“True. Maggie was a saint to stay with us as long as she did, but then she had her own grandkids…” His voice trailed off wistfully at the end. “But have you seen Scotty?” His brow furrowed.
I knew his mom’s lack of interest in her kids’ daily doings, unless it affected her place in society, had always infuriated Ford, but it was wild to see that emotion still playing out on his adult face.
I shook my head in response to having seen his brother but didn’t admit I knew when Scotty was arriving by the cavalry which followed him around, and avoided his presence.
Scott Conway was every bit as handsome as his older brother, but where Ford was often playful and flirty, Scott was reserved and coarse. His personality often felt like sandpaper on dry skin. Not your typical birth order traits, and I always wondered if Ford Jr. ever wished his namesake was more like him. Ford once told me he felt like he had to be the fun parent since neither of his parents were much fun. With a family steeped in politics since before the Kennedys, I imagined fun fell to the very bottom of the totem pole.
I decided to get back to the point. “Moving on, I can’t wear contacts anymore. One bad infection, and just the thought of sticking my finger in my eye has me twitching. Glasses it is. As for me, again, I grew up, dyed and straightened my hair, went to a couple of graduate classes, started working with a—”
I cut myself off. Ford didn’t need to know everything. In the past, I’d told him every morsel of truth, but I’d learned the hard way that men were not attracted to truths.
“I liked you before, just saying.”
Of course he was just saying. He’d liked me enough to be my friend, but anything more was out of the question.
“Anyway, I’m sorry about your dad. I know there’s not much I can say, but I’ve been thinking of your whole family.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, and his gaze turned downward. “Feel bad I’ve been out in LA all these years, but Scotty’s been here. Well not here, but close enough, in DC. He’s the one following in Dad’s footsteps anyway. Billy and I flew in a few days ago, but we needed to do a few media opportunities with Mom and Scott. Never got out here until yesterday. I don’t know why we did that—lingered by home. It’s only an hour away. We could’ve come here. Anyway, it’s not looking good.”
Of course I’d seen the brother-sister duo land at the airport (on TV) and head straight to a fundraiser Scotty was speaking at (online). There was their beautifully Botoxed mother, Beatrice, by their side. I’d wondered why I hadn’t seen her much at the hospital the last few days. She must’ve gone home for the media opportunity instead of staying near the hospital as she had been.
I’d secretly hoped Billy and Ford would’ve visited that same evening and went on their merry way back to LA, but apparently not.
Ford Conway was still very much in my neck of the woods, standing right in front of me, looking aged andfine AF, and here I was still feeling like dumpy little Annie.
“Congrats to Billy on the award, by the way.” Willa—who was named for her grandmother, and had declared herself Billy when she was in the second grade—was three years younger than Ford and me. She’d won an award for best actress recently for a movie about a blind family. She obviously had depth as an actress since she’d never felt a day of adversity in her life other than the family name she’d been given and promptly changed.
Ford nodded. “She deserved it, and you know I mean it since I didn’t produce that film.”
“I know.”
“Have you seen my movies?” His left eyebrow raised like it always had when he asked a question. It was the slightest lift only someone who knew him well would recognize. Someone who’d been obsessed with everything Ford Conway.
Had I seen his movies? That was a question I wasn’t answering out loud. I’d seen all ten action-packed blockbusters so many times, I knew most of the lines by heart.
Instead, I leaned in and threw an awkward arm around Ford Conway. “You probably need to get back to your dad,” I said into his shoulder, gulping back as much of his scent as humanly possible. “It’s been so great running into you.”
I rushed through my words, nearly choking on his woodsy cologne. If I died with his scent clogging my lungs, I wouldn’t mind. Ford Conway was a hunk of a forty-four-year-old man, who’d divorced his Hollywood shoe designer wife five years ago (I also read online), and was ripe for a woman in his bed…who wasn’t going to be me.
“Say hi to Billy,” I said while breaking free from his large frame and forcing myself to turn toward the elevators and my office one floor above, completely forgetting to drop a document off with the head nurse, which was why I’d come to the Conway Wing at all. I’d have my assistant run it down and explain where to sign.
As the elevator dinged, I turned and looked to where I’d run into Ford, expecting him to be long gone. Except he wasn’t. He was standing there in his navy suit, white shirt underneath with the top two buttons undone, brown wingtip loafers on his feet and aviator shades peeking out of his pocket, looking dumbstruck as I stepped onto the elevator.
Jamie
Growing up, I knew I was an outlier. I didn’t come from wealth or prestige, but I was smart. I learned to stay quiet except when called upon. Keeping my friend group small, I’d never been the popular girl, except Ford Conway was my best friend. The other girls remained envious, and his mother continued to deny the authenticity of the friendship. Maggie—the hired help—was the only one who validated me. She’d whisper to me to take advantage of the education and make something of myself. She promised I’d have the last laugh “on all of them.”
Before puberty fully hit, that notion felt possible. But when I realized I’d fallen into a hopeless crush on Ford, the idea felt impossible. I’d never told Maggie I loved Ford, but I was pretty sure she suspected.
I’d watch him talk to other girls and my chest ached, and no matter how hard I tried to force a smile, I couldn’t. I knew, somewhere so deep, in a place beyond my soul, no one would ever compare to him.
We’d shared so many fun times and secrets. The first time he called me Red, I was pretty sure my face turned exactly that color. When he took Regina Sterling to prom, my heart splintered. I’d gone alone in my coral-colored taffeta dress—my favorite moment being the one song Ford danced with me. The song had been “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison, Ford changing the lyrics to silver-eyed girl. I told myself he’d come up with it on his own, but I also knew deep down he’d learned it from Maggie…
Now, as I slid onto a stool next to my closest friend, Val, I breathed in a long breath and exhaled an even longer one as I realized it was that exact song playing in the bar. With Morrison crooning in the background, a chill ran the length of my spine. As if Ford hadn’t haunted me enough in the past, he was now in the present.
I didn’t remember a single second of my afternoon. Pretty sure I’d sat at my office desk and stared at my computer for several hours, googling recent pictures of him, even though I’d seen him in the flesh only hours before. When Val texted and suggested meeting up for a drink, I nearly jumped for joy. Except there was a patient room below my office, and I didn’t think they’d appreciate the thumping on their ceiling.
Finally seated in my favorite haunt, I looked around. I loved this place—it was the type of institution I’d dreamed about going to when I was in college. Back then, the Georgetown neighborhood was full of places like this—chic and specializing in high-end drinks. I’d made a habit of dreaming of going to one every night when I couldn’t afford it. Then I’d found Whiskey Blue shortly after they opened in Baltimore. The first time I’d come in was to celebrate my job. I’d been coming ever since. As a singleton or with Val.
