I thought about it. Really thought. The past couple years had been nothing but holding my breath, waiting for the next disaster. But right now, with the smell of fresh bread in the air and the promise of something new on the horizon, I felt . . . okay. Maybe even better than okay. The bakery buzzed with the low, hopeful hum of a day still unfolding.
“Yeah,” I said, surprising myself. “I think I am.”
Fourteen
Lily
The rest of the day went by in a sort of numb fast-forward. The bakery rush left a film of powdered sugar and sweat on my skin, and I could barely remember the orders I’d filled or the people I’d served. After my shift, I went home to scrub flour out of my hair, cleaned up three consecutive toddler disasters, and tried not to overthink the dinner. That didn’t work.
I changed shirts three times before giving up and settling on a simple blue tee, the least-wrinkled of the bunch, and a blue and gray plaid skirt that skimmed my knees. I braided my hair, then decided I hated it and took it out so it fell in waves. Noah was obsessed with his “fancy shirt” (which was just his Spider-Man pajama top), and after five minutes of negotiation, I decided that “fancy” was a state of mind, not a dress code.
At exactly 5:55, the rumble of an engine in the parking lot made my heart drop into my stomach. Noah was at the window in a blink, flattening his hands on the glass and pressing his nose against it so hard I could see the shape of his nostrils from across the room.
“Mama! Mr. Ford is here!” he yelled, then sprinted in socked feet toward the door.
I took a breath, steadied my hands, and carried Noah down the stairs. Outside, Ford stood leaning against a truck that could have doubled as a small tank. It was all shiny new metal and oversized tires, so out of place next to the ancient sedans of my neighbors that it looked like someone had copy-pasted it into the scene.
He wore jeans and a deep blue shirt, sleeves once again rolled to his forearms. The wind had gotten to his hair, which flopped in a perfect curl over one brow. His glasses glinted in the evening light, and for a second, he looked less like a billionaire and more like someone who genuinely belonged in a place like this. Maybe he really did.
He saw us and grinned, the kind of smile that made me forget how to breathe.
“I was waiting until six p.m. sharp to ring the buzzer,” he said with a smirk.
Noah was out the door before I could stop him, barreling across the lot with both arms outstretched. “Pick me up! Pick me up, Ford!”
Ford dropped to a squat and scooped Noah up in a smooth, practiced motion, spinning him once. “Hey, buddy! You all ready for steak and chaos?”
Noah giggled, clinging to Ford’s neck like a monkey. “Are we gonna see cows?”
“Depends if you behave yourself,” Ford said, then fixed me with a look that made my face go warm. “You look beautiful,” he said, voice dropping to just above a whisper.
I ducked my head, too embarrassed to answer, which in turn made me even more embarrassed. “You ready, Bug?” I said to Noah.
He gave a double thumbs up, then pointed dramatically at Ford’s truck. “Whoa. That’s a monster truck!”
Ford laughed. “Guess it is.” He set Noah on his hip, then reached for my hand to help me down the steps. His hand was big, rough at the palm but warm, and he didn’t let go until we reached the truck.
I didn’t look back up at the windows. If I did, I’d probably see the old lady on the third floor watching us and making mental notes for her next phone call to her gossip circle.
“Oh! I forgot Noah’s car seat. I don’t have a car, but I have one I use for when we ride in other people’s.”
His lips turned down in a quick frown, but he quickly hid it. “Nah, don’t worry about that.”
“No, I mean, it’s safest for him to be in a carseat.”
He smiled now. “I know.”
Ford opened the passenger door, helping me up and into the monster truck. I only lost my balance a little. Then he opened the back door for Noah, leaning in and buckling him into a brand new car seat I suspected hadn’t been there that morning.
“When did you get a car seat?” I asked, genuinely baffled.
He shrugged, not making a big deal out of it. “Figured I’d need one if I wanted to hang out with my new best friend.”
Noah beamed, then immediately started fiddling with the buttons on the harness.
Ford grinned at me as he climbed in with all the grace of a seasoned cowboy hopping on a horse. “He’s gonna figure out how to escape that thing before we get to the next stop sign.”
“He’s talented,” I said, sliding my seatbelt across me. I almost commented on how the truck still smelled new, but stopped myself.
