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CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

AMBER

I’m sitting on the large white sectional downstairs with Farrah and Sally while we watch Ford’s game. I’ve got my sketch book and some pencils, needing to do something creative after sitting so much. The Eagles are playing against the San Francisco Lions. Nella is lying on her pink playmat on the floor and batting at the toys that dangle above her face. The teams are tied 2-2 in the second period, and I’m hoping it’s not a repeat of the Anaheim game. I can’t stay up that late again. Especially since we’re Eastern time and these games are at 7pm Pacific time.

I also hated how bummed Ford sounded on the phone today. For someone who won a game the night before, it was obvious he still feels something is off with the team and wants to fix it. I wanted to be there beside him, to wrap my arms around his big body.

A week and a half of fake marriage, and I don’t know how I went months without seeing him in person. All we had was phone conversations from September when pre-season started to November when I came to visit him, and it was fine. But now I miss him so much, I feel wholly unsettled. I wonder if I need another heart procedure, or if this is just what it feels like to miss someone so desperately your chest aches. And we still have three days to go.

Farrah squints at the screen where Ford, West, Mitch, Colby, and a guy I don’t recognize are on the ice. “Did they change the first line?” She asks, turning toward me and her mother.

Both of our eyes snap to the screen, studying the players.

“You’re right,” Sally says. “Rasmussen is usually on the first line, but now it’s Thomas. The new kid.”

I feel my lips move up in a smile. I just know Ford did this, trying to mix things up and see if it helps them get their mojo back. And I adore him for giving the rookie a chance. That’s so Ford.

“I bet they’re mixing it up to get out of the funk they’ve been in,” I say, and the other two women on the sofa nod, agreeing with me.

Farrah leans her head to the side, focusing on the screen again. “It doesn’t appear to be working, but it’ll take more than one game for them to adjust to the change, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, give it some time,” Ford’s mom offers, fully in support of her son’s decision, which makes me smile.

Nella fusses from her mat, and Sally pops up from the couch to get her. She pauses mid-step and turns back to look at me. “Sorry, I don’t mean to keep stepping in! Do you want to put her to bed?”

I chuckle. “You’re fine, I appreciate the help.” I put her down for her nap earlier and got lots of good snuggles, plus I really want to finish watching the game and see what happens. “You’re welcome to put her to bed. She adores you.”

Sally grins then rushes to pick her up.

Once she disappears up the steps with my daughter, Farrah’s phone pings with a text. She looks down at the phone where it sits on the couch next to her thigh and frowns, then turns it over so the screen is facing down.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She glances toward the stairs, then at her phone, and finally at me. “It’s my husband.” She sighs and lowers her voice to a whisper. “We’ve been separated for ten months, and I haven’t told anyone.”

My eyes want to widen, and my mouth wants to gape open, but I school my features into what I hope is a comforting and empathetic expression. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

She slumps back into the couch, letting her head fall back against the cushion. “I’m getting there. It’s just that I thought we’d work things out and everything would be fine, so I never bothered telling my family. But now he’s asking me to sign divorce papers, and I know everyone’s going to react…badly.”

“That sucks, Farrah. I’m sure your family will want to support you and be there for you though. They’ll be there to help, and so will I.”

“Duh, you’re family now.” She gives me a watery smile.

“Why did you guys separate?” I ask, then add, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She sighs, facing me and crossing her legs. “We were trying to have a baby, but after a year, I still wasn’t pregnant. I went to the doctor and found out I have polycystic ovarian syndrome…PCOS. And it can be difficult to conceive because of it. Connor always wanted to be a dad, so he had a really hard time with the news.”

I blink. “ He had a hard time with the news?”

Farrah laughs, but there’s no humor in it. She looks away from me, playing with the end of her long braid. “Yeah, I think his lack of concern for me during the whole process was my first realization he wasn’t the man I thought I married. Then he started blowing up at me for stupid little things, like forgetting to put the laundry in the dryer. He told me one day he didn’t know if he could be with someone who might not be able to give him children.”

One lone tear falls down her cheek, and I reach over and place my hand on top of hers.

Farrah sniffs. “I was crushed, of course. But I held out hope he’d feel differently once he experienced life without me, you know? Well, it turns out he loves life without me. And this whole experience has made me less than loving toward him too.”

I shake my head from side to side. “Farrah, he’s an asshole. Like the worst kind of human.” I fill my cheeks with air, then blow out a deep breath. “I can’t picture Ford getting into a fight, but when he finds out about this, I think he’ll come pretty close.”

She huffs a laugh. “Yeah, which is another reason I haven’t mentioned it.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, thinking about the whole thing. “It’s crazy how many people are out there waving nothing but red flags. Your relationship ended because you couldn’t get pregnant, and mine ended because I did get pregnant.”

She gasps. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Theo, my ex-fiancé, broke off our engagement the day after I told him I was pregnant.”

“Wow. Do men even like women?”

I laugh. “Right? It’s okay, though. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to. And it will for you too. You’re a wonderful person, Farrah. I just know things will look up soon.”

I mean every word, even the part about things turning out for me the way they were supposed to. I know I’m supposed to be acting, pretending I’m really in love with her brother…but I’m not acting. I should be guarding my heart, keeping my emotions in check. But I’m finding it harder and harder to suppress anything when it comes to Ford Remington. My best friend. And maybe more.