20. Madison
— ? —
Madison
I was in the bridal suite helping Greer with her veil when Ford knocked on the door.
Emery opened it and he stood there in his suit, arms full of flowers, looking slightly overwhelmed by the chaos of hairspray and champagne flutes scattered everywhere. His eyes found mine before he even stepped inside, and something in his expression made my breath catch.
“Graham wanted me to bring these up,” he said, but he was looking at me. “He said you’d know what they mean.”
Greer crossed the room and buried her face in the bouquet. Her voice wobbled. “Tell him I love him. Tell him I’ll see him at the altar.”
“I’ll do that.”
He still hadn’t looked away from me. Emery took the flowers from Greer to put them in water, and he stepped closer, pulling a small velvet box from his jacket.
“You look incredible.” His voice was rough. “I don’t have words for what you look like right now.”
My cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”
“Those are from Graham, for Greer.” He gestured at the flowers. “But this is for you.” He held out the box. “From me.”
I opened it. A thin gold bracelet with a single pearl, nothing like the elaborate pieces he used to buy when he was trying to apologize for missing dinner.
“It reminded me of you and I couldn’t leave without it. Not because I’m trying to buy anything. Just because it was beautiful and you deserve beautiful things.”
His eyes were bright, almost glassy.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice came out smaller than I intended.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He closed the box in my hands. “I just wanted you to have this.”
He left before I could respond. Emery appeared at my shoulder immediately.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at the bracelet, then fastened it around my wrist. “I really don’t know.”
The ceremony started and I stood in my place with the other bridesmaids, watching Greer walk down the aisle with Grace holding her train.
Graham’s face when he saw her made my chest ache, that look of pure wonder, like he couldn’t believe she was real.
I remembered Ford looking at me like that.
Ten years ago, standing at our own altar, watching me walk toward him in white. His eyes had been wet.
He’d mouthed the words “you’re beautiful” before the minister even started speaking, and I’d felt like the luckiest woman in the world.
Where had that man gone?
The minister began, and I tried to focus on my best friend’s happiness instead of my own grief. But then Graham started his vows, and everything I’d been holding together cracked wide open.
“Greer.” His voice was rough with emotion.
“I wasted years. I let other people come between us… I thought I’d lost you forever.
” He squeezed her hands. “I can’t get that time back.
But I can promise you that I’m different now.
I’m here. Completely here. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing up for you and our daughter, the way I should have from the beginning. ”
Tears slid down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them.
I looked across the aisle without meaning to, and Ford was already looking at me.
His eyes were wet too, his expression raw, and when our gazes locked, I felt it in my whole body.
He wasn’t just hearing his best friend’s vows.
He was hearing everything he should have said to me.
I remembered our own vows. Ford’s voice steady, promising to love me, to choose me, to be present. I’d believed every word.
And then he’d spent ten years breaking every promise while I pretended not to notice.
I looked away from him because I couldn’t bear it anymore.
I stared at the flowers, at the candles, at anything except his face. But I could still feel his eyes on me, and when Greer and Graham kissed and everyone applauded, the sound felt very far away.
The reception was a blur of champagne and music and toasts that made everyone laugh.
I smiled until my face hurt, hugged Greer a dozen times, danced with Spencer and with Graham’s friend and with every groomsman except Ford.
But I always knew where he was. Across the room, watching me. At the bar, his eyes following me over the rim of his glass. On the dance floor with someone’s aunt, but looking at me over her shoulder.
Then the bridal party dance was announced and there was no avoiding it anymore.
He crossed the floor to meet me, his hand extended. “May I?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice with me. From now on, you always have a choice.”
I took his hand. His palm was warm, and when his other hand settled on my waist, my body remembered a thousand dances just like this one.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said as we began to move.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been making up every excuse to stay away.” He pulled me closer as we turned, close enough that I could feel his breath on my temple. “I saw your face during the vows.”
“Everyone cried during the vows.”
“Not like you did.” His thumb traced a slow circle on my waist. “You were thinking about us. About our wedding. About everything we promised each other.”
“Can we not do this here?”
“I was thinking about it too.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for me. “I was standing there listening to Graham talk about wasted years and second chances, and all I could see was you. All I could think about was how I had everything and I threw it away.”
“Please don’t.”
“I remember our wedding like it was yesterday.” He was holding me so close now, my chest pressed against his. “You were so beautiful I couldn’t breathe. And when you said ‘I do,’ I promised myself I’d spend the rest of my life deserving you.”
“You didn’t keep that promise.”
“I know.” His forehead touched mine. “I know I didn’t. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for every moment I wasn’t there, every time I made you feel invisible, every single way I failed you.”
We weren’t really dancing anymore. We were just standing there, pressed together, swaying slightly, his hands on my waist and mine on his chest.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “I close my eyes and you’re there. I wake up reaching for you. I’ve spent months trying to give you space, trying to prove I’ve changed, and every second of it has been torture because all I want is to hold you like this.”
“We’re divorced, Ford. We’re not together, not anymore.”
“I don’t care.” His hands tightened on my waist. “I don’t care about papers or lawyers or what anyone thinks. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you, even when I was too stupid to show it.”
My heart was pounding against his chest.
“Tell me you don’t feel this.” His lips brushed my temple. “Tell me you don’t feel anything and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want.”
I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t lie to him, not with his body pressed against mine and his heart pounding against my palm.
“I feel it,” I whispered. “I feel everything and it scares me.”
“I know.” He pulled back just enough to look at my face. “I know it does. But I’m not going to hurt you again. I swear to God, I will never hurt you again.”
I don’t know who moved first. Maybe him, maybe me, maybe both of us at once. But suddenly his mouth was on mine and we were kissing in the middle of the dance floor with everyone watching.
His hands came up to cup my face and he kissed me, like we had all the time in the world, like there was no one else in the room.
I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him closer and kissed him back with everything I’d been holding in for months.
“Fuck it,” he said against my mouth.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me off the dance floor, through a side door into a hallway. The second the door closed behind us he had me pressed against the wall, his mouth on my neck, my jaw, my lips again.
“I need you.” His voice was wrecked. “I’ve been dying without you.”
“Then take me somewhere.”
He pulled me down the hallway, trying doors until one opened into a small room with a couch and low lighting. He barely got the door closed before I was on him again, my fingers tearing at his jacket, shoving it down his arms.
He yanked at his tie, loosening it enough to pull over his head, and I was already working on his shirt buttons, my hands shaking.
“Too slow,” I said, and ripped the shirt open. A few of the buttons scattered across the floor and he laughed against my mouth, a low rumble that vibrated through me.
“That was expensive.”
“I don’t care. You have enough money to buy another.” I ran my hands over his bare chest, relearning the planes and ridges of him. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
He spun me around and found my zipper, dragging it down slowly, his mouth following the path of newly exposed skin.
He kissed the back of my neck, the curve of my shoulder blade, the dip of my spine. The dress fell to my feet and I stepped out of it, turning back to face him in nothing but my strapless bra and underwear.
His eyes traveled down my body and back up again, dark with want. “Christ. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
“Stop looking at me and touch me.”
He reached behind me and unclasped my bra with one hand, the way he’d done a thousand times before.
It fell away and he cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they hardened under his touch.
I arched into his hands and he bent his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder when I moaned.
“I’ve missed these,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve missed every inch of you.”
His mouth moved to my other breast while his hand slid down my stomach, over my hip, between my thighs. He cupped me through my underwear and I gasped at the pressure.
“Already so wet.” He stroked me through the fabric. “Is this all for me?”
“It’s been for you for months. I just wouldn’t let myself admit it.”
He groaned and dropped to his knees in front of me, hooking his fingers in my underwear and pulling it down my legs. I stepped out of it and he looked up at me, his face level with my hips, his hands gripping my thighs.
“I need to taste you. Please, Mads, tell me I can.”
I simply nodded.