I locked up a half hour later and headed outside to wait for Ford. He pulled up within a few minutes and we headed to the store. Once we got there I showed him my list and the recipes I’d found. One of them called for mushrooms, but I’d found out one night when we ordered pizza that Ford despises mushrooms. I found it hilarious, because Colt hated them too, but he used to order double mushrooms when we ate pizza with Ford. “Are you serious? Colt hated them too? That asshole,” Ford muttered, when I explained why I was laughing so hard.
When I showed him the recipe, he gave me a disgusted look at the mention of mushrooms and I laughed. “We can leave the mushrooms out,” I told him soothingly.
We pushed the buggy through the store. Ford insisted on adding more fruits and vegetables to the cart. “You need to eat a variety of produce to get all the nutrients the baby needs,” he explained to me. He’d been reading pregnancy books and surfing the web finding information. He was practically a pregnancy encyclopedia by then.
“I get that, Ford, but you’re going to have to help me eat them. I can’t eat all of that before it goes bad!” I exclaimed, looking at the bunches of bananas, dozens of oranges and apples, bag of grapes, carrots, tomatoes, strawberries, and something I didn’t know the name of he’d placed in the buggy.
“Yeah, I’ll help you eat it. We both should be eating better,” Ford declared, patting his stomach. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement. He made it a point to swim laps every day and worked out a few times a week, plus moving heavy furniture. I’d had the privilege of seeing him shirtless, and he was without a doubt the fittest man I knew. I’d seen Colt and some of his friends shirtless, but they couldn’t hold a candle to Ford. I didn’t know if it was because he was older or what, but his muscle definition was incredible. I could write sonnets about his six pack abs and the cut of his hips, but that might prove to Olivia that she was right. I was smiling to myself at the thought, when Ford asked, “What are you smiling about?”
“Your abs,” I replied, without thinking. I flushed immediately, as Ford smirked at me and I stuttered, “I mean that you obviously don’t need to eat better, because you’re so built … I mean, fit,” shaking my head, because I was only making it worse.
“You think I’m hot. You think I’m sexy,” Ford started singing, as we went down the aisle. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Are you done?” I said tartly, nudging him with my hip. “I’m starving. Grocery shopping is making me hungry.”
“Really? Is it the grocery shopping, or my hot body that has you hungry?” he asked, with utmost seriousness. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, so I decided to give it back to him.
“Well, eating an ice cream sundae off your washboard abs would satisfy me completely,” I said, blinking at him innocently as his mouth dropped open. I couldn’t hold it though and busted out laughing.
“You dirty little minx,” he muttered, as I pushed the buggy on. We finally finished the grocery shopping and got in line. I piled the groceries on the conveyor belt and asked him, “Am I buying the groceries today?”
“Nah, I sold another piece today. I want you saving your money,” he replied, helping me.
“What!?! Another piece? That’s awesome!” I said excitedly. I knew he loved it when one of his pieces sold. He looked a little embarrassed, as he admitted, “Yeah, the banquet table and server. It was a good sale.”
“I’m so happy for you. Your work is awesome and I’m glad people see it,” I told him, absurdly proud of him. He put his soul into the pieces he designed and built, and it was easy to see the craftsmanship in his work. It was hard for me to understand why he wasted his incredible talent by becoming a lawyer, but family had a way of twisting your dreams.
As we left the store, I saw my mother coming in. She stared straight at me, and I felt Ford wrap his arm around my shoulder when he recognized her. Ford attempted to greet her, and she sneered at him and walked by without acknowledging us.
“That woman,” Ford growled, rubbing my shoulder and hurrying us to the car. “I’m sorry.”
That’s the first time I’d seen her, since the day she threw me out of the house. Ford was hurriedly putting the groceries in the trunk, as I stood there, lost in thought. He got me in the car, and we sat there for a minute.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.
I pondered that for a moment before I replied, “Yes, I think I am.”
“Okay, good,” he said hesitantly, starting the car and backing out. I stared out the car window, thinking about everything. The last few weeks living with Ford had been some of the happiest of my life. My parent’s house had always been cold and unforgiving. It had never felt like a home, but I’d never thought I’d lose it.
“It hurt. That day. She didn’t even look at me. She wouldn’t even give me a chance to talk. I’m her daughter. She gave birth to me. She carried me. Like I’m carrying this baby. I can’t imagine ignoring my child like that,” I said, the words flooding out of me, as if a dam had finally burst. “But what’s new? I was never good enough for her. Nothing I did pleased her. Perfect wasn’t possible. The only time she seemed remotely happy was when I dated Colt, like it was a status symbol or something. And Father, he never bothered. Just thumped the Bible and quoted Scripture. Expected me to be at church and obey. Obey. Always obey.” I was spitting the words out at this point. Rage and hurt poured out of me. Feelings I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.
Ford reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me into his lap. I was sobbing by then and he rocked gently, rubbing his hand on my back to sooth me. I don’t know how long we sat there before my sobs subsided and he handed me his hankie.
“I love your hankie,” I whispered, blowing my nose. I felt his lips press against my forehead and he said, “I’m glad to hear that. It’s really yours. I just keep it in my pocket for you.” I smiled at the thought and looked around.
“You drove us home?” I said, realizing we were at the apartment.
“Yeah, I wanted to get you away from her and get you home. I was trying to make it before the meltdown. I almost succeeded.” He gave me a soft smile, and I realized I was still sitting in his lap. I started wiggling, and he picked me up and put me in the other seat.
“You make that look easy,” I told him, awed at the ease with which he moved me around.
“You’re tiny. I lift more than you weigh,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“I’m going to get big eventually,” I replied, surprisingly eager for the day I had visible proof of my pregnancy.
“And I’ll still be able to pick you up and move you.”
He looked at me searchingly, “Do you want to talk about it?” I knew he was referring to my meltdown and the non-meeting with my mother.
“Yes and no,” I replied, feeling mixed up.
“Go upstairs and change into a pair of my sweats. I’ll get the groceries unloaded and start supper. You’ll feel better after you eat,” he told me, hopping out of the car.
I did what he said, smiling as I pulled his sweats on. They were massively huge on me, but I loved them. Ford figured it out a couple of weeks ago when he found me on the couch binge watching Grimm, wearing his sweats.
My belly was a little bloated, but I hadn’t gained much weight, so it wasn’t like I needed the room. The doctor assured us this was normal and I’d put weight on in the coming months. Ford stressed, because he said I looked too small to carry a baby.
“It’s late, and I don’t feel like trying something new. Breakfast okay with you?” I heard Ford say from the kitchen.
“Yummy! I think breakfast is my favorite,” I replied, shuffling into the kitchen, his sweats dragging the floor. Ford shook his head at the sight I made and kneeled down to roll up my pants legs. “I don’t need you tripping.”
I peered down at his head. “You need a haircut,” I told him, running my hand over his curls. When I first met him, he’d kept his hair longer, and you could see how curly it was, but it an
noyed him when girls would gush over his curls. Now he kept it short and it just looked wavy.
“Can you take the clippers to it tomorrow?” he asked, getting up. He used to buzz cut it, but I thought he needed a little more style, so I’d taken to cutting it for him. I’d become pretty handy with the clippers.
“Yep. Are we going to Joe’s tomorrow?”
“Yes, I actually need to deliver the pieces I sold, and Joe wanted some help with a headboard he’s making for a client,” Ford said, as he got bacon out of the fridge.
“I want pancakes,” I piped up, in case he was thinking eggs. He threw me a smile, “I knew that.”
“You ever get tired of knowing everything?” I joked, climbing on the barstool.
“Nope,” he tossed back. “Are we gonna talk about your parents?”
I started talking, giving him my answer.
“I think I was upset, because I’m happy,” I told him. He gave me a look like I was crazy, and I tried to explain. “I’m happy here with you. And it highlights how unhappy I was with my parents. I’d never understood how cold and restrictive it was. It hurt when they ignored me, but they’d been ignoring me for years, and I couldn’t see it. The day she threw me out I was devastated, because I didn’t know what I was going to do. But now, looking back, I’m thankful.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “Seeing her today reminded me of what I left behind. While our life may be unconventional, by every estimation, I’m happy.”
Ford walked over to me and grabbed my hands. “I’m glad.” He paused and continued, “I’m happy too. I never expected any of this, but I wouldn’t change it.”
Ford
Chapter Seven
A couple weeks later, I came home and found Hannah crying on the couch. I immediately thought something was wrong with the baby. She had a doctor’s appointment that morning I couldn’t go to, because my dad insisted I be at work. If something had gone wrong and I wasn’t there for her, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself. I dropped my keys and rushed to the couch.
‘What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her and pulling out a hankie. She took the hankie from me and mopped her face. “The baby is fine. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She gave a little hiccup, but didn’t continue.
“Then why are you crying?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting to set her off again, but needing to know. I was hoping it was something as simple as clothes that didn’t fit. She’d finally started showing and her clothes weren’t fitting anymore. She had a crying jag the other morning, because she couldn’t button her pants. I’d shown her how to loop a rubber band through the hole and hook it on the button to make it work. But I knew she needed to get some maternity clothes soon.
“The doctor wanted to schedule an ultrasound,” she told me, and I thought maybe it was something to do with the baby. “They told me I could find out the gender if I wanted. They were going to do it today, but I wanted to wait till you could go.”
My heart gave a heavy thud at the thought that she wanted me there. “I’d love to be there for the ultrasound. But I still don’t understand why you’re crying.”
“I don’t want to know the gender. I always figured it should be a surprise, you know? I’d find out when the baby was born.” She gave another hiccup and tears started running down her face again. “But I have to give my baby up when it’s born and it hurts.” She dissolved into tears again and cupped her little belly.
I rocked her gently and settled my hand over hers. Now I understood her tears. She wanted to be surprised, but at the same time this wasn’t a normal pregnancy and it wasn’t going to have a happy ending. I didn’t know how to comfort her. There was nothing I could say to make this better.
She finally calmed down and fell asleep in my arms. I sat there holding her, trying to find a way out of our impossible situation.
The next morning, I woke to see her staring at me. I’d eventually laid her down in her bed and went to sleep in my own.
A few days after she’d moved in, I’d kept my promise and found a guy getting rid of a twin bed. The apartment wasn’t that big, so we’d had to wedge the twin bed into the corner of the bedroom. We were technically sharing a bedroom, but we had our own beds. She’d fought me when I told her I was sleeping in the twin bed, arguing it was too short. She was right, but I wasn’t budging on this. She took my California king, while I slept on the twin.
“Hmmm, do I have drool on my face?” I asked, wiping my face in case I did. That got a smile out of her.
“Nope, but you do talk in your sleep,” she replied. I raised an eyebrow. First I’d ever heard of that. “Yep, you think unicorns are magical and believe in time travel and want to sing on Broadway,” she answered, causing me to laugh. I knew she was making it up then.
“I went ahead and scheduled the ultrasound. I forgot to tell you that yesterday with all my crying.”
“You have every right to cry,” I told her. We’d been living in a bubble, but reality was quickly approaching. School was starting in a few weeks for both of us, and everything was going to be more complicated.
“Maybe, but I have to be strong. I decided I don’t want to know what I’m having. In fact, I think I don’t want to know, even when the baby is born. I want you at the ultrasound with me. And I need your help with finding an adoption agency,” she stated firmly. I could tell this was difficult for her to get out, so I refrained from offering sympathy.
I noticed she was wearing my shirt, and it was slipping off her shoulder. She’d been wearing my clothes more often, because they were comfortable. I couldn’t help a tingle of possessiveness seeing her wearing my clothes to bed. I rubbed my hand over my face to erase the thought. I felt uncomfortable sitting on my bed talking to her wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. We’d been living together for a couple of months by then, but this was the first time I’d felt uncomfortable.
“When is the ultrasound? I’ll make sure I have the time off,” I asked, in an effort to distract myself.
“It’s tomorrow at three. I thought it’d be easier for you to get off early,” she replied, watching me. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes drifted to my chest before jerking back to my face. I’d read that women could become horny in their second trimester, but it seemed to be having an effect on both of us.
“Okay, that shouldn’t be an issue. I’m going to take a quick shower,” I said, leaving out the part that it would be cold. “You know, we should probably get some maternity clothes for you.”
“Yeah, I guess we can go this weekend,” she replied, looking down as I skirted around the bed to the bathroom. I glanced back and caught her eye. She’d been checking out my ass. She flushed and looked away. I was laughing, as I shut the bathroom door. It was going to be a very cold shower.
I dropped Hannah off at the leasing office the next morning, because it would be easier for me to pick her up on the way to the ultrasound.
“Oh, no,” I heard Hannah whisper, as she got out.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Olivia saw us. She’s going to ask why you’re dropping me off. Ugh, I don’t want to lie to her,” she said, frowning. I knew she liked Olivia a lot, and keeping secrets wasn’t Hannah’s way.
“Then tell her the truth,” I replied. “She’ll understand.” Hannah nodded at me quickly before shutting the door and walking in.
She pounced the second I walked in. “Okay, chica, when are you going to tell me the truth?” Olivia demanded. I sighed and walked to my desk, putting my purse and lunch down. I sat down too, because I didn’t know if I could have this conversation standing up.
“You show up wearing a man’s shirt … Ford’s if I’m not mistaken. He dropped you off at work, which, since Ford lives in this complex, makes me think you were at his place this morning. Oh, and I’ve noticed that your boobs are bigger and your shirts are loose. Are you pregnant? Is it Ford’s? What about Colt? And your parents? Girl, what is going on?” Olivia plopped on the edge of my
desk, after her stream of questions.
I opened my mouth and closed it. Her eyebrows went up and I opened my mouth and the whole story spilled out. I watched the expression change on Olivia’s face, as I told her. She went from shocked to outraged, teary eyed, and finally outraged again. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” she finally demanded. “We are friends. I would have helped you. You lived in your car!” she continued, as I tried to interrupt and give an excuse. “And let’s make this clear. You are not going maternity shopping with Ford. That’s my job. I’m now officially your best friend. That means we shop for maternity clothes together.”
I couldn’t help the tears. She seemed to understand without me saying anything and gave me a hug. “Girl, I’m here. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be the most stylish pregnant high school senior ever.” I choked on my tears, as I laughed. She knew what I needed to hear.
The Anderson Brothers Complete Series Page 6