“Two, she wasn’t the one. I could have told you that since day one.”
I snort. “Lay it on me, Dad. How exactly did you know this?”
“Because she was a matter of convenience. She looked at you as a meal ticket, and you looked at her as someone who fit the role.”
“That’s bullshit.” I say the words with more conviction than I feel.
“Is it? Because I never saw her as being the one you’d walk through fire for just to see for a minute.”
I’m about to laugh but when I glance his way, amber eyes that match mine are looking back at me with an unrivaled intensity. “Are you missing Mom?” I ask him, suddenly feeling like an ass for not looking closer sooner.
A soft smile breaks on his lips. “I will always miss your mother. That’s a given. But no, this isn’t about Mom. This is about you.”
“Would you have walked through fire for her?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yes.” His voice breaks on that single syllable.
With every passing day, passing year, her memory grows fainter and fainter regardless of how hard I try to hold tighter to it. The sound of her laugh. The scent of her perfume. The way she’d hug us as if her life depended on it. The love she gave. God, she knew how to make you feel loved.
“Yes, I would have.” I wonder if they were just an anomaly—the love they shared and he seemingly still feels. “I did. I still do. I’d go to hell and back for her. Some days I feel like I have after living all this time without her. Seeing you guys grow up, enjoying every minute of it, and knowing she’s missed every part of it.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve missed,” I murmur.
“Don’t be. At least I had the chance to have that kind of love.” He clears his throat, making it clear the kumbaya session is now over. “And I want that for you. For your brothers.”
“You actually think Callahan will settle down?” I snort.
“He’ll find someone to tame that fire of his, whereas you need someone to help stoke yours.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His half-hearted smile doesn’t tell me much. “When you find her, you’ll know.”
“I’ll know what?” Now he’s just making shit up to feel fatherly when he’s currently in over his head. “If you know the answer, please impart your wisdom.”
“Son, when a woman’s temper makes you love her even more, when her defiance makes you want to challenge her, and when her smile makes you want to earn each and every one, then you know she’s worth the goddamn fire.”
His words make me uncomfortable because I sure as hell didn’t feel that way about Jennifer.
“Got it.”
“At some point, you will get it. And when you do, I just hope I’m around to see it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand at him.
Can he just go and leave me in my wallowing?
“Hint taken. I’ll be going now.” Thank God. But as he reaches the door, he turns back to look at me. “Promise me something, Ford.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ever stoop to that level. Stealing another man’s woman shows who a man really is . . . or rather isn’t. And any woman willing to do the same isn’t worth the fire anyway.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ellery
The property is abuzz.
Contractors and laborers are everywhere. In the halls. In the rooms. Outside. Freaking everywhere.
Noise fills the air from the demolition of interior walls of the suites, the backup alarms of the trucks hauling out the debris, and the jackhammers chipping up concrete to make way for the café.
It’s complete and utter chaos, and I welcome every second of it.
Especially because it keeps both Ford and me busy—in different parts of the property—at almost all times.
Every time I walk into a room, it seems like he walks out of it.
And that’s probably for the better seeing as every time I catch a glimpse of him, I’m brought back to a few nights ago. To the sight of him naked, to the arrogance in his smirk, and the taunt in his eyes.
Partners are off limits.
Isn’t that the motto I settled on last night as I laid in bed fantasizing about my absurdly attractive partner?
Then why do I so desperately want to shove that motto where the sun doesn’t shine?
But now that I need to talk to him, he’s nowhere to be found. I walk through hallways lined with floor liners and past furniture being moved out to be resold. “Do you know where Ford is?” I ask several people along the way only to get random gestures in the direction of where the rooftop bar will be.
“There you are,” I say when I see him. He has drywall dust in his hair, his shirt has a ring of sweat around the neck, and his jeans have a tear in the knee.
And my ovaries were just put on standby to explode.
Dress shirt and tie-Ford is handsome.
Wharton sweatshirt over soaking wet skin is tempting.
And yes, naked Ford is more than mouthwatering.
But contractor, average-joe-looking Ford is a whole other level of deliciousness.
Partners are off limits.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.” I hold up my clipboard and the ever-growing list clipped to it. “I need to ask you a few—”
“No, you don’t.” He flashes a smile and averts his eyes. “Make the decision, Sinclair. I have complete confidence in any and all decisions you make.” He looks around as if he’s looking for someone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed downstairs.”
“Wait.” I reach out and grab his arm as he starts to walk away from me. “What’s going on? It’s day one and you’re already avoiding me. I thought we had a good week or two at least before you got sick of me.”
I don’t get the laugh I was going for. Instead, I get a shrug of his arm from my grip while the muscle in his jaw pulses as he clenches and unclenches his teeth. I hate that he won’t look at me. “More like trying to do the right thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifts his gaze to meet mine, and I wish I knew what that look in his eyes means. Confusion? Discomfort? Why would either of those be there?
“Look. It’s a busy day. I have a lot on my mind. And I truly do trust you to make the decisions that need to be made.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m being avoided and blown off?”
He drops his head and sighs before looking back up to meet my eyes. “You know how you had stuff? Well, I have stuff too, and rather than take my frustration out on you, it’s best if I just avoid you for the time being for your own sake.” The smile he offers doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yes, Grumpy Ford is back.”
I narrow my brows, wanting to ask more, needing to understand, but force myself to bite my tongue. In my thirty years, I can count on one hand the times a man has verbally expressed to me that he needs space. The norm has been lashing out and irrational behavior to push me away.
So as much as it kills me, as much as I wonder if I’m at fault for whatever is bugging him, I simply nod and give him what he asked for. “Okay.”