Page 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

AMBER

Ford and I ate our entire meal without holding Nella. And Ford might not be a chef, but the man can sear a steak, I think to myself as I clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. Ford worked so hard on our meal tonight and I know how he likes things to stay tidy, so it’s the least I can do. He’s upended his whole life for me, and even bought me a vehicle…and there’s nothing I can give to him, nothing I can offer him, besides friendship and loading the stupid dishwasher. I hate how uneven our arrangement feels. But the man seems perfectly content, so maybe it really doesn’t bother him.

I walked Sally and Farrah through Nella’s bedtime routine before leaving them to it, and they’ve been upstairs for an hour now. I hope it’s going okay. It’s been nice to have his mom and sister here, better than I imagined.

But it’s only been one evening, and I haven’t had to share Ford’s bedroom—and bed—with him yet.

Nella took to them just like she did on Thanksgiving. Good thing she’s not a shy infant, even though she barely saw anyone but me for the first three months of her life. Farrah and Grandma Sally happily took turns holding her, sitting with her beside her play mat, and even feeding her a bottle and then making sure she burped several times. I’m relieved she’s taking bottles okay. I love nursing her, but it’s really nice that other people can feed her too so I can have a break once in a while. It’s weird to go from barely having help, to having Ford’s family here. And it’s hard to think about staying overnight night at the hospital. Away from my daughter. I’m dreading being away from her that long.

A chill goes down my spine at the reminder of my impending procedure. I know everything will be okay, but the nerves are creeping in. Inhaling a deep breath, I remember that it’s a simple procedure and hopefully I’ll be back home the next day. No biggie. I turn the hot water off, remove a clean hand towel from the drawer beside the stove, and dry my hands.

“Sweetie, you look exhausted. Why don’t you head to bed?” I jump at the sound of Sally’s voice. I thought she was still upstairs. “Nella went right to sleep. She’s such a good baby.”

I smile at her comment, thankful I got the best girl. “I’ll head to bed as soon as I finish cleaning up,” I say, making excuses. Because the truth is, Ford went upstairs—to our room—to take a shower. And with the way my mind has been going lately, that’s the last place I need to be.

What if he came out in nothing but a towel? And he was all damp, and glistening, and warm…and his layered abdominal muscles were more pronounced with the moisture.

There I go again! I cannot go upstairs yet.

I open the cabinet beneath the sink and remove the all-purpose cleaner, spritzing it all over the modern, cement countertop. I hope this is what I’m supposed to use on the infinity island… maybe there’s a special cleaner for this fancy kitchen.

Ford’s mom takes the spray from my hands and gives me a gentle push toward the steps. “I’ll clean up the rest. That’s what I’m here for.” She winks. “Now go to bed, mother’s orders.”

I laugh, splaying my hands out in front of me. “Okay, okay. Thank you for finishing up.”

“I know my son likes his house spick-and-span.” She rolls her eyes. “You go get some sleep.”

With a wave, I head toward the stairs. I glance back to make sure I’m out of her sight and move up the stairs with the speed of a snail that’s been smoking weed. It’s probably been about twenty minutes. Maybe he’s already out of the shower and dressed? One can hope.

If I was being honest with myself, which I’m not, I’d admit I will be mildly disappointed if he’s already dressed. There’s some tiny piece of my messed-up heart that really, really wants to see him in his towel.

I mean, I could die Tuesday while under anesthesia, and at least I’d go out with that brilliant image in my head.

But I’m not going to die, and I’m not going to be a creep. What if roles were reversed and Ford was trying to see me in a towel? He’s too much of a gentleman to even think about that, but still.

I will respect him as my friend, and not objectify him for being a very hot athlete.

And with that, I’m outside his bedroom door…our bedroom door. I squeeze my eyes shut, and open the door, jumping inside and closing it behind me before I can chicken out.

I hear Ford clear his throat, and my eyes snap open to find him studying me. He’s sitting on his side of the bed, his back resting against the headboard, a book in his hands. He’s wearing flannel pants and a fitted white tee.

Before I can be disappointed that he’s wearing a shirt, I notice his distinguished reading glasses. I think the studious look on him is almost as panty-melting as the shirtless look. I swallow and it feels like I’m trying to choke down a rock.

“Why are you being weird?” he asks, setting his book back on the nightstand and using one hand to slide his glasses down his nose. “Your eyes were closed.”

I manage to find my voice. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be dressed.”

One eyebrow and one side of his mouth quirk in unison. “And finding me undressed is scary enough that you squeezed your eyes shut like you were about to face a dragon?”

I straighten my spine, trying to come across breezy. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a naked man. I’m practically re-virginized.” My eyes widen. “I mean, my eyes…not other things.”

He scoffs. “Did you have something strong to drink while I was showering?” His expression sobers, and his voice grows serious. “Because I read online you shouldn’t drink until you’re cleared by your cardiologist.”

“Stop worrying. I haven’t drunk alcohol in over a year. I’m going to jump in the shower now.”

His mouth quirks to the side, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. “What is it?” I ask.

“You shouldn’t jump in the shower, it’s not safe.”

I burst out laughing, but Ford doesn’t join me. Sometimes I forget that figures of speech aren’t his thing. “I didn’t mean literally. Don’t worry, hubby. I won’t get sloshed or jump in the shower.”

His head tilts to the side, a light blush on his handsome face. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

I sigh. “Don’t be sorry, it feels good to laugh.”

When I get out of the shower, I lotion my entire body and braid my hair back in a French braid. I’ve slept in the same bed as Ford before, even when I came to visit him a few weeks ago. But I feel suddenly shy. Maybe it’s because we’re married…or maybe it’s this whole facade. But I’ve never slept beside a man while wearing a wedding ring. Something about sleeping next to him, in his grown-up bedroom, with his ring on my finger, feels a little more intimate than I’d like to admit. I even chose a black tank and pink pajama pants for tonight instead of my usual nightgown. Ford’s body temperature runs very hot, so I have a feeling I’ll regret the choice here in a few hours.

When I finally open the bathroom door and make to get into bed for the night, I avoid eye contact with my best friend—er, husband—until I’m completely immersed under the covers. A literal security blanket.

I can feel Ford’s stare and then hear his book close, but he stays sitting up in bed, on top of the covers.

“So, what kind of non-fiction book are you reading?” I ask, breaking the silence, but still staring at the ceiling.

“How do you know it’s non-fiction?”

Finally, I turn on my side and look up at him. “I’ve never seen you read a fiction book.”

“I’m not the same person I was in high-school and college, Ambs,” he says pointedly, then rolls his eyes. “But yes, it’s non-fiction. It’s a biography of a World War II vet.”

I snort. “Just a little light reading before bed?”

A soft laugh escapes him, something about the sound puts me at ease, makes me feel like we’re still Ford and Amber…not Mr. and Mrs. Remington.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not the most relaxing read. Maybe that’s why I’m an insomniac.”

Ford slips under the covers and lies on his side so we’re facing each other .

“You still don’t sleep well?”

“Unfortunately, that part of me hasn’t changed since I was a teen.”

I allow myself to study him for a moment, taking in those bottomless eyes that make me feel like I can see straight into his soul. A soul so pure and so selfless and so beautiful, it almost makes my heart ache.

For years, I think the camaraderie we felt toward each other, both being underdogs, made me unable to see him as anything but a friend. But now? I just see a very handsome, very wonderful man. A man who has always taken care of me and made me happy. If only I’d seen it sooner—not that I’d change anything, since all my past decisions led to a little girl I love more than I thought I ever imagined I could.

But wow, what if I could’ve been with Ford for real, all this time? I think he might’ve cherished me…as more than a friend. Or maybe I’m just dreaming. Ford is untarnished, a gentle soul, and I’ve already given away so many pieces of my heart.

“What is going through that mind of yours?” Ford asks, his voice as soft as velvet, but as deep as those eyes of his. A voice I’d like to feel whispering against my mouth, my neck, my…everywhere.

I smile, hoping the emptiness of regret isn’t written across my face. “Just thinking about you and what a good man you are.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Um, thank you.”

Laughing softly, I pull the covers up to my chin, making myself comfortable. His mattress is firm, but also soft, just like the man who sleeps in it. It’s the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever laid my body on. I have a feeling I’ll sleep like a baby in here. “Go to sleep. You have early practice tomorrow. ”

He groans, the sound doing something weird to my stomach. “All right. Goodnight, wife.”

I know he said it in jest, but hearing the word wife come out of his mouth sends chills down my body. I tug the blankets closer again. “Goodnight, husband.”