I wish I had someone I could sort through this with that wasn’t as invested as Ford is. But the truth is that I have Kenzie, who wouldn’t understand because she’s in the perfect marriage already, my brother, who I don’t talk to about things like this and would pick Ford for me anyway, and…Ford.
He’s who I would call.
I throw myself wholly and totally into my projects, and since college, my projects have been Archer and my business. It’s why I don’t have close girlfriends except for the woman I hired who works in the office next to mine.
So now that one project has ended and the other has the chance to accelerate at a high rate of speed, what am I supposed to do? I can’t talk to Archer about it, that’s for damn sure.
So where do I turn?
I’m staring at the answer, and we’re talking it out. Still, it would help to have an opinion from someone with no skin in the game.
His eyes edge over to mine, and we stare off for a few beats as we each think this thing through. I’ve gotten by on my own instincts just fine up to this point, and something is telling me yes. It’s like it’s pumped through the air vents in this place or something. I was sure when I brought Ford upstairs and talked him into going halfsies on this place with me.
And I’m sure about this, too. “I think we should do it.”
His brows shoot up in surprise. And then, as if there’s also something pumped through the air vents that causes practicalpeople to make absolutely impractical decisions, he nods. “Then let’s do it.”
My jaw drops at his words. “Are you serious?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Do you not want to?”
“No, I do. I just thought you’d be the one to talk some sense into me.”
“When it comes to you, I’m not sure I have any sense at all.”
I rush at him and fling my arms around his neck.
His response is a softoofeven as he loops his arm around my waist. “You ready to be Mrs. Bradley?”
The name sends a shot of something down my spine.
I’ve been ready to be Mrs. Bradley since I was in high school. It’s just not the Bradley I thought it would be.
And I’m starting to think this one’s even better…even though I’ll likely have to keep my name since it’s attached to all my branding.
He’s been standing right in front of me this entire time, and I was too blinded by Archer to see.
But I see him now, and I can’t wait to get planning for the future I never saw coming.
It feels like I have a ton of big decisions to make, and it’s not just cake flavors and guest lists and choosing the best date for us.
It’s about where to live. Where to work. Where to place my next investment.
The day after we agreed to get married, I can’t stop pulling up the listing for the Bradley Mansion. There are just so many precious memories there in that house—and not solely with Archer, but with Ford, too.
It’s a piece of our history. It’s that fallen kingdom imagery, and I want to be the one who steps in and gives life back to a place that seemed to have lost everything.
I flip through the photographs on Zillow. I labor over every single one. I envision the walls we could knock down, working with the Bradley Group—mybrother-in-law—on a project that would be close to his heart, too, since it’s where he grew up.
I can’t stop looking at the view of the Chicago skyline, either. It’ssogorgeous from the mansion’s backyard, an image that nearly looks photoshopped.
I see a bride and a groom standing there, two people who adore their hometown and chose this city as the backdrop of the most special day of their lives.
I force myself to close the window.
I have a shitload of work to accomplish now that I’m planning not one buttwoweddings set to take place in a town I’m still getting to know, and the last thing I should be doing is staring at Zillow.
And to that end, once Ford is home from practice, I bring up my living situation over dinner.
