Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
F ord
It’s been three weeks.
Twenty-one days of waking up with the sound of Poppy’s giggles echoing in my head and going to sleep making plans of things I want to teach her, places I want to show her; of crayon drawings pinned to the board in my office and tiny pink socks showing up in my laundry; of brushing popcorn out of the couch cushions after movie nights and realizing I couldn’t care less about the mess.
I’d sit through a dozen animated princess films and clean up a thousand kernels just to see her curled up on the couch between Landyn and me.
Poppy’s been spending more time at my place. She’s taken over the guest room and turned it into a shrine of glitter and picture books, a second home for her stuffed bunny, Cinnamon. I haven’t moved a thing.
Landyn and I… if you didn’t know any better, you’d think we’re just like any other family.
Sunday mornings at the farmer’s market. An afternoon at a berry farm where Poppy’s face and fingers got stained deep red and Landyn la ughed so hard she cried.
P’s dance recital where I showed up with flowers and left with a lump in my throat because she looked like sunlight twirling across the stage.
And yet, not once have I kissed Landyn
Not once have I let my fingers linger too long when they brush hers in the kitchen, even though I want to. Not once have I closed the distance between us when she looks at me like maybe, just maybe, she wants me to.
We haven’t slept under the same roof or shared coffee in the morning.
We haven’t crossed any lines. Not because I don’t want to.
Hell, it’s all I want. What it would be like to kiss her in the quiet of her kitchen while Poppy sleeps upstairs.
To touch her like I used to. Like I’ve never stopped wanting to.
But this thing between us—this delicate, fragile thing we’re rebuilding—it has to become solid.
It has to be steady. For Poppy. For Landyn. For me.
Still, every day the betrayal hurts a little less and every day, I fall a little harder.
It’s in the way she looks at me when I walk through the door. The way she still laughs at my dry humor, even when it’s been a long day and she’s tired. The way she leans toward me without realizing she’s doing it, like her body remembers what we were before everything broke.
The pain is still there. But so is something else—something warmer, deeper, steadier. And somewhere in the middle of it all, it seems like we are finding our rhythm.
From the backseat comes the sound of Poppy humming some made-up tune she’s been singing since we pulled out of Landyn’s driveway 10 minutes ago.
She’s swinging her legs, clutching a hand-drawn card she made for her grandma, and asking every 30 seconds if we’re almost there.
Landyn’s mom is thankfully feeling a lot better since being on her new medication.
When Lan asked me if I wanted to join them on their visit today, I hesitated, not wanting to crowd in on their family time.
But when she insisted it was her mom’s idea, I accepted the invitation.
It has been years since I’ve spent time with Carolyn Sinclair, a woman who was always nothing but kind to me, even when I had next to nothing.
“We’re still two blocks away,” I tell her for the second time, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
“That’s what you said last time!” Poppy says, folding her arms across her chest.
“That’s because last time was only one minute ago,” I tease her. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there really soon.”
Beside me, Landyn’s turned slightly toward the backseat, one hand resting on the console between us, the other brushing a piece of lint off her jeans.
She’s been quieter than usual, but not in a bad way.
Just thoughtful. Watching. Absorbing this new version of her life that I’ve only recently been let into.
Poppy lets out a squeal as soon as I pull into the driveway and starts unbuckling her seatbelt before we’ve even come to a full stop.
“Hold up, little monkey,” I say, laughing. “We need to park first.”
Landyn reaches into the back to help her with the buckle. “You excited to see Grandma and Grandpa?”
“Yes! I have so much to tell them. And Grandma said last time that I could braid her hair if she’s feeling okay!”
Landyn’s hand brushes against mine as she turns back to the front seat.
She looks at me and I can see the hesitation in her eyes.
As we get to the front door, Poppy barrels ahead, knocking fast and loud.
Carolyn opens it just a few moments later, and the way her face lights up when she sees us—all three of us—sparks a familiar sensation in me.
It’s hard to pin this feeling down. Loss, maybe.
An ache for something I never had. Landyn has never once had to doubt her parents’ love for her.
It’s written all over her mom’s face, even now.
That’s something I didn’t get to experience when I was growing up, but I’m so grateful that Poppy has it in her life.
“Look at this crew,” she says warmly, stepping aside to let us in. “I must be pretty special to have all of you on my doorstep.”
“You are,” Landyn says, kissing her cheek gently.
“You are!” Poppy echoes, wrapping her arms around Carolyn’s waist.
“Ford,” she says, smiling as she runs a hand down Poppy’s soft curls. “I’m so happy you came.”
“Of course,” I say. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s really good to see you too.”
Poppy holds up the card she’s been clutching ever since we left the cottage. “I made you something!”
Carolyn clutches her granddaughter to her chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”
We step into the cozy sunlit living room. Nothing’s changed—same light-beige floral curtains, same mahogany side table, even the same hummingbird coaster I remember from years ago. It smells like chamomile and lemons, and I can already feel my shoulders relaxing.
Carolyn takes a seat and pats the cushion beside her for Poppy. Landyn’s dad, John, joins us in the living room, sinking into the La-Z-Boy chair that’s always been reserved for him. “Ford, good to see you, again,” he says with a warm smile.
“Come, tell me everything.” Carolyn says as Landyn and I take our seats on the old sofa.
We end up a little too close, but neither of us moves.
Poppy doesn’t miss a beat, launching into a barrage of stories about her week, complete with wild hand gestures.
Carolyn hangs on her every word like the world depends on it as John disappears into the kitchen.
He returns with a couple of beers and sets a pitcher of lemonade and a few glasses on the coffee table.
“I’ve been thinking,” Carolyn says when Poppy finally comes up for air a few minutes later. “I’d really love to spend the afternoon with Poppy. I think Grandpa would like that too. Just the three of us. If you two don’t mind.”
Landyn’s brows lift in surprise. “Mom, I don’t think that’s a good idea?—”
“I’m feeling good today, and your dad is here too,” her mom says, and this time I see the conviction in her eyes and maybe a twinkle of mischief. “And I have been missing my time with her. Besides, I’m sure you two haven’t had a moment alone in weeks.”
Landyn looks at me, and something unspoken passes between us. I nod, keeping my voice quiet. “If you’re sure, Carolyn. We could grab a coffee. Take a walk.”
She waves us off. “Go. We’ll be fine.”
Poppy is already dragging out a deck of cards from the drawer. “Grandma’s gonna teach me Go Fish! Wanna play too, Grandpa?”
“You’re in good hands, then,” I say, smiling at my daughter and her grandparents.
Landyn’s fingers brush mine as we stand. She gives her mom a hug and kisses the top of Poppy’s head. I do the same.
“Ready?” I ask as we step onto the porch.
Landyn nods. “I think so.”
“There’s a great place around the corner,” she says as we pull out of Landyn’s parents’ driveway. “They make this cake that is so decadent. It’s basically just a slab of pure chocolate.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Five minutes later, we pull up to a tucked-away café with a bright fuchsia-pink door. We debate over the incredible desserts on display at the counter but in the end order a slice of chocolate cake to share and two espresso macchiatos.
“This place is great,” I say after we’ve found an empty table at the back of the café.
“It’s been while since I’ve had a good piece of chocolate cake.
Me and my brothers…we all used to ask for it for our birthdays.
Our mom made us one from scratch a couple of times when we were little.
It was gone in a day. Sometimes in a few hours. ”
Landyn smiles, and it hits me square in the chest. “You never told me that before,” she says with colour in her cheeks. “I like knowing that about your past.”
There’s a pit in my belly as memories of my mom come rushing back to me. Love. Longing. Heartache. They all twist together, heavy and restless inside me. I smile as I bite into a forkful of the rich dessert. “Okay, you’re right. This is amazing. I’d take chocolate cake over steak any day.”
She laughs and for a second, it feels like nothing’s changed. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear then dips her fork into the cake and lifts it to her mouth, the movement slow and deliberate, like she’s savoring every part of it.
Her lips part slightly, just enough to show the soft pink of her tongue and the flash of white teeth. Then—fuck me—she closes them around the bite like it’s the first real pleasure she’s had in weeks. I watch her lick a crumb from her finger and I swear time bends.
My cock stirs.
“Mmm,’ she hums as she chews. It’s not even a sexual sound, but my body doesn’t know the damn difference. There’s icing on the corner of her mouth. I want to lean in and lick it off.
Jesus.