Chapter 4
Ford
The moment I step into the coffee shop, I sense Harper’s presence. The low hum of conversation surrounds me, but it’s the prickling sensation at the nape of my neck that truly signals her nearness.
It’s always been this way, though, hasn’t it?
I didn’t arrive in town until high school, and Harper is the only woman who has ever affected me like this.
She’s the reason I became friends with Asher.
He was my only way to stay close to her without being labeled a threat to their relationship.
Still, I would have given anything to take her away from him.
I catch sight of her standing in line, waiting for her order, the space at the register clear. I nod at Tammy behind the counter when she asks if I want my usual, and I approach just as Betsy Johnson chimes in, “How are you holding up? It must be tough knowing your best friend is marrying Asher.”
And that’s Betsy Johnson, the town’s biggest busybody.
“Harper?” I call out a bit too loudly, pulling her into a hug while trying to ignore the electric thrill coursing through me at our touch. “It’s been ages. How have you been? I’ve been meaning to check in on you, see if your dad needs any help after his surgery.”
She looks up at me, her smile warm and grateful, the corners of her eyes crinkling in that way that always makes my heart stutter.
A strand of blonde hair falls across her cheek as she tucks the rest behind her ear.
“You know Dad,” she says, her voice carrying that familiar musical lilt.
“If you offer to help, he’ll find something for you to do—probably involving that ancient tractor he refuses to replace. ”
“Harper and Ford!”
I grab both our drinks and pass hers to her. She offers Betsy a polite smile, barely meeting her gaze as she says, “See you around, Betsy.”
We step outside, and she walks down the block to a nearby bench, sinking onto it with a heavy sigh.
She closes her eyes and bursts into laughter.
God, she’s stunning. Her long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, bright blue eyes sparkling, high cheekbones framing her face, and those plump lips I’ve fantasized about kissing for years.
She’s filled out beautifully since I last saw her.
Her curves are evident beneath her jacket.
What I wouldn’t give to show her how much I cherish everything about her.
“Do I look smaller? I feel smaller. Every time I walk through this town, someone asks me about Asher and Kenzie like they have a right to know how I feel or what I think. Hearing their names feels like someone’s chopping me off at the ankles.”
“It’s a small town,” I reply, taking a sip from my cup. “Everyone’s business is everyone’s business. You know this better than I do.”
She opens her eyes and meets my gaze. “Thank you, Ford.”
“You looked like you were drowning, wanting to avoid another chop at the ankles. But honestly, you don’t seem any shorter. You’ve always been a bit taller than average, so maybe you’re just adjusting.”
She laughs, nudging me playfully. “I want to hide away, but I think that sends a message I don’t want to convey. I just want to feel normal in my hometown again. I’m tired of being the girl who got dumped for her best friend.”
“It’ll pass. It wouldn’t be so bad if you hadn’t been gone for so long.”
“Yeah, like the rumor mill took a break when Asher moved back and hooked up with Kenzie?”
“Actually, it only lasted a couple of weeks. But once they announced their engagement, it picked up again. Honestly, it would have died down already if you hadn’t come home.”
Tilting her head back, she groans, giving me a perfect view of her neck. It takes all my willpower not to lean in and kiss it, to see if her skin is as soft as it appears.
“How am I going to get through these next three weeks? There’s only so much I can do for Gina’s wedding to keep myself busy and out of the public eye.”
“Don’t hide,” I advise. “Hiding will only add fuel to the fire. It’ll make everyone think you’re still pining and avoiding the two people who should be the ones hiding.”
Please don’t tell me you still love him. Please don’t say it. I can’t sit here pretending it doesn’t drive me crazy.
“You think so?”
“Do everything you can to look unbothered. It’ll make it less fun for them to talk about.”
She turns on the bench to face me, a smile breaking through. “Easier said than done.”
“You’re doing a great job of appearing indifferent to the jerk who left you for the most vapid woman in town.”
She laughs and lightly nudges my arm. “Be nice. That’s your best friend and my… former best friend.”
“Was anything I said untrue?”
“No, but that doesn’t change the fact I feel like the most pathetic woman alive.”
“Because Asher left you for Kenzie? The only student who ever openly admitted to getting on her knees for Mr. Samson to pass high school?”
That story still gnaws at me. I want to believe it’s just a rumor, but whispers circulated for years before I had him as a science teacher.
He lingered a bit too long near the girls in class, and there were always murmurs about the favors he expected in return.
But they were just rumors. Until Kenzie bragged about her actions as if it would win her popularity points.
Mr. Samson was fired, his wife left him, and he moved to the next town over to manage a liquor store. Kenzie became known as easy, and she reveled in it. That woman has always craved attention, and in the worst possible ways.
Now she’s trying to become Harper. She’s dyed her hair, mimicked her makeup, and even copied her wardrobe. They’ve always shared clothes as friends in their teenage years, but after years apart, this sudden mirroring feels eerily obsessive, like something from Fatal Attraction.
“Can we talk somewhere that’s not out in the open?” Harper asks.
“My shop’s out in the open.”
We step inside, and I lock the door behind us. She studies me with curiosity. “Why lock it?”
“Why not lock it?”
“Because it’s business hours.”
“But I’m with a client.”
Harper laughs and shakes her head. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m working for your father, and you’re related to him. So… client. Now tell me, why do you feel pathetic?”
Sighing, she leans on the counter, cradling her coffee as she stares into its depths. “I had nothing booked for this month that I needed to cancel. I lied to Gina, claiming I rearranged my schedule to be here for her, but I didn’t.”
“No one wanted to get married or engaged in December? That seems odd.”
Her engagement photos always amaze me. She captures those fleeting moments no one expects.
Browsing her website and social media transports me into her world.
The nervous anticipation of the proposer, the shock of the one being proposed to, and the pure joy when the answer is “yes.” No other photographer has that kind of impact.
“Oh, plenty did. I just didn’t book anything.”
“Why not?”
“Because I held out hope that Asher would come around. But then I saw the engagement announcement online, and I knew it was officially over. I should have accepted it already, but it didn’t feel real yet, you know?”
Jealousy simmers within me. Even after he cheated with her best friend and discarded her, she still clings to the hope that he might return? Why would she want that?
“Do you still want him?” I ask, holding my breath as I study her face, waiting for her response.
In those agonizing milliseconds before she answers—though it feels like hours—I pray she says no.
“I want the future I was building.”
“But you’re not in love with him anymore?”
Harper smiles softly, twisting her cup in her hands. “Asher was my first everything. We’ve been together since we were thirteen. There’s a part of me that will always love him.”
“But are you in love with him?”
Her gaze remains fixed on her coffee, but she tilts her head slightly. “I don’t know. It’s tough to sift through my feelings with all these other emotions swirling around.”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I still in love, or am I simply mourning the life I thought we were creating? Am I jealous, or just hurt by how everything unfolded? It’s hard to separate it all right now. It’s just a jumble of messy feelings.”
“I’ll stop by your place later to see if your dad needs anything. I meant it when I said that in the coffee shop,” I say.
Looking up, she seems taken aback. “Uh, yeah, he’ll appreciate that. I’ll… let you get back to work.”
I watch her leave, feeling guilty about how abruptly I ended our conversation. I needed her out of there before I said something I shouldn’t, something that might push her away.
Why does she still care about a man who treated her so poorly? Asher has always been that way. But now? Now he’s the embodiment of trash. He cheated on her with her best friend, gave Kenzie a cheaper version of the ring he once gifted Harper—which he pawned for cash—and stole her wedding dreams.
Why can’t she see that she deserves better? Someone who would move mountains for her if she asked. A man like me. Or just me.