Page 21

CHAPTER

TWENTY

FORD

We arrive at the jewelry store that afternoon and are led to a private room in the back, as I requested. The last thing I want to worry about while buying my wife a ring is people asking for photos or autographs. I realize the fans are a big part of my job, and I appreciate them…I do. But I don’t enjoy it. I’ve gotten better at pretending to enjoy it, but making small talk with strangers, even if they’re wearing a jersey with my number on it, is still painful.

Nella is strapped into her carrier, as per usual. I wonder if she’d like a stroller. I should buy her one.

The jewelry store owner, Mr. Vance, is the one who met us at the front and now opens a door leading to an office near the back of his store. He’s wearing a simple grey suit and pale pink tie. His hair is salt-and-pepper grey, and his hand has a simple gold wedding band, despite owning a store full of fancy rings.

As we step inside, I note the glass display case lined with navy blue velvet sitting on a large cherry-wood desk. Behind the desk is a black office chair, and in front of the desk sit two matching chairs. The overhead lights in the office seem to pour light directly onto the jewels, probably placed to make the diamonds sparkle all the more.

Amber releases a small, barely noticeable gasp as her eyes take in the gleaming diamonds. I smile to myself. Amber is a girly-girl. Always has been. Spoiling her will be so easy. I might enjoy it just as much as her, seeing her pretty face light up, knowing I’m the one who did that. It will never get old.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Vance says, stepping behind his desk.

Amber smiles at me, bouncing Nella. “Actually, I think I’ll stand so she stays happy.”

“Ah, yes, babies do like to be on the move.” He looks at Nella with a fondness that only a father could, someone who knows how fun babies can be.

I notice the family photo on his desk. Mr. Vance with his wife and three daughters. All grown now.

A pang of sadness unexpectedly hits me. How wonderful and simultaneously heartbreaking it must be to watch your children transform from small babies to grown adults. I’d never thought about it before. No wonder Mom tears up every time she looks at old photo albums.

I follow Amber to stand in front of the glass case and watch as she studies each wedding set.

“There are endless ring styles in the shop, but I selected one of each shape to get us started, and we can go from there.” Mr. Vance smiles, both of us watching Amber, who looks like a puppy with a new ball.

My eyes move away from Amber, briefly, to see the rings. They’re all pretty, but none of them look like Amber. I try to control my eyebrows, I really do. But like Amber says, they have a mind of their own.

“What are you thinking?” Amber asks, her voice quiet, but not a whisper.

“This isn’t about me. What do you think of the rings? ”

She looks up at me, then over at Mr. Vance and then the rings. “They’re all so beautiful.”

I know that tone, and I know there’s a but. And that she’s too nice to voice her opinion, especially since she’s uncomfortable with me spending money on her. Something she’s going to have to get used to.

“But none of them are your style?” I ask.

She rolls her lips together.

Glancing up at Mr. Vance, I give him a knowing look. One I’m sure he can interpret somehow since he sells jewelry for a living and has a houseful of women.

“Mr. Vance, I think we need some more…organic looking options. Does that make sense? Something earthy and unique? One of a kind.”

He grins. “Of course, I know just the collection for you. I’ll be right back.”

When the door snicks shut behind him, Amber laughs. “How do you read my mind like that?”

“Ambs, I’ve been watching you for twenty-six years.” The words are out of my mouth before I can change them and make them sound less intense. So I follow it up with, “I mean, we’ve been friends for a long time. I know your tells.”

She purses her lips, absently running one hand over her daughter’s head. “I always hated the ring Theo gave me. It was ostentatious yet plain at the same time. Just one big diamond with a simple band. I should’ve known right then he didn’t know me at all, but I ignored it, like all the other signs.” She sighs. “So, I have to know. If you picked out a ring for me by yourself, what would it look like?”

I grit my teeth, shoving down a snide comment about Theo. How he was always trying to change her when she’s perfect just the way she is. I school my features into a soft smile, changing my focus back to rings and what I’d get for her, if I was surprising her with a ring, I chose myself. “The band would curve around your finger, like a vine. It wouldn’t be a straight band. And the vine would be encrusted with tiny diamonds, just enough to twinkle when the light hits. A diamond would sit on top of the band, and it would be a unique shape, maybe an oval?” Biting my bottom lip, I try to picture what I’m describing, and liking what I’m seeing. “Yeah, an oval. And it would be a pink diamond. Not bright pink, but a very pale pink. The ring would be delicate, and when it was on your small finger, it would almost look like the tiniest garden.”

I nod my head, satisfied with the ring my brain came up with. Noticing Amber is deathly quiet, I glance at her and find her staring at me with wide eyes.

“What?” I ask. “Am I way off?” I can’t tell if she’s horrified by my description of the ring, or something else.

“Ford,” she says slowly. “Do you have Pinterest?”

I quirk my head to the side, unable to tell if that’s a serious question. “Um, no.”

“You’ve never been on Pinterest? Do you swear it on your life?”

“I swear it.”

Her voice lowers to a whisper, “I have a ring pinned to my wedding board that matches that exact description. It’s the only ring I’ve ever pinned.” She pulls her pink backpack off her back and removes her phone from a pocket, then starts frantically flipping and scrolling until she finds what she’s looking for. She turns the screen so I can see.

My jaw drops when I take in a photo that’s almost exactly what I just described. Except in the photo the vines have tiny green stones to look like real leaves. It’s feminine, and ethereal, and perfect for Amber. “Ambs, we have to get you this ring.”

“No,” she argues. “I can’t have my dream ring just to take it off in two years and never get to wear it again. It’s too heartbreaking.”

My stomach is in my throat. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course she doesn’t want to waste any of her dreams on this fake marriage. She’ll get all of that with her real love someday. And it won’t be me. I feel my shoulders sagging and have to make an effort to straighten my spine and square my shoulders again. “Right. Well, maybe we can find something sort of similar?”

Mr. Vance opens the door, entering with a cart loaded up with dark blue velvet boxes. “Okay, we have options now.” He grins.

When we leave the jewelry store, we’re both wearing official wedding rings. Mine is a simple platinum band—I’ll have to take it off for games anyway. But Amber’s is a delicate vintage style with a large emerald-cut diamond. Still unique, but totally different from her dream ring. Something about that niggles, and I can’t quite decide why it annoys me so much. Maybe the fact that she’s already thinking about the future with another man?

I take a step toward the parking lot where Amber’s shiny new pickup sits, but she stops me with a hand on my arm. “Actually, while we’re over here, do you mind stopping in that cute salon with me? I wanted to see if they have any booths available to rent.”

She starts walking that direction without waiting for me to respond. I quickly step in front of her, settling my hands on my waist. “You’re about to have surgery.”

She rolls her eyes and pushes past me. “I’m thinking about after the procedure, duh! I have to go back to work eventually, or I’ll go crazy and start painting every surface of your house. I have to have a creative outlet, Ford.”

I catch up to her, and she keeps talking. “And Luxurious Lather is so cute. I just want to check it out.”

With a sigh, I walk beside her and open the salon door once we’re in front of it. The bell above the door jingles, and my hair guy, Peter, grins when he sees me walking in.

“Ford!” he exclaims, moving toward us. He’s dressed in stylish houndstooth trousers and a white button-down shirt. They obviously have a black and white dress code because all the stylists are wearing only those two colors. “How’s my favorite client? How I’ve missed that gorgeous hair of yours.”

“Peter.” I nod my head in greeting. “I could use a trim, actually. You have time?”

He beams, his blue eyes twinkling. “I do. My last haircut was a no-show.” His head swivels in Amber’s direction and he smiles again. “And who’s your guest?”

“This is Amber,” I clear my throat. “My wife.”

I watch Amber’s face as I say the words and my heartbeat speeds up when her face turns bright red. I tell my heart to calm down—she’s probably just embarrassed to claim me as her husband.

Peter dramatically brings a manicured hand to his chest, his nails painted a glossy black. “You got married? All the girls are going to be devastated.” He winks when he adds, “And some of the guys too.”

Now it’s my turn to blush.

Thankfully, Amber moves in front of me, sticking her hand out for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes her hand. “Likewise. My name is Peter by the way. Let’s take this party over to my station, and I’ll start on Ford’s hair. ”

Amber chuckles. “You’re right, by the way. He really does have great hair.”

What? Amber likes my hair? This is news to me. It’s just hair, but I’m here for anything she likes about me. She can run her fingers through my hair all she likes.

“I’m a hair stylist too,” she adds. “I always appreciate great hair.”

Peter’s eyes widen as he pressed down on my shoulders, prompting me to sit in the spinny chair. “Ahh, I should’ve known from the pink tips. Super cute.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I just moved here, and I’m looking for a booth to rent. Is the salon owner here by chance?” Her tone is very professional, but the effect is shattered when Nella releases a loud wail. Amber unbuckles the baby carrier and turns her to face-out so she can see Peter and me. She calms down immediately, like she simply wanted to be a part of the conversation. “Is that better, baby girl?” Amber asks her before turning her focus back to Peter. “Sorry about that.”

Peter takes a fresh, black cape out of a drawer at his station, swivels the chair so I’m facing the floor length mirror in front of us, and drapes the cape around my neck. He combs his fingers through my hair as he surveys Amber and Nella.

“Are you kidding? She’s such a doll. Definitely your little twin.” Amber’s face softens at his complement. “I guess she didn’t get any of daddy’s features, hmm?” He leans over so I can see his face.

My mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish begging to be thrown back into the water. Peter changes the subject quickly, not because he notices my discomfort, but because he always talks really fast. “Our owner is out today, but I’d be happy to leave your name and number for her,” Peter adds, grabbing a water bottle and spritzing my hair .

“That would be perfect!” Amber’s eyes widen, and she looks so excited. I hope it works out for her to rent a booth here. “Would you mind holding her for a second while I grab a pen?” She asks me.

I open my mouth to answer, but Peter beats me to it. “Girl! You don’t have to ask your baby daddy to hold his own kid.”

I offer Amber an apologetic smirk, and she rolls her lips, trying not to laugh. Nella is hoisted into my arms, and she kicks happily in my lap. Peter continues wetting and combing my hair, not starting the cut yet, probably so he doesn’t cover Nella in hair.

Amber finds a pencil and a pink notepad and neatly writes her name and number on it, leaving it on Peter’s station before reaching for Nella again. She fusses when I hand her back to her mother, which makes me smile. Does it make me a mean person that I think it’s cool Nella wants me instead of Amber to hold her?

I don’t know, but it makes me feel a little special.

As soon as Nella is out of the way, Peter gets out the clippers, snaps on a number four guard, and starts the fade on my sides. Peter gives good, no-nonsense haircuts, with zero razzle-dazzle. And that’s why I keep coming back to him. He strikes me as a person who loves the razzle-dazzle but can tell when his clients don’t. He also doesn’t try to give me any steamed towels or shoulder massages like some of the other stylists I tried.

I close my eyes and let him work. He quickly finishes the sides, back and neck, then pulls out his scissors for the hair on top of my head. Noticing the girls are quiet, I open one eyelid and peer at them. Nella is watching Peter’s ministrations, her drool-covered lips open. Amber is watching the chunks of my hair slide down the cape, her pretty mouth turned down.