Page 120 of Renegade Rift
But this feels like crossing a line. We’ve done our best to keep things professional while in the kitchen. And it’s been amazing to cook and collaborate with Sophia. She really is the best at what she does for a reason. Her attention to detail is unmatched when it comes to the menu we’re curating for the new restaurant.
Apparently, it’s also keenly attuned to my anxiety this morning.
Wary of what this means, I plant a hand on my hip and narrow my gaze. “If I say no, are you going to pull some voodoo mind tricks like Ford and find some roundabout way to get me to talk about it anyways?”
“Huh.” She lifts her knife and tilts her head to the side. “He really does do that, doesn’t he?”
“Every single time. Or I just feel bad afterward that I wasn’t honest because it’s almost like kicking a puppy who just wants your love and affection. Which is almost worse.”
“Holy shit, how have I never put that together?”
“I’m sure you have. You just chalk it up to Ford being Ford.” I know I have. It drives me absolutely insane, but also the consistency is something I appreciate. With it comes a safety I’ve never really experienced. My parents were never big on emotion. They are more likely to see the world in black and white than explore the wonders in shades of gray.
Sophia goes back to slicing her pile of carrots, musing as she does. “He’s just so damn unassuming. Even when he’s angry, he’d still give you the shirt off his back.”
“Right?” I mean, maybe not if it was Earl the enforcer asking, but anyone else, absolutely. “It still blows my mind that Ford is the same guy I went to high school with.”
“Was he really that different?”
I pick up a head of garlic and separate the cloves. “To be honest, I don’t really know. We didn’t talk much back then.”
“You know he mentioned you before?”
I halt my movements and snap my head up. “He did?”
“Yeah, when he found out I owned a restaurant and was the head chef. It was around the time his mom got sick and she started trying to talk him into fixing things with Tyler. He told me all about how you wanted to become a chef and how he hoped you’d gone on to live those dreams.”
“I…I didn’t think he remembered me.” Or at least that’s what Tyler had me believe. I now know it was all a twisted truth, but at the time, it was my reality.
And yet, Ford still thought about me with hope.
Sophia nods with a gentle lift of her lips. “And then after a few too many tequilas mentioned that he wished he would’ve had the balls to talk to you since he saw you first.”
For the second time I send what I’m holding clattering onto the countertop, and this time my jaw drops right alongside the garlic. “What?”
“Something about chemistry class,” she says, waving her knife around as if it isn’t some huge revelation meant to rock my entire existence.
He—of course, Ford saw me first, I reason. We shared a class together.
But he wanted to talk to me?
I close my eyes and picture him standing there in his blue and gold letterman jacket. God, we were so young.
Then a whole lifetime flashes before my eyes—one where Ford did make a move first.
There are high school dances and acceptance letters to colleges in faraway states.
Images of baseball games, surfing, andDungeons and Dragons.
Naked trysts and pleas for more.
None of them are real, but the pang in my heart tells me maybe in another life they could’ve been.
“You look surprised,” Sophia says, setting down her knife.
“I didn’t realize he’d ever thought of me that way.” My brow furrows as I try to compartmentalize this new information. “Tyler and I started dating just after the first week of school that year. Ford never stood a chance.”
I thought it was love at first sight.Clearly, I didn’t know what love was.
