Useless.
Ford’s already out of the truck, walking around to my side. I open the door just as he reaches me, still trying to make sense of this.
“You brought me to a shop?” I ask, brows raised, voice light. Not ungrateful, just genuinely confused.
He grins and threads his fingers through mine as we walk towards the shop, his grip warm and steady.
“Just trust me.”
The shop door jingles softly as we step inside. It smells like fresh bread and something herbal—maybe the potted rosemary by the entrance. The lighting is soft, a little dim, and the shelves are stacked with local goods, handmade soaps, jars of jam, and produce that looks like it came straight from someone’s garden.
Ford leads me down a couple of aisles, and I’m still completely lost. I glance around, trying to piece it together. What is this?
He stops in front of a drinks fridge and turns to me. “Want something to drink?”
“Umm … okay?” I say, still trying to figure out what the surprise is. Is this it? A drink?
I turn my head, scanning the fridge, and then I see it.
Coconut water.
My eyes go wide.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, picking up a carton and holding it to my chest like it’s something sacred. “I’ve been craving this ever since I got here, Ford. You know, our town doesn’t have it anywhere!”
“I know …” Ford says, his voice low and steady. “Missy might’ve mentioned how bummed you’ve been about it.”
He smiles knowingly.
“So I did a little digging and found this store.”
I stare at him with my heart swelling. It’s just coconut water, but it’snotjust coconut water. It’s the fact that he thought. That he cared enough to drive all this way. That he listened.
Without thinking, I throw my arms around him, hugging him tight. Then I press a quick kiss to his cheek, soft and grateful. “Thank you, Ford,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion.
He pulls back slightly, hands resting gently on my arms, eyes warm and steady.
“There’s one more surprise,” he says, giving my hand a gentle tug and guiding me around the corner to another aisle. I follow, still clutching my coconut water, heart already buzzing from the sweetness of it all.
And then I stop dead in my tracks.
Right in front of me is a small section of British foods. Chocolate bars stacked neatly, familiar crisp packets in bright colours, tins of baked beans, biscuits, even a few jars of marmite. It’s not a huge display, but it’s enough. More than enough.
My breath catches.
It’s not that I miss England, not really. Not the place. Not the memories. But this? These silly little snacks, these familiar wrappers? They’re the only things I’ve missed. The only things that made me feel just a little out of place here.
And now they’re right in front of me.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up before I can stop it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Ford… this is …” I step forwards, my fingers grazing the wrappers. “I haven’t seen half of this stuff since I got here. I didn’t even know places like this existed. I’ve been craving these for weeks too.”
Ford leans against the shelf beside me, watching me with that soft, amused smile.
“Missy also said you’d been missing the snacks. Seemed worth the drive.”
I turn to him, heart full to bursting.
