“No, it’s not a sad story.” I look up at him, we’re sitting in the darkness of his truck but I can see the way his whiskey brown eyes are shining back at me.
“Are you kidding? That’s like a textbook sad story, Ford. You basically had the rug pulled out from under you by someone you thought was your entire future.” I choke out a laugh through a sob. Shaking his head, he places both hands on my cheeks.
“No, Abby. It’s not sad.” He pulls my legs to rest over his lap, running a hand over my thighs.
“I’ve spent the last few years moving on auto pilot, going through the motions. I entered the league, competed for my team, I put football first… above everything else. I threw myself into the sport I loved because it was the one thing I knew I was doing right. On the field, I’m Ford Anderson, Pro Bowl Tight End. That’s the only person I wanted to be for the longest time.” The lump in my throat settles as I take a deep breath.
“Who do you want to be now?” My voice is quiet as my eyes stay focused on him.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and my eyes flutter shut for a brief moment at his touch. “Now, I want to be the guy who kisses you goodnight, the guy who listens to the same songs on repeat because they make you happy. I want to be the guy who buys organic fruit at the store because you insist it’s better, even though it’s definitely the same as the regular shit. I want to spend my nights with you watching reruns ofNew Girlbecause I know it’s your favorite. I just want to be the man you deserve, I want to spend my time proving to you how much you mean to me, and how much I love you.” A lone tear falls from my eye. “So no, what happened with Grace isn’t sad, because it gave me you. She wasn’t my future. You are, Abby. You are my future.”
Looking into Ford's eyes, telling him how I feel is on the tip of my tongue.Thisis love. This feeling that I’ve had in the pit of my stomach for weeks, it’s been love. I’ve never experienced it, not truly, but if it feels like flying while also being swept up into a wind storm at the same time, then I feel it. Magical and scary all at once. Falling in love with Ford didn’t even feel like falling, it was like he gently picked me up and carried me into his heart and I was safe, I was home. I can’t possibly understand how someone let a man like him go, but I have to be thankful that both of our journeys have led us here, to one another.
Before I get the chance to even open my mouth to say anything, his finger is pulling my chin towards his lips. There’s no rush, he’s tender and soft. His tongue moves between my lips and I open as he swipes through. I pull him closer to me by the collar of his shirt and he scoops me into his lap, where I settle comfortably. The low moans that escape his chest through our kiss have my heart racing with desire for this man.
Being with Ford feels like coming up for air. Like I’ve been submerged underwater this whole time and finally, with him, I’m at the surface again. He nips at my bottom lip before pulling away and running his thumb over my cheekbone.
“We should probably get back out there before Mia sends out a search party for you.” He jokes, recalling our bowling alley extravaganza.
I rest my head on his chest in the crook of his neck and inhale deeply as I close my eyes. I want to make sure this moment is engraved in my memory. I never want to forget the moment that I knew I was in love with Ford Anderson.
When we get out of the truck, I grab Ford’s hand and hold it tight as we walk through the parking garage. I know I can’t hold it the whole time, but something in me just aches for his closeness, to always be touching him somehow. If his smile tells me anything, it’s that he’s more than fine with my sudden act of PDA.
Once we’re at the stop sign and closer to where everyone else is, we release each other’s hands and both give one another a reassuring smile.
“Oh, we should probably actually get hot chocolate.” Laughing, I point to the cafe up ahead with a sign that reads Hot Chocolate and Hot Cider. We order six of them and are holding the cup carriers as we walk back out onto the street. If nothing else, we can at least use the excuse that we ordered six drinks to make up for some of the time we were away.
“Hi Ms. Hunt.” I hear a small girl's voice as we stand at the crosswalk. Looking down, I notice Harper there with a young woman, probably her babysitter.
“Harper, hi.” I address the woman next to her as well and she shakes my hand with a kind smile. Harper cranes her neck to look up at Ford. “He’s tall.” She jerks her thumb in his direction as she looks at me. I can't hold back the laugh that bubbles out as I smile over at Ford, who then bends down to meet Harper at eye level.
“This better?” He smiles and extends his hand.
“I’m Ford.” A tsunami of emotion washes over me watching their interaction. I’ve seen him with the kids downtown a handful of times, but this feels different. This is someone frommyworld he’s connecting with and damnit, if that doesn’t just twist my heart up.
Harper is holding a piece of paper in her hand with a drawing on it, it’s one of those Caricature drawings where you sit in a chair and someone draws you as you’re in front of them. Ford takes the paper out of her hand and holds it up next to Harper’s face as if checking the resemblance between the two.
“Pretty cool.” He nods his head as he hands it back.
“I could do something better,” Harper blurts out. She really has no filter sometimes.
“Oh yeah? You’re into drawing?” Ford looks up at me and I nod my head enthusiastically.
“Well, there’s a cool place where you can come and draw whatever you want. Maybe Ms. Hunt can show you when it’s done.” Ford stands up and picks up the hot chocolates–that I’m sure will now be more like regular chocolate milk–from the ground next to him.
Harper’s eyes widen with excitement as she nods her head before the crosswalk changes and we head in opposite directions.
Christmas is in five days and I have a million and one things that still need to get done. My mom is coming over on Christmas Eve and staying the night, plus Summer will also be here. It’ll be just like when we were growing up, except for, of course, the absence of dad.
There are certain traditions I’ll always remember doing with him, small little things, he wasn’t really over the top or anything with holidays, but it didn’t matter. They were always perfect because they were ours. It used to be a running joke that I definitely didn’t get my cooking skills from him, since I’m severely lacking in that area, yet he made it look easy. He’d make his own gravy for the turkey every year on Thanksgiving and my gosh, if it wasn’t the one thing I looked forward to the most.
As the years have gone by, I’ve been able to find a lot of joy again in the holiday season. I've been learning how to navigate this new normal, and even though I don’t like it, I’ve reached the acceptance stage of grief to be able to realize this is my reality now. It’s strange when you lose a parent. One moment they’re the people you’ve known the longest in your life and the next they’re just gone. I’m still learning how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.
“Hey, Ab.” Chase taps on my bedroom door, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“I’m heading to the stadium, I’ll see you later.”
My door swings back and forth as his bag bumps it on his way out. There’s a game this afternoon and I told Ford I’d be there, but truthfully, there are so many things that I need to do before Summer gets here tomorrow. I grab my notepad from the nightstand to make a list. Number one is definitely“shower.”It might not be necessary to put things like showering on a to do list, but there’s something satisfying in simply crossing it off.
