by Vi Keeland
I still hadn’t heard from Ford. I’d sent a text earlier, which showed as read, but he’d never responded. I checked my phone for the tenth time, even though it hadn’t vibrated. The last text was the one I’d sent him.
Valentina: I had a great time last night, and I’m sorry about what happened this morning. Let me know what train I should pick you up on later.
I sighed. He had gone into the city for a meeting, so that could be the reason he hadn’t responded yet. Though, deep down, I knew that wasn’t it.
Hours later, it became harder to make up an excuse and tell myself everything was fine. So I decided to send another text.
Valentina: Hey. Just checking in. Do you know what train you’ll be on yet?
A few minutes later my phone buzzed.
Ford: Change of plans. Not coming back tonight.
Valentina: Oh. Okay. Everything go okay with your meeting?
Ford: Fine.
Valentina: See you Sunday, then?
Ford: Sure.
I knew we needed to talk in person, but I had to at least attempt to apologize again.
Valentina: I’m really sorry about this morning. Ryan showing up threw me for a loop.
Ford: No problem. No reason to tell your ex about your casual fucks.
He was hurt and lashing out. Taking the bait and arguing over text would only make things worse. So I tried not to.
Valentina: Dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook something for us.
Ford: Don’t go to any trouble. Dinner isn’t necessary. Maybe you could pencil me in to come over about eight to fuck you?
I deserve that.
Valentina: Eight sounds good. See you Sunday. I can’t wait.
Not surprisingly, my sentiment wasn’t returned.
Chapter 20
* * *
Ford
“Remember that dream I had about all the purple flowers at a funeral last week?”
Mrs. Peabody didn’t even say hello. She just started talking when I answered the phone.
“Hey, Mrs. P.” I tossed my pen on my desk and leaned back into my chair. “Yeah, of course I remember. You had a strong premonition during the day that someone was going to die, and then you dreamed of a funeral with tons of purple flowers.”
“I threw up twice that day. But that might’ve been because of the tuna casserole this hellhole serves for lunch on Tuesdays. I despise Tuesdays. Who the heck thought it was a good idea to put mayonnaise in the oven anyway?”
I laughed for the first time today. “So what about the funeral? Did someone actually die?”
“Yep. The woman in the room next to me. Didn’t wake up on Sunday. They drop like flies around here in the summer. They say more people die in the two weeks following Christmas than any other time, but not at this place. It’s summer, for sure.”
“Were there purple flowers at her funeral?”
“Nope. Didn’t have a funeral. Just went straight to the crematory. Kids didn’t want to waste any of their inheritance, I’m sure. I prepaid for mine so I wouldn’t get cheated. Anyway, just wanted to tell you I was right again.”
“Not for nothing, Mrs. P, but you live in an assisted living facility with senior citizens who have health problems. I’m not sure you can call this one a premonition.” I reached for the coffee on my desk.
“That may be true. I suppose someone probably dies every week in this place. But the woman who kicked the bucket? Her name was Violet.”
I was mid coffee swallow and coughed it down the wrong pipe. “The woman’s name was Violet?”
“Mmmm-hmmm. So quit your doubting me, boy.”
We talked for fifteen minutes. Mrs. P told me her daughter had called and was planning to come visit, though I’d heard that a few times, and she still hadn’t shown up in all the years I’d been talking to her. She also complained about the physical therapist and the dentist—both of whom she swore were bilking her insurance because there was nothing really wrong with her.
“So how are things with the future Mrs. Donovan?” she finally asked.
I frowned. “Not sure you got that one right. Things aren’t going like I thought they would.”
“Welp. I call ’em like I see ’em. I can’t control if you go and screw things up. You met the woman destined to be your wife. Lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time a man threw a wrench into his own future.”
“What makes you so sure it’s me who’s screwing things up?”
“Because you just said things aren’t going like I thought they would.”
“So?”
“You don’t sit around expecting things to happen the way you’d like. You make them happen, dumbass.”
***
My afternoon meeting had been uptown.
I could’ve hopped in a cab afterward or even jumped on the subway located right in front of the building. But instead I decided to walk the thirty-something blocks back to my apartment. It was a nice summer evening. Going a few blocks out of my way to walk along the park wasn’t that unusual.
The fact that I happened to pass a certain French bistro—that was total coincidence, too. I lingered out front for a minute before deciding to go in. Why not stop in and have a beer since I was in the neighborhood? I didn’t even know if Eve would be here. Sure, she’d said she worked six days a week, but today could have been her only day off.
An older man in a suit stood at the front host area.
“Can I help you? Do you have a reservation for this evening?”
“Umm. I don’t.”
He used a finger to scan down a pretty full list of names and times. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any tables available.”
I looked around the restaurant and didn’t see any sign of Eve. My shoulders slumped, but I nodded. “Thanks, anyway.”
Just as I turned to walk back out, I heard my name. “Ford?”
“Hey.”
Eve walked out from a door toward the rear of the restaurant. I assumed maybe it was the kitchen.
“I was just…walking by and saw the place and…”
Eve smiled and came over to hug me. She absolutely knew I was full of shit, but seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Come in. Let’s go sit at the bar.”
While she went around to the other side and made us both drinks, I checked out the restaurant. The place was really nice—tons of glass along the front that showcased the park across the street. The dining room had dark wood mixed with hot pink tablecloths and at least a dozen different, ornate crystal chandeliers. Oddly, it reminded me a lot of Eve’s personality.
“This place is really nice—kind of funky, yet traditional at the same time.”
She hopped up on the barstool next to me. “I’ve been here seven years.” She tilted her head toward a table in the corner. “Tom sat right over there for nineteen consecutive days until I agreed to go out with him.”
“What made you finally give in?”
“That night, the hostess told me he’d requested a reservation at the same table, at the same time, for a year.” She shrugged. “I figured any man who was that persistent was worth a date.”
I lifted the drink she’d set down in front of me. “A year, huh? I only have until Labor Day.”
Eve patted my hand resting on the bar. “I’m glad you just happened to be passing by. You know, my issues with Tom weren’t all that different than what’s going on in Val’s head. When I met him, I was thirty, and he was fifty. I joke that he’s old enough to be my father, but it was never the number that scared me. It was that we were in different places in our life. He was financially stable and thinking about retirement accounts. He’d made all of his mistakes and learned from them—he knew what he wanted. I, on the other hand, had just maxed out my credit cards buying designer waitress uniforms for a restaurant I didn’t know if I’d be able to pay the next month’s rent on, and I’d picked the last guy I dated because he had dimples—even though he was an unemployed, wannabe actor.”
“What mad
e you get over the differences?”
She smiled and laughed. “I’m not sure I have. I still think four thousand for a Chanel bag is a better investment in my future than an IRA. I doubt we’ll ever see eye to eye on lots of things. But after our first date, he became my go-to person for stories. Silly things—I used to call my parents or Val to tell them something funny a customer did, or I’d call them to vent about my landlord raising my rent. Up until then, I’d never shared the small things that happened each day with anyone I dated. I’d get dressed up and go out on a date, have a solid time… I thought those dinners and nights out were life—but they weren’t. Life is the little things that happen between the fancy outings.”
I nodded. “I get it. But Val and I aren’t really in that different of a place in life.”
“Val thinks you’re supposed to be in a different place. She basically missed out on dating and everything that comes with being single in your twenties because she had Ryan so young. Plus, she’s gun-shy about relationships in general. Her ex-husband really burned her. She was a good wife—loyal and trusting. She didn’t see it coming when he cheated on her. And the fact that the woman was a young girl—she’s got to be thinking if her husband can do that…think about how things will go when she’s in her fifties and you’re still in your thirties.”
My shoulders slumped. “Are you trying to make me feel better? Because you’re doing a pretty shitty job.”
Eve smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, my only advice to you is to be patient. The more she enjoys each day with you, the more she’ll realize what’s important. She needs to figure things out on her own, and that’s going to take some time. But I can promise you one thing…she’s worth the wait.”
***
I didn’t like the way she’d handled shit.
I didn’t want to be just a summer fling
I didn’t like being hidden from her ex.
But Val had never been intentionally hurtful.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing.
I’d tried my hardest to make her feel like shit.
I’ll be over to fuck you at eight.
And for that, I owed her an apology.
I knocked and waited, looking down at my feet.
Val’s smile was hesitant when she came to the door. She also didn’t fully open it to invite me in. “Hey. I didn’t think you were back until later.”
“I jumped on an earlier train.” I looked up at her and caught her eyes. “I’m sorry for the shit I said over text, Val.”
She stepped back and opened the door wide. “It’s me who should be apologizing. Come in.”
For the entire two-hour train ride out here, I’d thought about what Eve had said—how I needed to give Val some space to find her own way. That had been my plan…until I walked into the living room and hauled her against me.
Yeah. Great plan for space.
I buried my face in her hair and inhaled deep. “I fucking missed you.”
“I’m sorry I pretended you were only here to fix the pipes when Ryan showed up, and I’m sorry I let him refer to you as the boy next door.”
“I get it.” I pulled back and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I hate it. But I get it. He was your husband for twenty years, and…you’re still telling yourself this is just a summer fling.”
“Ford…”
I pulled her against me and quieted her against my chest. “Let me finish my apology and then you can talk if you want. Okay?”
She nodded.
“People bring history into new relationships—past experiences, good or bad. You’re bringing blown trust, cheating, and disappointment with you. So you’re hesitant to get attached too fast. The biggest relationship influence I had in my life wasn’t even my own. I grew up watching my parents—who were very much in love and had their time cut too short. So I’m anxious to move forward, afraid to let something good slip through my fingers because we never know how much time we have.”
Val leaned back. She looked bewildered. “Are we sure I’m the one who’s twelve years older? Because honestly, you sound a lot more mature than I’ve acted lately.”
I pressed my lips to her forehead.
When she looked up at me, she smiled sadly. “I’m sorry about making you feel I wanted to hide what’s going on between us.”
I studied her eyes. “What is going on between us, Val?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But is it possible to have the right feelings at the wrong time? I feel like I’m not ready for anything serious, even though I’m sort of crazy about you. There are so many things I should do for me first.”
It fucking hurt to hear she thought it was the wrong time, but she’d come out of a twenty-year marriage and had only been with one man. I guess it was better she knew now that things with us couldn’t be forever, rather than figuring it out a year down the road.
What were my choices? Take what she was capable of giving me or walking away. The way I felt, I had no choice.
I swallowed. “Let’s just enjoy each other for the rest of the summer.”
Chapter 21
* * *
Valentina
“I passed!” I covered my mouth in disbelief and stared at my name on the screen.
Valentina Di Giovanni Davis
New York State Teacher Certification Exam- passed
Content Specialty Test - Italian – passed
It was right there in black and white, yet it still felt surreal. My phone started to buzz with incoming texts. Results were posted right at eight a.m., so I knew my friends were getting theirs, too.
Ford came out from the shower in my bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I passed!”
“Holy shit. It’s eight o’clock already?”
I nodded, unable to stop smiling. He walked over to the bed and scooped me up, swinging me around in a circle.
“Congratulations. I’m fucking a teacher. That’s kind of hot.”
I read the flurry of texts from my friends. Mark passed. Desiree passed. Allison passed. “We all did it!”
“That’s great. We need to celebrate.”
I sat down on the bed and texted back to my friends. Ford sat next to me with a proud smile on his face.
“It feels surreal,” I said. “Ten years ago when we had trouble getting pregnant, I decided to enroll in one Italian class. My son had just started second grade, and I needed something. Ryan told me it was a waste of money. I don’t know why, but I didn’t tell him I was thinking of becoming a teacher. I actually took one class a semester for a few years before telling him my plan.” I shrugged. “I knew he would say I didn’t need a full-time job. He saw my wanting to do something for me as some sort of insult to him as the financial provider. And now, ten years later, here I am, finally done—the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I’m ready for a change.”
Ford slid his hand up and down my bare thigh. “I’m proud of you. I know I wasn’t there for the years you worked on things, but I know firsthand how difficult it can be to get caught up in the life you’re in and forget about your own dreams.”
I nodded. He definitely understood.
Ford got up from the bed. “I would love to stay and spend the day celebrating inside of you, but I have to be in the office. What do you say we celebrate tonight at my place? Pack a bag and stay overnight.”
“Okay…but pack a bag? I can just run next door if I need something.”
“I meant my place in the city. I want to show you my apartment anyway, and we need to celebrate. Take the train in, and let’s stay tonight.”
I loved the city and did feel like celebrating. A change of scenery would be fun. “That sounds great. I’ll take the train later and meet you wherever.”
***
Ford had texted me to wear something sexy. Then twenty minutes before I was to leave to catch a train into the city, a black limousine pulled up in front of my house. He’d sent a stretch for me, and when I
called him, he’d insisted I get in and said we were starting our celebration early.
Champagne was already open and waiting when I got in the backseat. So I asked the driver to wait a few minutes and ran back into the house to change. I’d originally considered a skimpy, royal blue, halter-top dress and stilettos, but it had felt over the top to wear it on the train. Though, wearing it in the back of a limousine made me feel like I was heading out for a special night.
The driver had been instructed not to tell me where we were going, and Ford was being coy about dinner. As we wound our way through Manhattan, excitement built within me. It was a crystal-clear night, and the city was lit up outside the tinted windows. I felt like a kid in a candy store, waiting to see what delicious treat the shop owner had for me.
But the excitement I felt about the city was totally eclipsed by the man standing at the curb when the limo slowed and pulled to the sidewalk. Ford was dressed in a suit, his feet planted wide, hands casually tucked into his pants pockets while he watched the stretch approach. He buttoned his jacket and leaned down to open the back door as we rolled to a stop. Extending a hand, he greeted me with an insanely sexy smile. It took me longer than it should have to give him my hand because I was too busy drooling.
God, Ford looked incredible. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow, and the perfection of the tailored suit contrasted so uniquely with the messiness of his hair. It looked like he didn’t give a shit, and that upped the sexiness barometer to a lethal level.
I wet my dry lips and finally got out. “You look so handsome.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close for a tender kiss. He mumbled against my lips, “Have you ever had sex in the back of a limo? Please tell me you have so I don’t push you back inside and fuck up this night right from the start.”
I smiled. “I haven’t. But I’m not opposed to skipping dessert and having it in the car later.”
He took a step back and shook his head. “You look…beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. And so incredibly fuckable at this moment.”