“Why not?” he murmured.
“Because.” I nuzzled his nose. “Those sweet nothings are reserved for me. Got it?” I pulled his mouth to mine.
“Got it,” he said against my lips. “Would you like me to practice some of those sweet nothings right now?”
“Could you just hold me instead?” I asked quietly.
His expression softened. “I’d love to.”
An hour later, as Griffin slept, I stared out at the stars again, dread pooling in my stomach at the thought of Phoenix. If I got on that plane, DayGlow would be there waiting. And the minute Griffin took off for Yosemite, I would disappear.
Please save me. Please save me. Please save me, I prayed.
All night long.
Chapter Nineteen
JULIETTE
Amonth ago, I never would’ve imagined this life—a husband who was brilliant and funny and looked the way Griffin looked, who adored me—and a whole family of big-hearted people who came with him. Nothing grated on me more than ingratitude—and I’d been incredibly blessed.
I still hated goodbyes as much as I ever had. So when I woke up the next day, I told myself I wouldn’t say it. I would hug them all tight, smile, and say, “See you later.” Then I’d get on the plane and figure out how to make Phoenix work. Being with Griffin would be more than enough.
And yet, my disobedient heart was still praying for a way to stay.
Bowen, Silas, Lemon, and Holden drove to Seddledowne Family Medicine to confront Lemon’s ex for failing Maggie. Charlie, Sophie, and I took her for a pedicure.
The moment we returned, I’d need to grab my bag and go. I would have, too, if Peyton hadn’t met me at the car.
“Jules.” She glanced down. “Oh, nice toes.” She grabbed my arm. “I need to talk to you for a minute.” The woman practically hummed with excitement.
Ford, on the other hand, looked like a man heading to his own execution. He paced across the lawn. His mohawk—perfectly spiked that morning—now looked like a row of melted crayons slumped sideways in the sun.
Peyton grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. “Have mercy.” She shook her head. “That man looks like a rainbow chicken that’s been through a washing machine.”
I bit my cheek. “Look at it this way—as soon as you post it on Instagram, the affair offers will stop.” At least twenty women propositioned Ford online every day, apparently. He never knew about any of them because Peyton had banned him from running his own accounts years ago. But it still drove her crazy.
“It’s posted.” She let out a short laugh. “Five new offers in the first ten minutes. Some women.”
“Peyton.” Ford’s voice dropped when we stopped in front of him. His eyes darted around like he wasn’t sure he should be seen talking to me. What on earth? “I don’t think this is the right time. Maybe in a year. Or five.”
He looked seriously worried, but I couldn’t take him seriously. Not with the hair. I snorted and slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Ford,” Peyton hissed, trying not to laugh herself. “We have to.” She leaned in, whispering, “You know she needs this.” She jabbed herself in the chest. “Ineed it.”
“You don’t need it,” he hissed right back, his mo-flop bouncing with each word. “You want it. Big difference.” Then he glanced at me and deflated. He tipped his head back, breathed out, “Fine. She needs it.”
“What do I need?” I asked, laughing. But Ford’s visible dread about whatever this was gave me slight pause. Not as much pause as his hair, but still.
Focus! Whatever this is, it seems serious.
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“You want to stay in Seddledowne, don’t you?” Peyton asked.
Screech.
What?
