Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Colby needed the stiffest drink the bartender at Chess could pour.
After leaving Dram last night, she’d changed her flight home.
Rather than departing the morning after the photoshoot, she’d caught the last flight out that night, eliminating her time to stress bake.
Sure, the photoshoot had been exhausting, but she’d still been a ball of nerves the entire flight.
The packed bus from Logan, followed by the even more packed ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, hadn’t helped either.
But she’d needed to get home.
To Ford.
She needed to apologize for dodging his calls while she was gone.
Needed to explain how fear and imposter syndrome had gotten the better of her again.
Warn him that they may still do so from time to time.
But she needed to convince him that regardless of her fears, she wanted to give this thing between them a real shot.
She wanted more than one day at a time.
She wanted love, as scary as that four-letter word could be.
She hoped he wanted the same.
The elevator doors smoothly slid open, and a wave of sounds and smells hit her all at once.
Made her soul sing with joy like the AC had when she’d stepped inside her old home in New Orleans.
This wonderful place with its nineties grunge soundtrack, its comfort food goodness, its plaid everything was home now. And she was so glad to be back.
She skirted around the crowd of people at the host stand, snuck behind the hearth, and started down the corridor in front of the kitchen, headed to Ford’s office at the end to drop off her luggage.
Miller intercepted her at the expeditor’s station. “Col! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow!” He scooped her into a crushing hug. “I was terrified you wouldn’t come back.”
She smiled and hugged him tight. “Your best friend tried very hard to steal me away. Your ex-wife too.” Sloan, who was Miller’s childhood best friend and now married to RH’s CEO, had likewise given her the hard sell on moving back to California, trying to convince her to post up in Sonoma where Ezra and his husband operated an RH vineyard and restaurant.
“Fucking traitors,” Miller huffed, though his subsequent laughter belied the mock anger.
“Chef!” the sous called from the other side of the station.
“You cooking tonight?” Miller asked her, already rotating back around.
“Let Ada handle it,” Colby replied. “I just need a drink. The flight and trip out were brutal.”
“Ford’s already at the bar. He missed you,” he said with a wink. “We all did.”
“Missed you all too,” she said, smiling wider, those sprouts of hope from last night growing taller with Miller’s words.
She couldn’t wait to get to the bar and hold Ford in her arms again.
She continued down the corridor, waving at her friends and coworkers as she passed by on her way to Ford’s office.
One step inside and another wave of home—of love—washed over her. Ford’s citrus and sandalwood scent, the sun setting over the sound outside, the cool breeze of the AC inside.
More of that bright and wonderful joy.
Except when she glanced at Ford’s desk, worry began to darken the edges.
It was messy for Ford and a jar of peanut butter sat open by his laptop.
How much overtime had he been putting in?
She stepped closer to cap the peanut butter and couldn’t help but notice the stack of purchase and work orders, the spreadsheets with so much red ink, his desk calendar full of notes .
. . An X marked over where she’d scribbled Beard—Chicago on the square for June fifteenth.
Her chest tightened, and her stomach tossed like that one time she’d eaten a bad bombolone. She felt sick, like all the joy she’d felt returning home was being sucked out the window.
Was it still? Had she made a mistake turning down Greg’s offer? Or Sloan’s? Had she made a bigger one hiding her heart from Ford?
But first, talk to me, she heard Ford say in her head.
CC was chirping there too, reminding her she didn’t know what she was seeing, didn’t know why For had changed his plans for June fifteenth.
“Talk to him,” she mumbled to herself. “Tell him. Get the facts.”
She capped the peanut butter, then headed out of the office for the bar. She sped past the kitchen, not getting waylaid this time, and rounded the hearth, eyes immediately going to the bar.
And feet slamming on the brakes just as fast.
Ford was there, like Miller said. And beside him was Dr. Silver Fox, Miles’s hand on his back, his head leaned close, the two of them sharing quiet words.
He said something that made Ford smile, and the moment was so intimate that the bad bombolone in Colby’s stomach suddenly became a baker’s dozen of them.
“You know,” came Clancy’s voice from behind her, and she whipped back around, ducking behind the hearth for cover. “I found Ford in this exact same position a couple months ago.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“To go out there before you stole the silver fox away.”
Ford had taken Clancy’s advice that evening but it had led to a place neither she nor Ford had expected. But they’d only gotten there after a date with Miles. And that hadn’t been Ford’s first date with Miles either.
He’d said he wanted her instead. But he’d been interested in Miles first. And over the past ten days, she’d clearly made Ford think she was no longer interested in him.
Clancy gave her a nudge. “So go get your man.”
She bolted for the elevator instead.