The end of an era, for one thing.
But also, in some ways, anyway, the end of the legacy my father always talks about. And maybe that’s what this familyneeds. We need to let go of the place that once held us all together. We made our final memories there when we said goodbye to our mother. Now it’s time to say goodbye to the place, too.
I blow out a breath.
Me:Take it.
It feels like a relief as I hit the send button.
I slide my phone into my pocket as Tatum walks out with her own steaming cup to join me, and it’s such a nice morning out here that I decide to keep that news to myself.
CHAPTER 42: Tatum Barker
Turning Thirty
What do you get for your husband when he turns thirty?
That is my current dilemma.
It’s particularly difficult since Ford has the option to buy pretty much anything he could possibly want…and that giant bottle of McGillicuddy’s from Christmas is still three-quarters full.
The week passes quickly. Ford has been an incredible assistant to me, sorting through the inbox that I've been desperately ignoring and creating new systems for me to keep me organized and prevent continued overwhelm. Where I’m all chaos, he’s all strategy.
He’s even started organizing mydownloadsfolder. If he thought the number of notifications I had was bad, well, those have nothing on the extreme number of files that clog my downloads folder on my laptop at any given time. We’re talking in the tens of thousands.
So I need something great to celebrate this man, but the gifts I keep coming across seem ridiculously cliché. This birthday is a big deal, too. It's not every day that someone turns thirty.
With that in mind, I send Everleigh a covert text.
Me:Can you help me out with a birthday present for Ford?
She replies that she can, and I send her the details of my plan.
It’s a lot to pull together with my already full plate, but it’ll absolutely be worth it—and it’ll mean so much more than a watch or another framed jersey.
Friday is the big day, and when we awake, we start the day with slow and sensual morning sex, where I ride on top of Ford’s cock as I wish him a happy birthday between moans and grunts of pleasure.
I make him breakfast—or, rather, I order up from the restaurant downstairs, and I make sure to ask twice for extra bacon. We sit on the terrace and enjoy our food, and we take a long walk along the bay, hand-in-hand, as our bond somehow seems to strengthen.
I work for a few hours before my dinner plans, and just before I need to hop in the shower to start getting ready, I click on that old familiar listing for the mansion as I try to piece together how I can afford to put time into another venue even if it is my dream venue.
But something’s different this time.
There’s a red dot at the top of the page accompanied by the wordsAccepting Backups.
Accepting backups?
That means someone put in an offer.
That means Fordacceptedan offer.
He didn’t tell me.
Heknowshow much I love that mansion—how much wealllove it, how much it means to all of us.
He also knows I can’t afford it. Maybe he was just trying to save me from more heartache where the mansion is concerned, but an awful feeling that he kept it from me on purpose pulses up my spine.
I can’t bring it up tonight. It’s his birthday, and there’s only one way that conversation will end: in a fight
