Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
L andyn
It’s been a week since Ford spent his first afternoon alone with Poppy, and somehow, everything feels…normal. Easy, even. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he’s part of our life—not just mine, but Poppy’s too. Not that long ago, that felt impossible.
Poppy’s in the kitchen with me, standing on a stool beside the island and stirring a bowl of pasta sauce. She’s humming under her breath, hair tied up in a messy bun. She’s thrilled because Ford’s coming over for dinner. Again.
I was surprised at how readily I agreed to leave them on their own together.
They haven’t known each other for long, and I’m not used to being without her.
But Ford didn’t hesitate when he made the offer, and Poppy was over the moon about it.
I still felt the pull of guilt when I left the house, but I didn’t have any second thoughts about it.
When I returned home a couple of hours later, there was an even bigger fort in the living room and the two of them were curled up underneath it under a canopy of fairy lights.
Poppy was nestled into the crook of his arm, her head on his chest, one of his big hands resting gently on her back.
She was sound asleep, and he was watching her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever been entrusted with.
And something inside me cracked open.
He kissed the top of her head without waking her before climbing out of the fort and left the house with a look in his eyes I couldn’t shake. Poppy talked about him nonstop for the next two days.
As for the grilled cheese sandwiches, apparently, Ford’s were just as good as mine. Poppy had been very clear about that.
The rest of the week flew by. Work has been busy. Poppy’s schedule has been packed. My mom’s getting better—still not quite herself, but home from the hospital and feeling better every day. And Ford has been there through it all.
He helped me find a great after-school care program for Poppy and insisted I leave the office early until it started.
He texted me a link to a YouTube video about black and white spotted puppies with the message, “For Poppy?” He came with me to pick her up from school and take her to dance class, where he stood watching her like she was a world class ballerina—which he insists she very well could be one day.
We haven’t talked about us, about what we’re doing or where we’re going. Right now, we’re just focused on the two of them getting to know each other. That’s all that matters.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” Poppy asks, holding up the bowl of sauce proudly, a little smear of tomato sauce on her cheek.
I smile, reaching over to wipe it away with my thumb. “He’s going to love it, Poppyseed.” And in my chest, something aches—soft and hopeful .
There’s a knock at the door just as I’m draining the pasta and Poppy immediately darts toward it, yelling, “I’ll get it!”
I laugh under my breath. “Check who it is first!” I call after her, but I already know.
She swings the door open. “Ford! You’re here!”
“Wouldn’t dream of missing this,” he says, smiling as he steps inside, holding a paper bag in one hand. “I brought dessert. I was told donuts were non-negotiable.”
Poppy gasps and all but grabs the bag from him, already peeking inside. “You got the good kind!”
He winks. “Only the best for my girl.”
My girl . Something inside me flutters at the sound of it, but it’s quickly replaced by a deep jab of guilt because Poppy still doesn’t know who Ford really is.
“I have to set the table now,” she says, suddenly remembering her job.
She skips back into the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the hardwood floor.
I linger in the doorway for a second, drying my hands on a dishtowel as I watch her carefully place plates down—three of them.
She lines up the silverware with concentration, tongue poking out the side of her mouth as always.
Three place settings.
It hits me harder than I expect.
Ford moves to stand beside me, and I know he notices it too. The way his arm brushes mine doesn’t feel like an accident.
“She set the table for three,” I whisper, voice thick. “It’s just a small thing but…”
“It’s not small,” he says. “It’s a big deal.”
We eat at the little table by the window with the fading sun painting the sky in watercolors.
Poppy talks a mile a minute, telling Ford all about her teacher and how she’s learning to do the splits and how someone at school brought a tarantula for show and tell and how she is never going near that person again.
Ford listens like she’s reciting poetry.
After dinner, we each have one of the donuts Ford brought.
He pretends to steal Poppy’s last bite just to make her squeal, and when she gets chocolate on her chin, he wipes it off with a napkin like it’s second nature.
And somewhere between the laughter and the easy rhythm of conversation, the ache in my chest eases.
This? This feels like something real.
Like something we could keep.
After dinner, Poppy insists on showing Ford her latest drawings and he looks at each one very seriously, holding them up like they belong in a gallery.
She beams, soaking up every second. I would be happy if this night could stretch on forever, but when I glance at the clock, I clear my throat gently. “Alright, my love. Time to wash up and get ready for bed.”
“Do I have to?” she whines with a pout, curling herself into Ford’s side.
“You do,” I say, trying not to smile. “But if you hustle, I’ll read you two chapters tonight.”
She groans but drags herself toward the bathroom. At the doorway, she turns and asks, “Ford, are you staying for bedtime?”
My eyes flick to his, unsure how he’ll answer. But he just gives her a smile and says gently, “Not tonight, monkey. But I’ll see you really soon.”
“Promise?”
He places a hand over his heart. “Promise.”
She nods, satisfied, and disappears down the hallway. I let out a slow breath, moving toward the kitchen, but Ford stops me with a touch to my wrist. “You want me to hang out until she’s asleep?
He says it softly, without any pressure. I shake my head. “She’ll be out in five minutes flat. Girl ran on full energy today. She’s going to crash.”
He nods but doesn’t make a move to leave. I hesitate for a moment, trying to read the look lingering in his eyes.
“Mom! Ready!” Poppy calls out from down the hall, breaking the moment between us. I pull myself away and join her in her bedroom, where I tuck her in and read until her breathing evens out.
When I come back out, Ford is still here, standing at the window, looking out at the darkened yard. The dishes are done. The lights are low. And suddenly, it’s quiet.
Just us.
“You didn’t have to clean up,” I say softly as I walk into the room.
“I wanted to,” he says, turning to face me.
I cross my arms, suddenly feeling uncertain. The weight of everything we haven’t said yet feels like it’s humming between us, unavoidable.
“We need to talk.” We say it at the same time.
He wipes his hands on a towel, tosses it onto the counter, and walks toward me with a look I’ve come to recognize—serious and determined, but softer now, like he’s treading carefully.
“I don’t want to wait,” he says. “We need to tell her. Soon.”
I nod, but my throat tightens.
He steps closer, drops his voice. “She’s smart, Landyn. She’s going to figure out we’re keeping something from her, and the longer we wait, the more it might feel like a lie. Like we were hiding it from her. ”
“I know,” I whisper, eyes stinging. “I know.”
“I’m not saying we blurt it out tomorrow, but I can’t keep pretending I’m just some guy she likes hanging out with. She’s my daughter. I want her to know that. I want her to hear it from us, not piece it together on her own.”
I swallow hard and sink into one of the kitchen chairs. He looks at me for a moment before pulling out the chair beside me and sitting down.
“I know you’re right,” I say. “I do.” He waits, watching me closely.
I press my palms to the table, trying to keep myself grounded.
“I’m just scared, Ford,” I admit, my voice cracking as I swipe tears from my eyes.
“I’ve already messed this up for her. What if telling her now only makes it worse?
She’s… she’s everything to me. And I kept you from her.
That’s on me. I know that I did this to you both. ”
I’m so afraid. Fuck, it kills me that I’ve put Ford in this position. And Poppy, is she going to hate me? I don’t think I could take it if she looked at me with betrayal in her eyes. A sob escapes me, and I cave in like I’ve been punched in the gut.
Ford grabs me, hauling me into his lap and crushing me to him.
I pull back to look at him, surprised. He’s been so careful to keep distance between us ever since the night I told him about Poppy.
The concern on his face only makes me cry more.
I shift, creating space, knowing that I’m undeserving of his kindness and care.
But he tightens his grip on me, his hand moving to cradle the back of my neck, and I finally let myself sink into him, my head resting against his shoulder.
“Lan, this isn’t about blame, or secrets. Not now,” he says, voice low and rough. “That used to be the thing keeping me up at night. But now… it’s just her. It’s Poppy.”
He runs his hand over the length of my spine, over and over, while my tears stain his gray shirt.
He just keeps holding me, his heartbeat slow and steady, until I’ve cried the last tear.
When I do, he tilts my face up and when our eyes meet, I see that he’s not angry.
He’s not the man I lied to. He’s not the 20-year-old whose kisses made me dizzy, or the broody CEO who makes my heart beat double time.
He’s just Ford. Steady, strong, in control.
And right now, he’s quietly supporting me while my whole body trembles from the weight of what needs to be done.
“You know what’s killing me now? Thinking that when we tell her, it might hurt her.
That I might hurt her. That she’ll look at me and feel confused or betrayed or think I wasn’t there because I didn’t care enough to show up And I can’t—” his voice catches.
“It kills me, Lan. I can’t be the reason she feels like that. ”
I nod, understanding exactly what he means. How he feels.
We stay like that for a long time, his arms wrapped around me, my head on his shoulder. We’re both quiet now, but somehow, it feels like we’ve said enough. Or maybe just enough for now. We heard each other. Really heard each other. And that alone settles something inside me.
Eventually, Ford shifts me gently off his lap and stands to leave. I walk him to the door, watching as he descends the front steps slowly, pausing at the bottom to glance back at me. I lift a hand in a soft wave. He gives me one in return.
I should let it be. Let him go. Let the moment end.
But I can’t.
When he reaches his car, he looks back again—and that’s when it hits me. It doesn’t feel right, watching him walk away. It rattles something loose inside me.
Panic blooms fast and hot in my chest. What if he didn’t hear the things I didn’t say? The ones I couldn’t bring myself to voice?
I don’t think. I just move. Down the porch steps and across the walkway, my feet barely touching the ground. When I reach him, I throw myself into his chest with enough force to make him stumble back a step, a soft oof escaping his lips as his arms instinctively come up around me.
I cling to him, wrapping myself around him like I might never get another chance. I bury my face in the warm, familiar spot where his neck meets his shoulder, breathing him in like oxygen.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice already thick. “For not shutting me out when you have every reason to. For being patient and kind to me. For showing up for her—” my voices catches. “For loving her.”
He’s still, then one arm slides up the back of my neck and I feel the scratch of his jaw against my temple.
“Loving her is the easy part of all of this.”
I let go of him and stand here in the dark, hugging my arms around my stomach as I watch him drive away.