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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JULIET

I wonder if I wish hard enough if a hole will open up at my feet and swallow me before Ford can ask any questions.

Peeking through my eyelashes, I look between us, but all I find is the same hardwood floor as always.

Damn it.

The date was an absolute disaster. I don’t know how I thought I could possibly be ready for that. Sure, creating a dating profile and matching online was fun. Even chatting through the app wasn’t terrible. But actually showing up. Having to talk to someone. Realizing they are nothing like the profile they created. Who the heck wants to do that every day of the week?

Not me.

I shake my head against Ford’s chest.

“Hey. You’re okay.” His hold on me tightens as his deep voice washes over me like warm honey, sticking in all the places I definitely don’t want it to.

And yet I can’t deny I’m glad it was him who opened the door and not Paige.

I inhale a deep breath, taking in the smell of him—citrus shampoo and an earthy undertone I still can’t place but is uniquely him. It shouldn’t be comforting, and maybe it’s only because I’ve been living in his apartment for the last week, but it reminds me I’m okay. Safe.

Ford’s grip loosens and even though I tighten my own around his waist to stay silent just a moment longer, he still pulls back. He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts, encouraging me to look up at him. Against my better judgement I allow it and meet his piercing blue eyes that are the same color as the sky on a clear day.

“Want to talk about it?”

“If I say no, will you leave it?”

“Yes.”

“I—” That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “Really? You don’t want to comment about how stupid it was to go out with someone I met on a dating app and then let him convince me to walk meup to the door of the apartment instead of just saying goodbye in the lobby?”

“Is that what you want me to do? Because I can absolutely carry you over to that couch, put you over my knee, and punish you for going on a date without telling me, especially with a man as douchey as that one.”

I suck in a gasp, fear gripping my spine.

“But I can see that’s not what you need. You already are doing a good enough job punishing yourself for that date. So what I’m offering is a safe place to talk about it. But also you need to know that if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too. I’m here for whatever you need.”

The floor drops out from under me, and I’m almost positive my eyes are bugging out of my skull like in one of those old cartoons.

Ford chuckles, but it almost sounds sad. “Come on, Juliet, let’s get you something to drink and then we can sit.”

He steps away, taking his warmth with him as he moves around the kitchen taking care of me.

Once we’re sitting on the couch, me in my favorite spot in the corner, him safely two cushions away, I sip my drink and admit the recurring thought I can’t shake loose. “I’m not sure I’m made for dating.”

Ford lets out something that resembles a snort mixed with a laugh. “Not everyone is. Though I promise you, they won’t all be pretentious assholes.”

“But he’s not the only one.” It comes out more a complaint than a statement, and I feel the need to justify my answer. “All week I’ve been fielding conversations with men who only want to get between my legs. They don’t care to know my dreams, or what I like on my pizza.”

“Ah-ha” He points a finger like he’s caught me in a lie. “Trick question, you can’t eat pizza and you hate the gluten free crusts.”

“See?” I throw my hands up like it’s a lost cause. “You’ve at least asked, and we’re just friends.”

“Unfortunately, if you’re serious about dating, you’re going to have to play the field a bit and deal with more than a few bad dates.”

I’m going to kill Paige for conveniently leaving out that part in our conversation.

“Maybe I’m not as serious as I thought I was,” I muse, the sentiment slicing my already war-battered heart. “Or maybe I’m just bad at it. Things were different with Tyler. We were young and hopeless, but it was so easy. Now looking back, there were so many red flags that I didn’t see until it was too late. What if I miss the signs again? What if I don’t know where to look? Is it possible to be terrible at dating and still find someone to love?”

“Fuck,” Ford breathes, like the curse is part of his being. “You’re killing me, Juliet.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean to drop this all on you. I just—you told me whatever I needed and?—”

“Hey.” He stops me, scooting closer, but not close enough that he’s touching me. He even looks down to make sure he’s not encroaching on my space. “That’s not what I meant.I love that you’re sharing this with me. I love any moment you decide to trust me. You’re killing me because I want what’s best for you. And I hate hearing you put yourself down like that. Because first of all, I guarantee you when it came to Tyler it wasn’t you that was the problem. But also, because when you hurt, I hurt Juliet.”

His eyes are sincere, not a hint of irritation or anger in them.

Geeze.

Every girl deserves a Ford McCoy in their life.

Tears well in my eyes, making my voice crack. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Ford sinks back into the couch, but stays close. “I just had an idea to help you, and it’s either genius or will ruin everything.”

“For me or for you?” My curiosity piques, because at this point what do I have to lose?

“Both, unfortunately.”

I lean forward and rest my elbows on my propped up knees and my chin in my hands. “Go on.”

“What if I teach you?”

“Teach me what? How to date?” I manage to keep my voice even despite the way my stomach flips, a buzzing feeling taking root. It feels eerily like butterflies, which have no business taking flight.

“I mean I can’t say I’m a pro, considering I’m very much single and alone, but that’s by choice, not because I haven’t dated around.” My thoughts drift to his alias Eugene as he works his hand across the back of his neck. “Fuck, this is coming out wrong. I told you it was a bad idea.”

“I’m pretty sure you said it was genius.”

“Or that it would ruin everything.” Hurt flashes in his eyes but they remain locked on me. “I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

“Neither do I.” The words tumble out faster than my mind can register, stopping time between us.

It’s obvious from Ford’s expression that he didn’t expect me to agree. But how could I not? Over the last month helping him organize the apartment we’ve formed a sort of kinship—an understanding.

Maybe what he’s suggesting isn’t a terrible idea. Sure there are still things about him that annoy the daylights out of me, but through his persistence and overly pushy optimism, with maybe a hint of trauma bonding, I’ve found a level of trust with him I haven’t found anywhere else.

It’s not like it would be real. We aren’t actually dating. He’s just teaching me. Helping me to spot the red flags.

I can almost hear Paige’s sarcastic snort in the back of my mind, followed by whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, friend. You saw him shirtless with that puppy right?

“So you want me to practice on you, in order to be better at dating other people?”

Fords eyes widen. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds bad.”

Sitting forward, I link my hands together as if this were a real-life business proposition and not a half-baked conversation on his couch. “It’s not a terrible idea.”

“It’s not?”

“What would this look like?”

Ford’s jaw tenses, and I can’t tell if he’s happy I’m asking or regrets mentioning it at all. We sit in silence for thirty long seconds before he finally swallows hard and nods. “Three dates.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I figure you’d like to get back to finding the love of your life.”

“Pshh.” I chuckle to hide just how uneasy that sentiment makes me. “I’m not sure I’m looking for the love of my life, but go on.”

“We’d have to come up with some ground rules, and I’d need to know exactly what it is you want to learn so I can make the most of our time.”

This feels like a fever dream. Like we’ve changed roles—Ford becoming the logical planner, and me the unhinged chaos ready to jump in with both feet.

Still I consider his question carefully before answering. “Everything.”

Ford’s cheeks tinge pink. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him flustered, but it’s a cute look on him.

He dips his head. “I’m going to need you to be a little more specific, because everything covers a lot of bases.”

I raise a brow in confusion. But then it sets in.

Everything.

He means sex.

“Oh—Oh no, I didn’t mean. Not that—no, I’m not asking you to—I know how to do that.” I swallow hard. This would be embarrassing with anyone other than Ford, but given everything we’ve been through, I don’t feel weird talking with him about this. “I want to be more comfortable in my own skin. I want to be confident. I want to know what to look for and how to spot the red flags.”

I never want to be where I was before.

That particular thought I keep to myself. Based on the lingering looks and scrutinizing glances the past few weeks, there’s no doubt Ford suspects many of the darker moments that transpired between me and Tyler. Even if I haven’t confirmed any of them. And while I want to believe Ford wouldn’t treat me differently because of them, I’m not ready to bet on that.

“I hate to break it to you Juliet, some of those lessons come with time and experience. But I can do my best to help lay the groundwork.”

“So then it’s just coming up with the ground rules.”

He nods, encouraging me to go on.

“Three dates.”

Ford straightens and brings his fist over his heart. Then with all the stoic knight-going-to-save-the-princess-vibes imaginable, he declares,“I vow to plan each of them meticulously to cover the finer points of dating in the quest to help you achieve all the love you deserve.”

I shake my head. “You’re such a nerd.”

“You learn to love it,” he says with a shrug of indifference.

He’s right. It’s one of the things I appreciate about Ford. Unlike when he was young and a cocky know it all, now he’s just unapologetically himself. It’s something I can only one day hope to be.

“If I may add my own rule?” he asks, and I nod for him to go on. “I’d like constant honesty between us. I can’t help if you hide your feelings from me.”

“Well, this is awkward, because I’m not sure if you know this”—I lean over and whisper behind my hand—“but I’m not great with letting people in.”

Ford’s laugh drifts over me and pools deep in my belly. “Oh, I’m aware. But it’s a hard rule for me.”

Scraping my teeth over my lip, I pretend to debate if I can abide even though I already know my answer. “Fine. Total honesty.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Ford asks. When I shake my head, he nods and continues. “Okay, then I have two more.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the first one is more of a clarification than a rule.”He presses his full lips together and his jaw ticks, though I’m not sure if it’s out of frustration or annoyance. “You said everything, but I want to clarify that touching is still on the table.”

His eyes fall to my cheeks, which are no doubt as red as the lips on my Rolling Stone shirt.

“Touching?” My anxiety spikes, and I twist my hands in my lap. No one has touched me since Tyler. I’m not even sure I still like being touched.

“Jesus, Juliet.” Ford reaches out to take my hands in his but halts his movement before his skin contacts mine. “May I?”

My gaze darts between our hands andrelief floods his eyes when I nod, giving him silent permission.

“I don’t mean any sort of intimate touching.” His fingers slip between mine, and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “And, to be clear, I won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. You set the pace and the boundaries. This is about you and what you need.”

Air rushes from my lungs in a sigh that is two parts relief and one part appreciation for the man who somehow sees the parts of me I don’t want to be seen.

“I can’t exactly bolster your confidence if I’m not allowed to hold your hand, or guide you on a dance floor.” He tugs gently, coaxing me to sit beside him. Every part of me is touching him—knee to knee, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I whisper, but really it’s more than. It’s everything. It’s okay, great, empowering. It’s me sitting next to a man and not feeling an ounce of the fear of where I should put my hand. Ford already is holding it. I don’t need to worry that I’m being too clingy, because he put me there. He wants me there.

The whiplash I’m giving myself might snap my neck if I’m not careful. Because while I am beautiful in my empowerment, I am broken in my heart, and I’m still trying to reconcile how both can be true. But I want to. I need to.

With his free hand, Ford brushes my hair from the shell of my ear and leans in, his lips dancing over my flesh as he whispers. “I want to be able to lean in and whisper what a good girl you are for granting me the absolute pleasure of being your date for the night.”

I suck in a breath, my heart racing a full formula one circuit in my chest. “And is that absolutely necessary?”

“Absolutely.” He pulls back only just enough for me to feel his eyes on mine and his breath on my cheek. “I promise to always ask if something is too much and always stop when you say to. But I’d like to set a high enough standard that you’llknow a red flag when you see one.” His thumb and forefinger grip my chin, and he turns my face so we’re inches from each other. “I need you to hear me when I tell you that you deserve to be the center of someone’s universe, Juliet. And I’m going to make sure you never settle for less.”

My mouth falls open, and I search his eyes for any hint of a lie. But I find none.

Who is this man to make these kinds of promises?

He’s the one who found you when no one else would. The man who paid your debts without question. He’s the one who held you in a cemetery and picked up the pieces when you fell apart after a failed date. He’s your friend. Your ally. And now he’s the guy you’re going to date for exactly three dates.

Ford’s mouth parts, pulling my attention to his full lips. And maybe it’s because we just were talking about touching, or maybe it’s the fact he’s so damn committed to helping me,but for a split second I consider saying screw it and finding out if kissing Ford McCoy would be as soul shattering as I imagine.

Shit.

Is that what I want?

Thank god I don’t have time to examine my fleeting moment of delirium before Ford pulls away. “Was that too much?”

“No.” The single syllable word comes out breathier than if I had uttered it after runninga full marathon.

“Good.” Ford smiles and hell if its boy scout innocence doesn’t wreak havoc on my heart. “Then I’ve only got one more rule I’d like to add.”

“What’s that?” I’m pretty sure nothing he could say would surprise me more than the last condition.

“No matter what happens, nothing changes between us. I’ve really enjoyed spending time getting toknow you and organizing the apartment together. You are an important part of my life, and I don’t want this to end in me losing you.”

And once again he’s proven me wrong, delivering the bucket of ice water I needed to calm whatever the hell it was that just took over my body and made my heart go pitter patter. Because at the end of the day, Ford’s right. This isn’t about us—there is no us —it’s about helping me figure out how to move on.

“I think I can agree to that.”

“Good.” He drops my hand and pushes himself up from the couch. “Then why don’t we get changed into something nice?”

“Wait, you want to start tonight?” I blink, waiting for him to tell me he’s joking.

But he doesn’t. He turns and heads for his room. Before he clears the doorway, he tugs his shirt off, giving me an unrestricted view of the dips and creases of his perfectly toned back.

Baseball players really are God’s gift to women.

Ford looks over his shoulder and winks. “No time like the present. Now hop to it, love.”

That’s the second time he’s called me love.

It’s also the second time it’s made my heart skip.