by Vi Keeland
Eve shrugged as if the next words weren’t going to make me feel like she’d kicked me square in the nuts. “She’s taking it slow, of course. The whole dating scene is new for her.”
I swallowed and nodded, but my expression went from bullshit happy to wounded. “I gotta run.”
“Right.” Eve smiled like she’d enjoyed delivering the blow. “Your meeting nearby. I guess you have a lot of those. You should get to that. Take care of yourself, Ford.”
The entire night and next morning, I was fucking useless. I sat in on a meeting and read a few emails, but I couldn’t tell you what the hell either was about. Thankfully, it was Friday. I walked out of my office at only two o’clock.
My assistant looked up. “Late lunch today?”
I shook my head. “I’m going to take a ride over to the Long Island City property, just to check in. I won’t be back. If you need me, you can reach me on my cell.”
“Okay. Have a great weekend.’”
“Yeah. You, too, Esmée.”
I walked to work, but kept my car parked in a garage a few blocks from the office. Since it was still early, I managed to navigate through the city and out the tunnel in less than a half hour. My mind was stuck replaying everything about Valentina over and over again…from the time we spent together to what Eve had said last night. The only good thing was that being so sorry for myself about what I’d lost kept me from thinking about my father and all the shit that had gone down in Chicago.
It was a beautiful, warm day—we wouldn’t have too many of those left now that it was almost mid October. So I decided to get off the Expressway at the next exit and pull over to put the top down on my car. Some fresh air might help to clear my head on the half-hour drive. But as the roof lifted off the top of my car, instead of blue sky, all I saw was a billboard.
A giant damn Match.com advertisement that had to be three-stories tall.
I laughed sardonically and shook my head. Forget fate, it read. Take your future into your own hands. Join Match.com today. She’s waiting for you.
The universe is really fucking with me today.
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “She’s not waiting for me.”
I took a deep breath, put the car into drive, and turned on the radio—only to have the song end and a new one come on. One by the Backstreet Boys. I reached down to turn it off but couldn’t bring myself to push the damn button.
Forget fate? It was pretty hard to when it was busy throwing shit in your face.
***
Long Island Expressway West—Manhattan.
The large, green road sign up ahead showed an arrow pointing to the two left lanes. The sign next to it had an arrow pointing right.
Long Island Expressway East—Eastern Long Island.
Home was left. Yet when I came to the fork in the road, at the last second I jerked the car right and took the turn to get on heading east.
Why? I had no fucking idea. It just felt like I needed to go out to Montauk, for some reason. Maybe I needed to clear my head…I wasn’t sure. Though, going to the place that reminded me of my parents sham of a happy marriage and the woman I loved who’d just started dating another man probably wasn’t the best place to find clarity.
But once I got on the road, there was no turning back. For some reason, it was where I needed to be today.
The fall traffic wasn’t too bad, and I pulled down Old Montauk Highway just as the sun started to go down. I still had the top down, and the air temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees between the loss of daylight and the breeze blowing off the ocean. Montauk was a ghost town this time of year. Most of the driveways were empty as I passed, including the one next to mine—not that I’d expected anyone to be around. I pulled into our adjoining driveways, the sound of gravel crunching under my tires reminding me so much of summer.
With no suitcase or any bags at all, I parked and took a deep breath of the fresh air before getting out. Closing my eyes, I smelled the ocean and summer. Maybe this really was what I needed to feel better.
Though, that fleeting thought didn’t last long. In fact, it disappeared the moment I opened my eyes and started to get out of the car.
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck?
How had I not noticed that when I pulled into the driveway?
I’d come out here searching for something—maybe a sign that it was time to move on. But what I hadn’t expected was that sign to be literal.
Greeting me from the lawn next door was just that.
Sotheby’s
For Sale
Exclusive Listing
***
I felt like I was sitting in someone else’s house—like I’d walked into an Airbnb I’d rented for the weekend, rather than the back deck of a place where I’d pretty much felt at home my whole life. It was fucked up to feel like I didn’t belong here anymore when this summer it had felt like the only place I belonged. What a difference in a short period of time.
I’d considered going into town and picking up a bottle of, well, anything, in order to forget the sign outside. But I’d come out here for clarity, and drowning my sorrows would only make things blurrier.
So instead, I sat on the back deck and finished watching the sun go down. I looked over at the empty deck next door and then back to the spot where we’d first danced to her favorite music. She’d smelled so good that day. I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. I might’ve been nuts, but I could actually smell her scent, see her laughing as I took her in my arms, feel the way her soft body felt pressed up against mine. That’s what felt like home now. Without her, everything felt empty. It wasn’t the house or the place—it was me, inside.
I opened my eyes, and the most fucked-up thing happened. Right where I’d imagined myself dancing with Valentina, I saw my parents dancing—the same way they used to. My mother wore that white flowy dress she used to put on after she got out of the shower, and my dad had on navy blue swim trunks. They looked so goddamned happy. What a farce.
I sat outside, seeing things that weren’t really there for a long time, until it was so dark I couldn’t see the deck next door anymore. Then I went inside. I figured I’d crash here for the night since it was late. The end-of-season cleaning crew had stripped all the beds, so I went up to my parents’ room where the spare blankets were kept and planned to just sleep on the couch. But when I pulled a blanket down, something came tumbling down along with it—straight to the floor and smashed all over the place.
My parents’ Mason jars.
One of them, anyway. The other I saw tucked into the back of the closet behind the rest of the blankets.
Great. Just what I needed. Shattered glass to clean up and more memories of a life that was built on a lie.
I went to the kitchen closet to grab the broom and dustpan, and then back upstairs to the bedroom to sweep up the glass. God knows why, but I picked the folded little strips of paper out of the glass pile and set them aside on the dresser. Without looking at them, I wasn’t even sure whose they were—my mother’s or father’s.
After I finished cleaning up, I scooped up the papers and opened the top drawer to put them in there for the time being.
But as I went to close the drawer, I couldn’t do it.
I picked up one of the little slips and stared down at it in my hand. It felt like an invasion of privacy to read them, but it also felt like I was here for a reason and maybe this was part of it. Fate had been drawing me to this place all day, so why stop now. Wary, I slowly unfolded the first one and read.
Because I told you you’ve been hogging the sheet at night lately, and today you made the bed with two sheets so we could each have one.
I smiled. That sounded like something my mother would do for sure. Apparently, I’d gotten my father’s jar. That made it feel a little less intrusive—or I gave a shit about intruding on his privacy a hell of a lot less. I took another one from the drawer and unfolded it.
Because you swam with Annabella for an
hour this afternoon, when all you really wanted to do was sit on the beach and read your book.
That was nice. Although it didn’t make me any less angry with him for what he’d done.
Because when I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, you’d already put the toothpaste on my toothbrush for me.
I kept going.
Because you drove all the way to the Hamptons to get the book I’d been dying to read the day it came out and surprised me.
I started to get pissed at all the reminders of how good my mother was to my father. How the hell could he step out on her with how thoughtful she was? My jaw set tight as I continued to open them.
Because you forgave me when I didn’t deserve forgiveness.
I froze. Did she know? I’d just assumed since they stayed together that she had no idea. I knew couples got past cheating sometimes, but it had to be a struggle, and I’d never seen any signs of hard times. From the outside, my parents had a picture-perfect marriage. I picked up another slip…there were still a dozen or so left.
Because you watch The Bachelor just because I love it, even though you hate it.
My brows drew together. My father hated that show, yet he sat with my mother while she watched it every week. I went back and re-read all of the slips of paper I’d opened already. I’d assumed these were my father’s notes, but the closer I looked at the handwriting, the more I realized I’d been reading from my mother’s jar all along.
But what the hell did he have to forgive her for?
I kept going, feeling more wary than ever. The rest shed no more light on what had gone on between the two of them, until I came to the very last one.
Because while fate decided we came into each other’s lives, sometimes we have to fight to stay. And every day, you remind me we’re worth the fight.
***
I couldn’t sleep. The blood in my veins seemed to be pumping so fast that it made it impossible to even lie down. I paced back and forth in the living room. Everything was just so fucked up. My father cheated on my mother, maybe my mother cheated on my father, or maybe she’d done something else to hurt him. Maybe she knew about his affair and chose to stay anyway. Maybe she’d even had her own. I’d never know, and at this point, I didn’t want to know.
The most fucked-up part of it all was that I was looking at them to figure out how to live my own life. Before I’d gone to Chicago, I’d been so sure of things between Valentina and me. She’d been the one who wasn’t sure. And when I’d come back, she’d obviously decided we should give pursuing things after the summer a try—exactly what I’d wanted. And I was the idiot who pushed her away. Pushed her back into dating. I shook my head thinking of the photo of her and that guy on Instagram.
Great fucking job, Ford.
Nice work!
If you love something, set it free, and if it doesn’t come back, it was never yours.
That was a crock of shit.
If you love something and set it free—it serves you fucking right. You should’ve held on to that shit.
If she’s here next year—that will be a sign.
Yeah. I got a sign out here, alright.
For. Fucking. Sale.
I raked my hands through my hair and tugged at the roots.
What the hell was I thinking?
When you love someone, you don’t walk away. Ever.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuuuck.
I needed to see her.
Before it was too late.
If it wasn’t already.
Chapter 31
* * *
Valentina
You can’t force feelings to exist any more than you can force them to go away.
My study group get-together tonight was fun, and I was glad I’d decided to stop sulking long enough to go after all.
Allison hadn’t been able to find a full-time, tenure-track position, so she took a job as a district-wide permanent sub. Basically, she played sit-down-and-shut-up for six, forty-two-minute periods a day. She wasn’t thrilled, but supposedly an Italian teacher in her district was retiring at the end of the year, and she’d have a foot in the door for that. Desiree had taken a three-month maternity leave replacement. It seemed Mark and I had been lucky to get full-time spots with benefits for the year.
I’d taken the train to the restaurant so I could have a glass of wine or two, and after dinner, Mark offered to give me a lift home. My house was pretty much on his way, so it felt weird to say no.
When we pulled up in front of my house, he put the car into park and turned to face me. “Tonight was fun. I’m glad you decided to come.”
I smiled. “Me, too.”
He caught my gaze. “So…things with you and young blood ended?
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
Mark’s nodded. “You seemed happy with him.”
“I was.”
He nodded and looked away for a minute. “If things don’t work out with him, I’d love to take you out…as friends…or more.”
It seemed like an odd way to phrase it…if things don’t work out with him…after I’d just acknowledged we broke up. Mark saw the confusion on my face.
He lifted his chin toward my house. “Not sure he got the memo you broke up.”
I didn’t understand, but turned to look where Mark had been motioning. My heart skipped a beat.
Oh my God.
Ford.
He was sitting on my front porch in the dark.
“I…I…wasn’t expecting him.”
“I can see that. Are you going to be okay?”
Physically, yes. Mentally, probably not. “Umm…yeah…sure.”
I wanted to get out of the car, but I couldn’t seem to figure out how to move.
Luckily, Mark was a gentleman. While I sat there staring at the man sitting in front of my house, he got out and walked around to the passenger side and opened my door. Extending a hand, he helped me out of the car. Though my feet still didn’t move.
Mark smiled sadly. “I’d give you a kiss on the cheek, but I have a feeling that might get my teeth knocked out. So I’m going to just say goodnight. Do you want me to walk you to the door?”
“Ummm… No. I’m good.” I took a few hesitant steps and turned back. “Mark?”
He looked up.
“Thank you for being such a good friend.”
He gave a resigned nod. “Anytime, Val. Anytime.”
Somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other while Mark pulled away. Ford stood when I got to the steps.
“Hey.” His voice was raspy, and he looked a little disheveled, but God, he was so damn handsome. Any waning emotions I felt over losing him came barreling back. My pulse started to race full speed ahead just being near him, yet my mind was screaming Run the other way! He had such an intense, magnetic pull over me that it was like fighting gravity.
“What are you doing here?”
He looked down, and I thought it was an act of shame. Oh my God. Is this a booty call?
“Can we…go inside?”
My emotions were jumping all over the place. One minute I felt hope and warmth, and the next I was angry and cold.
I walked up the stairs, brushing past him. “Go to a bar, Ford. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding someone to go home with for the night.”
“What? No.” He reached out and grabbed my arm. “That’s…that’s not why I’m here.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I meant, could we go inside to talk?”
I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. And maybe a little fear. I nodded. “Okay. Come on in.”
My keys jingled in my hand, shaking as I dug them out of my purse and opened the lock. Ford followed me in.
I pointed to the living room. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right out.”
I took off my coat and hung it up, then headed straight to the bathroom. I needed a minute to get my head screwed on straight. Though five solid minutes didn’t even begin to do th
at, so I went back out just as discombobulated as I’d been when I walked in.
“Do you want something to drink?” I certainly needed something.
Ford shook his head. “No, thanks.”
I went to the kitchen and poured a very full glass of wine.
“Your house is really nice. I like the lampshades.”
That made me smile. He’d picked the one thing Ryan hated most. “Thank you. I forgot you’ve never been here.”
Ford was sitting on the chair, so I took a seat across from him on the couch. His elbows were on his knees, and his head was in his hands. I’d initially thought the disheveled look was because he was drunk, but now I could see it was stress.
“Is everything okay?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Oh God. I felt that freeze of panic. “Is Bella okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. She’s fine. Everyone is fine.”
“Okay…”
He continued to stare down at the floor for the longest time before looking up into my eyes. “Actually, that’s a lie. Everyone isn’t fine. I’m a fucking disaster.”
I set my wine on the table. “What’s going on? You’re making me nervous.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.” After a minute, he got up and moved to the couch next to me. He took one of my hands in his.
I attempted to hide the jolt his touch sent through my body by staring down at our joined hands.
Eventually, Ford put two fingers under my chin and lifted so our eyes met. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Just say whatever is on your mind.”
The two fingers he’d used to lift my chin were still resting beneath it. His thumb reached up and stroked my cheek, tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I closed my eyes. I wanted to hear those words more than anything, but I was afraid to believe they meant more than they did. The last month had been so hard, and I didn’t want to go backwards.
Ford squeezed my hand. “When I went to Chicago, I found out my father had been having an affair.”
