“It’s too much, Ford,” Channing says, her brows snapping together in a frown as she looks around the table.
Shaking my head, I reach for a piece of buttered bread, popping it into my mouth. “Nope. I don’t sleep much anyway, gives me somethin’ to do.”
Without another word, I stand and turn away from them, making my way over to the men. They’re chatting, helping Reese fish and I spend the rest of the evening with my friends, no longer talking about women at all, and I find that it’s refreshing as fuck.
I never thought I would ever imagine actually being a little tired of the opposite sex—but I am.
STEPHANIE
“It’s exactly the way I imagined it,” Damion breathes next to me from the passenger seat.
“How’s that?” I laugh as I pull up to the grocery store for supplies.
I glance around for Ford’s truck, the new and the old one. I feel like I’m on some kind of covert mission. I don’t want him to see me, to know I’m here, not yet at least. Not until tomorrow night.
“Small, dusty, full of jeans and t-shirts, and just plain small.”
“That pretty much sums up Gallup in a nutshell.”
Damion laughs, his phone going off in his hand. I watch as he silences it. “Who is it?”
“The rest of your team, pissed off at your agreement and announcement today.”
I hum, knowing that they’ve been blowing up my phone too, but I turned it off when we boarded the plane and never turned it back on again.
“Grace is angry,” I whisper. “Along with everyone else.”
“They are, but it’s not the first time someone’s been mad at you, is it?” he asks.
“It’s not.”
“And what did you do then?”
“Lived my life the way I wanted to. But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t hurt people along the way,” I admit.
He nods his head but doesn’t say anything right away. I think that maybe he doesn’t have anything to say.
“You know, you may have hurt people, but I know you, Stephanie. I know without a doubt that you never did anything maliciously. If you hurt them, it wasn’t because you were trying to be mean.”
“No, I wasn’t. But I was selfish. Still am.”
“That’s just human nature. Even someone who claims to be selfless, isn’t. None of us are.”
We don’t say anything for another long moment. I reach for my purse, then hook it over my shoulder before I push the door open.
“Maybe it’s human nature, but it feels just awful inside,” I whisper.
“Yeah, it can. But you’re righting that wrong now, aren’t you?”
“If he’ll let me.”
Damion and I go shopping. I can’t help but laugh every time he sees something he’s never seen before. The fresh tortillas, cake by the slice, and Texas-shaped everything are his favorites. In fact, he loads the shopping cart full of them all.
“Who is going to eat all of this?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter. I want it,” he snaps, cradling the warm tortillas to his chest as if I’m going to take them away from him.
Holding up my hands in surrender, my lips twitch as I shake my head. “Those are all yours, but if you want a suggestion, some butter, cinnamon, and sugar would make them a hell of a lot better.”
“Oh my God. I can’t. Point me in the direction and I’ll grab them while you check out.”
Lifting my hand, I extend my index finger and tell him where to find the ingredients as I begin to place my items on the cashier belt. I hurry, not wanting to be caught in here by anyone, especially Ford. I don’t want him to know I’m in town yet.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take us too long to check out. Damion and I sprint out of the store, quickly load up the car, then head toward the hotel. Not that I’m surprised, but I am glad to find out that the largest room in the place is still available as we check in.
We carry our bags into the room, then unload all the groceries before I promptly throw myself back on the bed.
“I wouldn’t lay down on that comforter,” Damion warns with a shiver.
“I know they’re gross. But I’m tired and I’m going to disinfect from the plane anyway. I just need five minutes.”
Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath before I let it out with a sigh. I can hear him shuffling around, but I ignore it, all of it. I just want a moment to breathe, to try to figure out how I’m going to get Ford back and convince him that I’m here to stay—forever.
“This is fucking amazing,” Damion moans.
Opening one eye, I can’t help but giggle at the sight of him eating a tortilla with butter, cinnamon, and sugar slathered all over it.
“Make me one too, please?”
He arches a brow, holding his snack to his chest.
“There are fifty tortillas there, you can spare one,” I snap.
He growls, then makes me one and tosses it toward me. “Thanks.” I laugh.
We sit in the hotel room, talking and eating tortillas for the rest of the evening. It’s cathartic. It’s exactly what I need before I allow myself to be completely vulnerable. To apologize and to truly lay myself bare for Ford.
To tell him that I’ve always loved him, I’ve never stopped. That I want to try again and that my house in Malibu is on the market, I have only one movie left to make and then I’m going to completely retire from the business.
That I want to have a future with him, the family that we should have always had. The life that we should have always had. The life that I know is missing from deep inside of me.
He could laugh in my face. He could tell me that it’s too late. Or he could kiss me and accept everything that I have to say, everything that I want. The fact that I have no idea what is going to happen fills me with hope and anxiety all at the same time.
I want him.
I want this life.
I want everything.
Chapter Thirty
FORD
Climbing out of my truck, I slide my hand across the side of my hair, wondering how fucking ridiculous I must look. I can’t remember the last time I was in public without either a ball cap or my straw hat. Didn’t figure either would be appropriate for a first blind date in a sit-down restaurant.
Straightening my Pearl Snap Button Shirt, I clear my throat before locking my truck up and make my way inside of the Italian restaurant. It’s pretty calm for a Friday night, but then again, I’m not sure seven is really the dinner rush in a town that is mostly full of retired folks.
Walking up to the hostess, I tell her that there is a reservation under Matthews. I know that I’m a bit early, but I couldn’t have my date beat me here. It just wouldn’t be gentlemanly to make a woman wait, even if she’s a stranger.
She’s a young thing, probably just out of high school, her lips turn up into a grin and she nods her head as she reaches for two menus.
“Your other party hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to wait at the bar?”
Shaking my head, I tell her no. As much as I want a couple of beers to calm my nerves, I’m not going to be that guy. I don’t want this girl to think that I’m someone who gets drunk on a first date. I want to make a good impression, or at least try to make one.