Now, his face is replaced with Ford’s.
Hands, warm and calloused and familiar, cup my cheeks lightly. “Olivia?”
My breath shudders from my lips as I peel my eyes open. Ford watches me, concern bleeding into his dark eyes. Hedoesn’t release me, but he also doesn’t come any closer. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. I should feel relief, and yet…
And yet I yearn for his touch, for his comfort, more than anything right now.
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
Ford shakes his head gently. “What happened in there?”
My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat. “I don’t think I can make this work. Not how you want me to, Ford. I’m not…I’m not ready for what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be. I have other responsibilities, and I can’t—”I can’t bring you into it.
And I can’t let him hurt me—or Christopher.
Ford bows his head in a nod as he releases me. I don’t feel good about it, though.
I wrap my arms around myself. “There’s something you need to know about me,” I whisper. “Something important. And I think it’ll change how you go about the rest of today.” Maybe even change how he views this marriage. Because if he isn’t sure about kids now, what will he do when he learns I have one? That Chris might be his?
He stares at me for a long moment before sighing. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? Before Vegas. In a bar with a bucking bull.”
My mouth goes dry, but somehow, I find the strength to nod. “It was you?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I’m assuming that means you remember stealing my cowboy hat.”
Tears sting my eyes, making my vision watery. I slump into the hood of the truck with a short, surprised laugh. “I remember the hat. And you. I always remembered you.”
And I still carry a reminder of him with me. Oh, God. I have no choice now. I have to tell him.
“Wait,” I murmur, glancing at him. “AmIthe woman you have a vendetta against?”
At that, Ford grins. “I don’t think I’ve forgiven you for leaving me that night.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” I reply, my stomach in knots, bile in my throat.
How the hell am I supposed to tell him about Christopher? Now that I know for certain itishim, how does one mention they have a son they didn’t know about?
I keep replaying our conversation about children over in my head. He’d seemed so distant and uncertain. He won’t commit to them, is what I got from the conversation, which is so…
Defeating.
Ford crosses his arms. “Well, I spent the entire next day unable to get you out of my mind. Or the following months, really.”
“I would have found you if I knew anything else about you,” I murmur, heart pounding.
“You were looking for me?” he asks softly, surprised.
A lump catches in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “Yeah.”
What looks like relief fills his expression, and his smile widens. “Then Vegas was meant to be, darlin’. How can you deny that?”
God, I want to puke. “I can’t, not really,” I murmur.
Before I can mention our son, Ford kicks the toe of his boot into the dirt. “I was going to take you into Saddlehorn to the bar there. They have a bucking bull. I wanted to see if you’d remember it—us.” His grin grows as he takes a step towards me. “Now, I think I might have to come up with something else to do. Since I doubt you want to go back in there, you want a private tour of the ranch?”
I know I should tell him. I have no reason not to, but I need to get a better feel for his reaction, so I nod. “Sure.”
The truth is lodged in my throat the entire drive around Wild Vista Ranch. I can’t take in the beauty or how peaceful it is without the intense guilt overshadowing everything. The secret that is my baby weighs heavily on my shoulders, sinking me further and further into my seat.
