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CHAPTER

FORTY-SIX

AMBER

The day after my first WAG night, I’m in the kitchen making lunch. Andie kept talking about her favorite sub sandwich place last night, so I decided to use some of the homemade bread from Farrah’s bake-a-thon to make subs. Ford just walked through the door, finally home from practice. He looks like a dream, with his damp hair, black joggers, and long-sleeved red athletic tee, molding to his body and to show off every dip and valley of muscle on his torso.

My mouth waters, and it has nothing to do with the subs.

Nella is down for a nap, and he throws his gym bag on the floor and rushes into the kitchen. I know he’ll pick his bag up soon and put it away. But for now, he settles behind me and wraps an arm around my waist. His large hand is splayed across my stomach, and I resist the urge to suck in. Ford has made it obvious he’s really into my body. The extra skin on my stomach from pregnancy doesn’t bother him, and neither do the stretch marks or my c-section scar.

The gorgeous man, who sometimes I can’t believe is real, kisses my neck. His kisses are soft and slow and hit every sensitive spot. I drop the butter knife I was using to spread mayo on the bread and lean into his touch.

“Nella will be napping for a while,” I say, my voice breathy and low.

He hums against my neck, holding me a little tighter. “I’ve dreamt of this, you know? Having you in my kitchen, coming home to you.”

Lifting my hand to the back of his head, I twine my fingers into his thick hair, arching to get closer to him.

I open my mouth to tell him to forget the subs and take me upstairs, but the doorbell rings.

Ford groans behind me like a wild animal whose prey just escaped. “Not now,” he says through gritted teeth. “If it’s one of my teammates, I’m going to be so pissed.”

Turning, I pat his chest. He’s all wound up, so I gesture at the sandwiches. “You finish here, and I’ll get the door.”

One side of his mouth tugs up in a smile, and I kiss the side that’s still pouting.

I’m walking to the door—barefoot and happy—ready to sign for a package or whatever it is then get back to my man. But when I open the door, my whole body stills. My mouth is open, but I can’t form words.

Because my daughter’s father—my ex-fiancé—is standing before me, and he looks annoyed.

“Theo?”

“Wow, I can’t believe you still remember my name. Considering you won’t respond to any of my calls or texts.” His words are clipped.

His mother, who I hadn’t noticed was behind him until now, steps forward. “Calm down Theo. Let’s do this properly.”

Theo takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders, then forcing a smile on his face. “I’m sorry. Let me start over.” His smile is creepy, like this whole thing has been rehearsed. “When you told me you were pregnant, I reacted badly. I think we should start over. As a couple, and as a family. I want to do the right thing, Amber. I want us to get married.”

I huff a laugh, feeling half indignant, and half tickled. You know when your brain finds something funny that definitely shouldn’t be funny? This is one of those times. I slap my hand over my mouth, trying desperately not to laugh. I swallow down the laughter bubbling up my throat, forcing myself to be composed.

Theo takes this as a sign to continue. “I know it’s surprising, and you’re in shock. But I’m here, Amber. I’m ready to do the right thing.”

Theo’s mother stands behind him. She nods her head, looking pleased with her son.

I finally find my words. “Theo, I hate to tell you this…but I’m already married.” I hold up my hand, wiggling the finger with the giant diamond on it. “But even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t marry you.”

His face turns an angry red, and I take a step back. “You left me when I needed you the most. You probably didn’t even realize this, but childbirth was hard on my heart, and we found out I had a heart condition. Since you left me—over a year ago—I’ve become a mother, I’ve had heart surgery, and I’ve moved on. You can’t just show up a year later and decide you’re ready to be a husband.”

Theo holds a hand up. “Wait, you’re telling me you married Ford Remington? The best friend you always told me not to worry about?”

“Don’t insinuate I was unfaithful to you, Theo. I didn’t see Ford in that way until you were long gone. And guess who was there to pick up the pieces? Guess who was there to be a real father to my child? And who was there to take care of me after my surgery? Ford was.”

Theo’s mother is slack-jawed, watching the conversation unfold. I honestly don’t know the woman well enough to tell if she’s shocked, or angry, or something else.

Theo laughs, and it’s a sardonic sound, like a true villain. “This is what I get for dating a hairstylist, and not someone more high-class. You ran off with the first man to throw you a bone.” He steps forward, and I step back. “I will get custody of my daughter, just you wait.”

Theo has always had a quick temper, but he would get over things just as quickly. Usually. He never put his hands on me in anger, but his furious expression makes me withdraw. I expect my back to hit the front door any moment, but instead, I feel Ford’s hands grasp my shoulders. I close my eyes and exhale. Feeling so much safer with him behind me.

“If I were you, I’d be careful how you speak to my wife .” Ford’s voice is steady, and colder than ice.

Theo grits his teeth, coming closer to us. Ford holds out one of his giant paw-like hands, and Theo slams into it with his forehead. Ford holds him there easily, cupping his face like it’s a measly little melon. “That’s close enough, I think,” he says, his voice low and authoritative.

Theo’s mother steps forward, her stilettos clacking against the sidewalk with each step.

“I think we need to leave and cool down. Come, Theo.” She orders him like a dog, and he turns and follows with his head down. Her body language is terse and hard, but I’m not sure whether she’s upset with me or her son. Probably me.

I notice the silver Mercedes parked in front of Ford’s house. How did they even get into this gated community? Theo turns back to glare at us before slamming the passenger-side door .

Once the Mercedes has turned a corner and is out of sight, Ford spins me to face him. “Are you okay?”

I nod, but the tears streaming down my face are traitors to my words. Ford cups my face and uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “I don’t want to overstep here, Ambs. What can I do to help?”

Wrapping my arms around him, I hide my face in the safety of his chest. He rubs my back and lets me soak his shirt. The same one I was admiring earlier.

“I don’t know what to do,” I sob. “I never thought he’d put up a fight about Nella.”

Ford effortlessly picks me up, one hand behind my knees, and the other cradling my upper body. I hear the front door close behind us, and I realize this is the first time he’s carried me over the threshold. It feels like such a newlywed thing, and it makes me cling to him a little tighter.

Ford sits on the couch, still holding me. Letting go of him with one arm, I use the back of my hand to dry my tears.

The man holding me looks pained, tortured, like someone ripped out his heart. He glances behind me, avoiding eye contact. And I bring my hand to his jaw, guiding him back to me.

He swallows, his jaw ticking in that way it does when he’s upset. “Ambs, I need you to know that I realize this marriage is fake, that we said two years and done. But my feelings are real, they always have been. Even though it would hurt like crazy…I would step away.” He pauses, trying to compose himself. “If you wanted to be with Theo, if you think that’s what’s best for you and Nella, we could end this now.” His words are a broken whisper.

We could end this now. Those words feel like a fist clutching my newly remodeled heart.

I know he’s trying to help, the way he always does. But what I want is for him to fight for us. I want him to hold on tight, like no one ever has before. I need him to fight for me. I’ve had enough people give up and throw me to the wolves.

So, as caring and patient as I know he’s being, it pisses me off. I’m not sure I’ve ever been angry at Ford. And it feels strange and unsettling, but I want to slam my fists against his chest, knowing he’s strong enough to take it.