Wander dropped her head into her hands, while Whitney crossed her arms like she was about to scold me.
“What if it wasn’t?” Whitney asked.
I used the tines of my fork to mash a piece of scrambled egg into teeny tiny pieces. “But it is.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “What if it wasn’t a game? What if there was no onstage challenge? What if Ryan was just a guy who asked you out in the check out line, bought you pierogies and hot chocolate, crossed the country with you at a moment’snotice, and held your hand at your stepdad’s funeral? What would you call itthen?”
“I’d call him a book boyfriend in a fairytale,” Wander said.
I swallowed the bile that had filled my mouth. “I wouldn’t call it anything because book boyfriends don’t exist.”
“Why are you so stubborn?” Whitney asked. “You’re your own worst enemy.”
“I’m realistic.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the house to be empty, except for Ryan. I wanted to go sit under the willow tree by myself. I didn’t want the girls’ happily married commentary on my situationship.
. . . The situationship I had been sleeping with every night since we had arrived.
Justsleeping.
Just two people seeking comfort in each other. Just two people eating every meal together. Just two people spending every minute together, navigating an unknown, awful part of life.
Without realizing it, I had started craving his touch. Ryan’s hands were so gentle. Physical touch was definitely one of the ways he showed love. I got goosebumps every time he held my hand, kissed my temple or hair, or cradled me against his chest. His hands were always on me. They were a tender reassurance that he was fully present at my side.
What the hell was I doing? Pining over some guy who had made it abundantly clear that he intended to play me and win?
And why couldn’t my brain send that knowledge to my heart? Where was the disconnect?
I guessed it was somewhere around my mouth, where he had yet to kiss me.
Part of me was grateful he hadn’t taken things any further. No matter how much I desperately wanted him to.
Keeping kissing and sex off the table kept the boundaries clear. He was a road trip buddy. A temporary roommate. An accidental boyfriend.
And yet he was the only person I had ever told about the tree.
Lisa knew, because Shep had told her. But Ryan was the only person on earth who had heard it from me.
Part of me wanted to believe that it meant something.
That part was the hopeless romantic I had left in California. The woman in Kansas knew better than to believe that someone could love her more than she loved herself. The woman in California hadn’t loved herself at all. The woman in California would have believed him and then had her heart inevitably broken.
And I wasn’t that woman anymore.
THE FORD METHOD: WEEK SIX
HOLIDATE
Week Six marks the halfway point of The Ford Method, and that calls for a celebration! What are you going to celebrate? Whatever you want. Life is a beautiful thing. Enjoy every moment and romanticize the hell out of it.
Relationships can be tricky around the holidays, especially when both partners have long-standing traditions with their loved ones. It’s important to understand that moving forward with your relationship during the holidays isn’t about trying to hold on to every tradition from both families and force them down each others’ throats. It’s about picking and choosing what you want to keep or discard, while still leaving room for the two of you to create new traditions that are uniquely yours.
It can be hard to let go of traditions you’ve enjoyed since you were a child. But more unpleasant than change is feeling overwhelmedwhile trying to live three lives at once—yours, theirs, and y’all’s.
You’ll be cranky, exhausted, irritable, and cross with each other.
You probably sense the word I’m getting at here: compromise.
