted to get ahead of it and tell Archer first.”
“Then let’s call him and tell him,” I suggest.
He nods, and he picks up his phone. He dials his brother, and my heart pounds as I wait for him to answer.
He doesn’t.
That’s not unusual for Archer. He often ignores calls, especially from his family. But deep down in my heart, I have a pretty strong feeling that he already knows. He’s seen the video. Someone showed it to him.
Someone had to have shown it to him. Someone close to him who knows we were together for as long as we were.
He hangs up rather than leaving a voicemail. “There’s not much we can do tonight, so let’s just try to get some rest, and we’ll deal with it in the morning. I’ll check the texts and listen to the voicemails then.”
Right. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Because surely I’ll go straight to sleep and not freak out at all over this. My parents might find out before I can tell them. It’s late here—after midnight now, and I don’t want to call them in the middle of the night and wake them up. What good would that do?
Tomorrow. He’s right.
“Come here,” he says softly. He pats the bed beside him, and I climb in.
I should go back to my room and turn off my light.
But as I settle into the bed and Ford wraps me in his arms, I’m finding I don’t have any motivation at all to get up and walk out of here.
And so I don’t. Rather than tossing and turning in my own bed, I feel safe here in Ford’s arms. And as I drift off to sleep, it feels like everything’s going to be okay.
Only…it’s not.
Ford’s not in bed when I wake up. He’s an early riser, and he’s usually at practice by now, so being up early isn’t exactly out of the ordinary.
I pad out to the kitchen, and I find Ford sitting there at the counter with his head in his hands. My brows dip together as I realize how much this is affecting him.
I wonder how many views that video has now.
I walk over to him, and I set my hand on his back. He startles a little, and when he pulls his head out of his hands and turns to look at me, I see that his eyes are rimmed in red.
“Ford, what is it?” I ask quietly.
“Those calls and texts last night…they weren’t about the video.”
“They weren’t?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “My mother died.” His voice breaks a little as he says the words.
“Oh, no. I’m so, so sorry, Ford.” I wrap my arms around him as I feel torn between comforting him, being here for him…and being there for his brother.
I’ve never felt torn between them. Not in the time since Archer and I broke up, and not in the time since I’ve been doing…whatever this is with Ford.
But right now, they both need me. They’ll both be hurting, both be keeping it on the inside even though it’s okay to show it.
Ford doesn’t need this now. He’s got enough on his plate.
And Archer…he’s more sensitive than he lets on. Just because he wasn’t close with her doesn’t mean this won’t hurt. He’ll almost certainly go to the funeral, where he’ll have to see his brother, who’s newly engaged to his recent ex.
It’s too much, and for as much as none of this is about me at all, I have no clue how to handle it.
I want to be there for everyone, but I no longer fit where I used to. And now I’m wearing my dream ring from the brother I never expected to give it to me.
I pull back and go into planner mode. “What can I do? Have arrangements been made? Do you need me to notify anyone?”
He clears his throat. “Arrangements have been made. Next Tuesday. Everybody’s day off. Three days before Christmas.” His voice is flat. No emotion. Apart from the red-rimmed eyes, I have no real clue what he’s thinking or feeling right now.
But what I do know is that he needs to get back to Chicago a week from today, and he’ll have to face his family.
“Come with me,” he says softly.
I nod. “Of course.”
Scratch that. We will have to face his family. Together.
The next week passes in a flash in the whirlwind of wedding planning and funeral travel arrangements.
That viral video topped out at a little over two million views, and Ford has spoken to every member of his family except for Archer and his dad.
Well, and his mom, obviously. He’s the one who said it. Dark humor for the win, I guess.
We’ll be staying at the Bradley Mansion together in Ford’s old room, and I wonder how many of the other Bradley siblings will be staying there as well. As far as I know, Madden has a place in the city, and so do Everleigh and Liam. But Dex, Ford, Archer, and Ivy don’t.
I don’t allow myself to imagine how awkward it’ll be to share a space with Archer when I’m sleeping beside Ford, nor do I allow myself to imagine the looks I’ll get from the other Bradley siblings as we stay in the mansion.
It already feels messy, and we haven’t even boarded the plane yet.
I watch the game on Sunday from Ford’s couch since he’s away in Nashville. The Beasts fight hard, but without Grant Landry in the game, they come up short.
Ford is in a mood when he arrives home on Sunday night.
I leap off the couch to greet him at the door, and he gives me a halfhearted hug. I know they lost, which sucks, but usually he greets me with a bit more enthusiasm than this.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. It’s a stupid question, I know. He lost his mother. We have to fly to Chicago in the morning to help with her estate and be with his family and attend her funeral. On top of that, his team lost.
“We fuckin’ lost,” he mutters.
“I watched. You played so hard, Ford. You were amazing.”
“What good did it do?” he mutters. “Another season down the drain.”
“It’s one loss,” I protest. “It’s not the end.”
“We lost, the Fury won. They won last weekend, too. Our playoff spot isn’t secured, so we’ll have to play Wild Card Weekend, and without Landry, we will lose. No doubt about it. So, yeah. It’s the end. It’s over.”
I don’t really understand how it all works, but what I do understand is human emotion. I slip my arms around him. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard. But your team has amazing talent, and maybe you’ll surprise even yourself at the wild card game. And if not, there’s always next year.”
He sighs. “Yeah. Always next year.” He lets go of me and heads toward his bedroom, and I guess that’s it.
We sleep separately, and when morning dawns, I wake with a heavy weight on my shoulders and nerves constantly moving up and down my spine.
I guess it’s time to face Archer with this engagement ring on my finger.