“My mom doesn’t take no when it comes to her plans. I had to go dark when it came to her. Period.”
“Which is it? You needed to film in paradise and brought me here to be your side piece? Or you tricked me into thinking you wanted me here, but really wanted to avoid the fix-up? And tricked your mom, for that matter?”
Moving, he knelt in front of me, laid his head in my lap. “Does it matter?”
With my hand on his messy head of hair, running my fingers through his golden locks made only for a golden boy, I felt like a tornado was ripping through my body, annihilating me.
“It does matter.” I whispered my answer because if I didn’t say it loudly, maybe the reality wasn’t true. The reality I spoke next. “If you can’t even tell your mom about me, how do I fit into your life?”
“Perfectly,” he answered into my thighs, his hands on my kneecaps but his eyes not on mine.
He couldn’t look at me because he was lying. Up until this moment, he’d always been truthful. Even when we’d discussed his running out on me in college, he spoke about his inner uncertainty never letting go of my gaze.
“I don’t think so.” It pained me to say it. It hurt more than not seeing Ford for two decades. We’d spent a glorious few months visiting, exploring one another’s bodies, reuniting. But it wasn’t a forever. Ford wasn’t my partner. “I have to go,” I said, still running my hand down the back of his head. “I’m going to the airport. Maybe there is an earlier flight to the West Coast, and from there I can get home.”
“No.” He said it firmly, but stood and finally looked at me. His eyes almost appeared to be damp.
“I have to.”
“Please, James. She’s not my ally. You can’t imagine what it’s like when your own mother is your enemy. Your mom was spectacular in every sense. You may not have grown up with all the same privilege as me, but your mother’s love was worth more.”
“She was spectacular. You know what else? She was smart, and she always told me I’d never really be a part of your circle. And she was right. I hope she isn’t watching from the grave, saying I told you so. She used to say Maggie liked me. That Maggie thought I was a dose of reality for you kids. But your mom was the one who was responsible for making you who you were. Who you are… She made you, formed you, and she never wanted the likes of me in your life. Not then, not now.”
“I don’t care what she wants. She was planning a crazy media stunt. She was sending a photographer with Sweet Caro to capture us together. Of course she knew it would travel back to you. I gave her a dose of her own medicine, and then Bella somehow invited herself to play the game too. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she planned this with my mom. But Bella despises anyone outside Hollywood.”
I stood, tears prickling my eyes, my nose twitchy with moisture. “Sweet Caro? She could practically be your little sister or daughter.” I wasn’t sure what hurt most—her beauty, youth, or status…or the fact she was everything I wasn’t. Everyone knew Sweet Caro. She was a publicity nightmare for her aging dad.
“Please, James. I don’t want Sweet Caro. If you know me at all, you know this. If you care for me at all, you can feel what I feel. And it’s all for you.”
A tiny spark of empathy was beginning to form in my heart. We hadn’t shared words on how we felt, but our bodies certainly did a lot of conversing on the matter. In the end though, I knew Ford was nothing more than a chess piece to his mom. Which made me as much of a game to her as he was.
“Ford, I have to go. Please. Maybe cooler heads will prevail.” I couldn’t help but leave a small sliver of hope for both of us. “But I wasn’t meant to play the long game. I can’t be a pawn in your mother’s game.”
I slammed the proverbial door, and then hauled ass to the bedroom, tossing on leggings and a long sweater, my robe dropping to the floor in a heap. Shoving my running shoes on, I squeezed my already packed suitcase closed and zippered it.
Dumping the contents of the bathroom counter into my tote while Ford watched, I said, “Thank you. This will be a time I’ll always remember.”
He stood there, mouth pursed, arms crossed, watching my every move.
I slinked by him, and added, “Let me go to the lobby and get a cab. If you rush after me, it will only cause a further scene.”
Finally he dropped the sour posture and grabbed me, my suitcase falling to the floor while he pushed his mouth on mine. He held me closer than I imagined possible, telling me with his closed-mouth kiss how much he cared. But was it enough?
He broke free and I felt myself shaking in his embrace. His eyes blazed, passion and anger simmering in equal measure.
“I’m letting you do what you want because I love you, James. I love you, and I’m not going to lie down and roll over for my mom anymore. I’m a grown man, for God’s sake. I love you, and don’t forget it for one minute of your flight back or when you get home. I will be back to get you.”
I didn’t have a response. My heart was doing gymnastics in my chest and my stomach felt like it was turning inside out at his proclamation.
Why now? Was it out of desperation? For his ego’s sake? Or did he really love me?
I didn’t inquire; I didn’t speak. I stood on tiptoes and placed a small peck on his forehead and left without saying anything more than thanks.
I had two long flights to get home. Hours to think about what the hell I was going to do when it came to Ford Conway…knowing we were not one bit sustainable.
Ford
“Listen, Billy. I don’t want to be here, but I am,” I remembered saying to my sister at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She’d gotten rip-roaring drunk with a few of her friends and headed to the top of the structural monstrosity, taunting me with photos of her death-defying ways.
