Truth be told, I have no clue what I’m doing.
She’s offered to help me, but she has plenty of work to do herself, which I gently remind her of any time she stands in my doorway asking me what’s wrong.
I’ve talked it to death. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
Besides, being here, looking through files and folders and five years’ worth of work, is taking my mind off my indecision, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
Archer seems to think Ford cares about me and would never intentionally hurt me.
I know we can find our way out of this. He could help me be a bit more practical. As I scan the mess I’ve made of my office, Lord knows I could use another dose or two of his sensibility.
And maybe it wouldn’t hurt him to dream a little more. To have an unrealistic side. Dream big or go home. What’s the point of a dream if it’s not big and bold? Anything can happen. Even big and bold.
I need a break. I head out to the break room and pour myself another cup of coffee in one of the paper cups sitting on the counter, and I head back toward my office. I put on some music, shut the door, and have a little dance party all by myself to get my muscles moving a little. I’m stiff from sitting on the floor for yet another day. I think this makes four or five in a row, and I’m definitely making progress in here. Instead of keeping an entire file folder on a particular couple purely because I like the centerpieces, I’m organizing. A rather large order from Amazon arrived yesterday, and so far, I’ve created binders for centerpieces, cakes, bridal party attire, rings, ceremony ideas, and reception ideas. There’s more to organize, but it’s a good start.
I shake my booty through Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off,” and I feel a rush of adrenaline to keep moving, so I keep dancing as “Cruel Summer” comes on next. It may be winter, but it feels like a lot of cruel twists have hit me these last few months.
I’m breathless when I hear a knock on the door. I’m still shaking my ass as I move to open it, assuming it’s Kenzie, and I’m singing at the top of my lungs when I toss open the doorin the middle of the chorus only to find Ford standing on the other side of the door.
I stop mid-lyric, and I’m pretty sure a little squeaking sound escapes me as my eyes widen and my jaw drops.
I blink a few times, and then I grab my phone and pause the song as I clear my throat and shake my head to make sure it’s not some vision I’m seeing standing in front of me.
An amused smile lifts the corners of his lips as I turn to look at him again.
“Ford,” I finally manage.
“Tatum,” he says softly.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He fills my doorway with his big, athletic body, and his dark eyes are glowing at me. His hair is perfectly styled as usual, and he’s got a little more scruff on his jaw than he usually wears. His eyes are fixed on me, and God, he’s hot.
And he’s here.
He’shere.
“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry you ever thought I doubted you. I’m sorry you felt the need to run. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the sale. I’m sorry I didn’t come running for you sooner. I’m sorry about all of it. I’ve been alone for so long now that I’ve never really had to consider someone else’s place in my life, but I know exactly where I want you to be, and it’s not nearly the entire way across the country.”
“Where is it?” I ask.
“Right next to me. By my side. Always. I’ve been torn between respecting your need for distance through these boundaries you’ve set and my need to fight for you and hold you in my arms again.”
I rush toward him as the realization of exactly how much I’ve missed him over this last week plows into me.
This right here. This feeling. This warmth, this safety, this cocoon of love…that’s what I want.
“I’m sorry, too,” I sob. “I’m sorry I needed space. Now that you’re here, I don’t want space. I don’t want to be away from you. I just wanted your belief in me. I wanted you to be honest with me, and I need you to promise I’ll have those two things from you. Always.”
“You’re my wife, and you deserve my honesty and support. Always.” He lowers his head until our lips meet, sealing the promise as he bands his arms tightly around me, but he pulls back and loosens his grip as he blows out a breath. “I brought you something.” He holds out a manila envelope, and my brows dip as I glance at the envelope and back at his eyes.
“What is it?” I reach out and take it.
He nods as if to saygo ahead, so I undo the clasp and open the top. I pull out some papers, and I read the top page.
Warranty Deed
For the consideration of One Million Dollars ($1,000,000), in hand paid, Ford Bradley, Grantor, of Cook County, Illinois, conveys and warrants to Ford Bradley and Tatum Barker, of Clark County, Nevada, Joint Grantees, as tenants in common, each owning an undivided fifty percent interest of the following described real estate: The Bradley Mansion, situated in the County of Cook, State of Illinois.
