The rest of us sat—Ford next to me—and plates were filled, and wine was poured. The conversation ebbed and flowed, Walker telling a story about nearly burning down a hay barn; Eryn talking about yoga class disasters; Sutton bragging about Noah’s record for most muffins eaten in a single bakery visit.
Ford kept glancing at me, and every time our eyes met, I felt something warm flicker to life in my chest.
We dug in, plates loaded with steak and chicken, roasted vegetables, homemade bread. Noah sat next to Ford, who cut his meat into perfect cubes and made up stories about each piece (“This one is a rocket ship. This one is a T-Rex, but he’s trying to be polite”). I watched Ford’s hands, the way he poured me a glass of wine before I asked, the way he stole glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking.
Conversation bounced around the table, sometimes serious, mostly not. Eryn told a story about a yoga class gone wrong; Walker interrupted with jokes; Caroline chimed in with a hilarious story from her clinic about a farmer who tried to superglue his stitches shut but ended up gluing his handstogether. I mostly listened, feeling the hum of it all sink into my bones.
But the real surprise was how often Ford and I ended up in our own little orbit. Every time our hands brushed, it was like a live wire. When we talked, the rest of the table faded out. He asked me about books, about what I wanted to do with my life, about my best memory from childhood. I wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention, but Ford made it feel like the most natural thing in the world.
At one point, I caught Eryn watching us with a sly smile. She winked and mouthed, “Into you.” I rolled my eyes, but it sure seemed like she was right.
After the first round of food, Eryn raised her glass. “We never toasted. That seems like bad luck. Gray?”
He looked annoyed for half a second, but pinched Eryn’s side and gave her a kiss, before standing and raising his own glass. “Uh, to old friends, new family, and not letting the past dictate the future.” Everyone cheered and toasted.
“Damn, brother, that was weirdly eloquent for you.” Walker teased.
“I can be fucking eloquent when I need to be,” he grumbled.
I looked around, realizing how much had changed in just a few hours. I wasn’t the odd one out anymore. I was part of this.
Ford’s knee brushed mine under the table, and he left it there. I smiled, and he smiled back, like we were in on a secret.
As the night went on, the house got louder, the food more comforting, the laughter deeper. The sense of belonging, of finally being somewhere I didn’t have to hide, settled into me with a sweetness that made me ache.
And as Ford squeezed my hand beneath the table, I realized I wasn’t scared of hope anymore.
Fifteen
Ford
After dinner, the kitchen was loud with clatter and noise, kids underfoot, Walker wrangling the last empty beer bottles, and Eryn scooping up abandoned napkins from the floor. I tried to help clear the table, but every time I reached for a plate, someone else snatched it first, insisting I just relax and let them do their thing. Eventually I wound up by the sink with Lily, her hands wrist-deep in soapy water as she washed the last of the wine glasses.
Noah and Abby were already back to their game of Monster Garage, crashing plastic trucks into the leg of the kitchen island and shrieking every time a truck tumbled off the edge. I watched Lily as she worked, her face soft in the glow of the under-cabinet lights, her hair doing a pretty little wavy thing I decided I liked a whole hell of a lot. She looked happy. Not just polite-happy, but deep-down, warm-in-your-ribs happy.
I wanted to memorize this version of her: the little smile she got whenever Noah said something wild, the way she hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening, how she sighed peacefully when Noah was playing.
I had only just met her, but it felt like I knew her. Maybe a part of me did. That part of me that I’d kept hidden my wholelife; the one that comes back in flashbacks and nightmares. I didn’t want to presume, and no one really talked about it, but I could tell she’d had a rough go of it before. I wanted to ask her about it, to let her know she could open up to me. But I didn’t want to scare her off when we were only just beginning this . . . whatever this was.
“Hey, Ford?” Eryn sidled up behind me, arms full of dessert plates. She lowered her voice, eyes twinkling with some kind of mischief. “I have an idea.”
“Shoot,” I said, figuring she wanted to rope me into distracting Gray with something.
She looked at Lily, then back to me. “I know you practically grew up here with the boys, but so much has changed since y’all were kids. You should go check out the new stables out front. They’re Gray’s pride and joy. In fact, Lily’s never really seen them either. Why don’t you walk her down there and take a little tour? I think you’d both really like it.”
I could hear the capitalization on ‘both.’ We had a little matchmaker on our hands, but it got me alone time with Lily, so I wasn’t about to complain.
“Sounds good,” I said, probably too fast.
Lily looked up from the sink. “Is it okay if Noah comes, or . . . ?”
“I’ve got Noah covered!” Eryn called, also too fast, swooping over to collect the kids like a pro. “We’re going to make ice cream sundaes and watch cartoons. You go, have fun. Take your time.” She gave Lily’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then steered Noah and Abby toward the living room.
Lily dried her hands, mouth curving up in something I recognized as equal parts excitement and terror.
“Is she always like that?” I asked.
“Always,” she said with a laugh. “She’s basically a tornado in a model’s body.”
