“I know.” He reaches over and squeezes my forearm. “I’m really sorry. And I wanted to let you know the mansion is listed.”
All the air deflates out of me at his words. It felt like there was still a chance when it wasn’t listed, but whoever took that listing, of course, would work quickly because of the sheer scale of how much he or she could make off the deal.
“But I also have good news,” he says before I can beg him to help me figure out how we can save the mansion.
“What?”
“You know Devon Pratt?” he asks.
My brows push together as I shake my head a little. “Who?”
He chuckles. “I thought you said you watched every single one of my games.”
I hold a hand to my chest. “No, I said I put every single one of your games on. I didn’t say I paid attention.”
He barks out a laugh at that. “Fine. He’s the safety.”
“Safety?” I ask, wrinkling my nose in confusion. “Like a security guard?”
He laughs. “No. He’s on defense. Anyway, he proposed to his girlfriend.”
“Good for him,” I say, throwing out a sarcastic thumbs-up. I’m out here crying about how I’m decidedlynotgetting married and especially not at my dream location, and he’s all excited about some dude I don’t even know whoisgetting married? I’m not sure what the hell he’s going on about, but I don’t need him rubbing everyone else’s happiness in my face when I’m back to square one where my own happiness is concerned.
“Tate.” He says my name like a command, and I glance over at him. “He’s gettingmarried. Here in Tampa. He’s planning a wedding.”
“Yes, as people tend to do when they propose and the other person says yes.”
“Oh my God, you’re hardheaded. He’s going to need someone to plan that wedding. You plan weddings. Are you getting it yet?”
It hits me all at once, and I feel the tension start to dissipate from my chest. I leap up from my chair as it finally hits me. “Oh! Oh my God, I need to score that wedding! If you don’t mind me staying here with you a little longer, of course.”
“You’re welcome here as long as you need,” he says quietly as he stands, too. “And I’ll gladly hook you and Lindsay up. That’s Devon’s fiancée.”
I glance over at him, and I swear for the tiniest second his eyes flick to my lips. I can’t help but lick them a little self-consciously, as if maybe some of the yogurt I ate for lunch has gathered in a crevice and I hadn’t felt it. There doesn’t seem to be anything there.
“You’re the best, Ford. Thank you.” I move to give him a hug, and his arms wrap around me, warm and strong and tight.
It feels good here.
It feels great here, actually. Tampa, this condo overlooking the city, the arms of this kind and gorgeous man who so effortlessly seems to want to support me and my career despite the whole thing with the mansion.
I try my hardest to let that go.
He’s trying to make up for it, and it’s not mine to have no matter how much of a dream it might be. That’s all it can be—a dream.
Sort of like whatever it is I’m starting to feel for Ford Bradley.
CHAPTER 10: Ford Bradley
Winston Manor
Lindsay and Devon hired Tatum immediately when they checked out her Instagram page dedicated to the work she’s done, and she spends the week learning the atmosphere here in Tampa while I work hard at practice. When I get home each night, she’s curled up on the couch watching some show about weddings. She pauses it, sits up, and fills me in on her day, and she listens and asks questions as I talk about my day.
It feels like everything I want out of life—you know, except the sex part. Or the no-sex part, as the case may be.
What we have is intimate and close, but there’s a clear line in the sand separating what we have from romance.
Still, the base is there. The bones. The foundation. It’s strong, and maybe that’s why it hurts so much that we can’t go any further than where we are.
