Sue me if I’m a little vulnerable after the last half hour sitting on Ford’s lap in the family room.
“Suit yourself,” she says, and she moves to help my dad with the wine.
Ford leans in closer to me, and I suddenly smell him. Ismellhim. I’ve neversmelledFord Bradley a day in my life, but he smells like a goddamn five-star resort on the beach somewhere. Clean and fresh and a little bright and expensive.
I push the thought away. So he smells good. Big deal.
He’s done carving the turkey, I’m done mashing the potatoes, and we start carrying the dishes to the table. I gaze with curiosity at his green bean dish.
It looks…delightful. Not at all like that trash casserole everyone else brings to Thanksgiving dinner.
“Dinner is served,” I call formally, and my family joins me in the kitchen. Layla has already strapped my nephew’s booster seat to one of the kitchen chairs, and we all take our places around the table.
Ford and I are closest to the kitchen so we can grab whatever our guests might need, and after my father insists on saying a prayer, my mother says, “Let’s all go around and say one thing we’re thankful for this year before we begin. I’ll start. I’m thankful for a year where we get to sit around a table together and celebrate this holiday. Larry?” She looks over at her husband.
“I’m thankful to be in Florida with this gorgeous weather. Sure don’t miss digging out of an early blizzard on Thanksgiving back home in Chicago,” he says. He looks to my brother next.
“I’m thankful for Layla and Maddox and the little family we’re creating.”
In the middle between them, Maddox says, “Gah!”
Layla goes next. “I’m thankful for the little one coming to us next June.” She rubs her belly, and there’s a moment of pause while the news hits us all. And then, suddenly, everyone is up and out of their seats with congratulatory hugs that my brother is growing his family by one more sweet baby.
He’s only twenty-nine. Ford’s age. He’s turning the corner of thirty, and he’s about to have two kids.
I don’t even have a boyfriend anymore. I’m nowhere close to having a family, even though it’s always been a dream of mine.
Instead, I’m starting to feel things for my ex’s brother that I have no business feeling.
Once we’re seated and the food is starting to get cold, I say, “Let’s eat!”
“Well, wait a minute, honey,” my mom says. “You and Ford haven’t gone yet.”
I nod at Ford to go first.
He glances at me. “I’m thankful we were finally given the chance to be together.” He leans over and presses his lips to mine, and my thighs clench together involuntarily.
Whoa.
My God.
What the hell is happening?
And why do I keep having the same recurring thought with every minute that passes us by?
I’m starting to become fairly certain that I don’t want to fake this with him at all.
I think maybe I want this to be real.
CHAPTER 16: Ford Bradley
Something Real Fucking Dumb
Thanksgiving is a success by all accounts, but mostly by mine because I finally got to pretend like the woman I’ve wanted to be with for a long, long time now is actually mine.
But when the last dish is dried and her family is long gone, the pretending has stopped, and I’m left with an empty feeling inside despite the very full feeling I have from eating way too much.
That’s what the holidays are all about, I guess. Overeating. For most people. For me, though—I have to be up bright and early to practice football tomorrow morning, which means I’ll be struggling since I partook in one of the luxuries I don’t usually afford myself.
