Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

JULIET

I still don’t know how he managed to get a reservation, but it’s absolutely everything I dreamed it would be.

The hanging vines from the ceiling make the room feel like it’s tucked beneath a willow tree. Paired with the twinkling lights that look like fireflies and the tables covered in green linens to give the impression of a lily pad on top of the blue carpeted floor, this room looks less Michelin star restaurant and more like something straight out of a fairy tale. The kind where the animals come to life and talk to a princess.

And the best part is that it’s not just a restaurant. It’s an experience. Off the restaurant there’s a very Alice in Wonderland-esque hidden passageway, leading to a bar even more exclusive than the restaurant. It’s immersive and otherworldly. Or at least that’s what all the reviews have said.

Ford must have pulled every string he has to get us a table. Of course, every time I ask how he tells me in due time it will make sense.

I let him have his secrets. Dining at Midnight & Luster has been a dream of mine since I found out Tyler was being traded to New York. There’s over a year wait, and even if I had managed to get us a reservation, Tyler would’ve complained the entire time that the portions at restaurants like this are never big enough for the cost.

But he had no problem spending money on bets. Something less tangible than the food on my plate.

No.

I push the thought from my mind. The last thing I want to think about is Tyler.

Tonight is about me.

Ford says I need to learn to trust myself and find the courage to ask for the things I want. Whether that’s asking for someone to kiss me or telling them to fuck off—his words. Either way it’s my decision to make, and I hold the power.

It’s a sentiment I haven’t fully grasped. The thing is, I’m not sure I can handle the spontaneity of it. When it comes to matters outside the heart, I’m able to make snap decisions. But when it comes to love, I’m no longer able to trust my choices.

I mean I’m essentially having my dead husband’s stepbrother teach me to date. The more I think about it, the crazier it sounds. But also, it somehow feels like the right choice.

I trust Ford. And he’s made it easy. Beyond that little pep talk on the way to the restaurant, he’s been the perfect gentleman and allowed me to set the pace.

Red or white wine with dinner—always red. Even if white would be ideal for the meal outlined on the menu.

Do I want to sit under the tree or with a view of the city—obviously under the tree.

Would you like to sit next to me in the booth, or across from me—this one I had to consciously make the choice to be brave. If it was a real date, with someone I loved, I’d want to be next to him so we could hold hands.

Not that Ford has made any kind of move to do so.

What surprises me, though, is I want him to.

Maybe there is some happy medium where I get to make some choices, but others are left to his discretion.

To help me learn of course.

I glance over at where he’s sitting beside me, working his way through the seafood course. His navy suit is tailored perfectly to fit him given the way it dips and moves intimately with his body. Paired with hair that’s sculpted in a sexy sort of tousle and an unfettered smile, and I really have to wonder why he’s out with me and doesn’t have a girlfriend of his own.

He catches me staring out of the corner of his eye and cocks a brow. “Is the fish okay?

“The scallop you mean?” I laugh, correcting him

“Scallops are a fish.” His lips lift in a smirk letting me know he’s messing with me.

I roll with it. “And you call yourself a Californian?”

“I haven’t lived in California for years.” He takes another bite and lets out a soft moan of delight that is music to my ears. It’s the sound every chef gets off on.

I’ve heard him make that sound more than once as a result of my cooking after a long reorganizing session. But this time it’s different. This time my eyes zero in on the way his mouth wraps around the fork. The way his eyes close, and he sinks into his chair as he savors the taste on his tongue.

The moment shouldn’t be erotic, but damn if my cheeks aren’t flush and my heart isn’t thundering in my chest.

I need to say something.

Anything to stop myself from following this path that leads to me wondering what else could cause Ford to make that sound.

“Do you miss it?” The words rush out high pitched and breathy.

Come on, get it together Julietta.

“What?”

“California. Do you miss living there?”

He sets his fork down and chews his lower lip. Something I’ve noticed he does when he’s thinking. “I’ve never really thought about it. I’d maybe consider moving back for the weather and the ocean. There’s something about being near the water that calls to me. And while the East River is beautiful at sunset, it just isn’t the same. But honestly, I don’t see myself being ready to leave the Renegades anytime soon.”

“Really?” That surprises me. “Even though you only have a year contract.”

“Ah-ha.” He points a finger at me and gives me a wide toothy grin. “So you were listening even though you told me baseball information bores you.”

I stifle a laugh. “Baseball does bore me. But that’s a part of your life. Your future. That’s not boring.”

“Hmmm,” he muses, bobbing his head from side to side. “So as long as it has to do with me you’ll listen to any and all of my baseball stories?”

“Within reason. Start spouting anything about averages and stats and I’m out.”

“Noted.”

Every time he says that I imagine him pushing a pin into a corkboard like he’s actually making a note to come back to it later.

At that moment the server slides up to the table and asks if she can take our plates. We both nod and Ford leans back in the booth to make room, his button up shirt pulling taught under his suit in a way that is more than a little distracting. But it would be to anyone. Right? Even the waiter, an older woman most likely in her forties, allows her eyes to drift over him as she replaces our dishes with a sorbet dessert that no doubt is divine.

“But to answer your question,” he continues. “Just like there’s something about the ocean, there’s something about this team that has me wanting to stick around and see what we can do together.”

“I don’t remember you being this optimistic. Cocky, yes, but not forever hopeful.”

“That’s because back then I only believed in hard work.” A knowing smile stretches across his lips, and he gets a goofy glint in his eye. “But also, I’d like to point out, you didn’t really get to know me back then.”

I wince, not expecting to be called out like that. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised when it comes to Ford. He calls it how he sees it, even when it’s uncomfortable.

And he’s right. I really didn’t know him at all. Aside from the few interactions we had in chemistry class and in passing at baseball games, we didn’t really have any reason to talk. Tyler hated him and so by default I didn’t really talk to him. That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice him. Every girl in school noticed him. He was the quintessential California boy next door. The whole package—hot jock, complete with the tan and surfboard in the back of his jeep.

“But you knew me. Didn’t you?” My breath catches as I stare into his disarming eyes, and a pang of guilt rattles through me. “You remembered the crystals.”

“Fuck.” The curse comes out as an exasperated chuckle. It’s self-conscious. Something I rarely hear from the unflappable baseball player. He scrubs his hand across the back of his neck and gives me a sideways glance. “Yeah, Paige mentioned you ran into Jo and she let you in on that tiny little habit.”

“Did you really collect them for me?” It’s something I’ve wondered ever since that day but was never brave enough to ask.

“It wasn’t so much for you as it was something to keep me going.” His eyes slide to the bowl in front of him where he’s taken up pushing around the bright green sorbet with his spoon. “There was a long time where I didn’t know if I was going to find you. My mind came up with the worst scenarios and I thought…”

His throat bobs. Once. Then twice.

I reach out, placing my hand on his, and immediately he threads his fingers through mine. “You thought I was dead?”

He lifts his shoulders in the saddest shrug. “I didn’t know what to think. You just disappeared. And I didn’t really have anyone. I didn’t know the guys on the team well yet. My mom was gone. Mercer had been banned from baseball and I just—I needed something to hold onto. Those crystals were the only tangible thingI could remember about you that wasn’t the color of your eyes or the way you used to braid your hair every day because you hated when it fell in your face.”

I’m not sure if I want to smile or cry. So of course, I do both.

“That’s…” I tighten my hand around his, silent tears streaming down my face. “Incredibly sweet.”

Ford lets out a sound that is half laugh, half sigh. “I’m glad you think so, because I was worried you’d think it was creepy.”

“Well now that you mention it,” I tease, using it as a cover to try and wipe away my tears with my free hand.

“Shit, Juliet.” Ford drops my hand and brings his to my face. Cupping my chin, he thumbs away the stray tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“See?” I sniff through my halfhearted smile. “I told you I’m bad at this dating thing. Crying on a first date must be going against every lesson.”

“No.” His thumb traces across my cheek in a reassuring circle, grazing the small beauty mark below my eye. “Any guy who faults you for feeling deeply isn’t worth your time.”

“Tyler would have,” I whisper. “We would have already been out of the restaurant and into a cab. He would have told me I was an embarrassment, and he shouldn’t have bothered taking me out.”

Cautiously, I look up at Ford. Anger flashes in his eyes and he clenches his jaw so tight I’m worried he might break a tooth. Yet, despite all that rage, his hand on my face is butterfly soft.

“I’m sorry.” I try to diffuse the situation. “I’m pretty sure I just broke the cardinal rule of dating: don’t bring up your ex.”

“Juliet.”

But of course, I can’t stop there. Once the apology train has taken off, I have to see it through. “I really shouldn’t have said anything. It slipped out. I promise I won’t bring him up again, and we can just go back to having a really good night.”

“Juliet.” His hand tightens on my cheek just enough to let me know he’s there.

I snap my eyes shut and lean into his touch. “I’m sorry.” The words come out as unsteady as I feel.

“Hey. Look at me.” His tone isn’t commanding. It’s almost desperate. And when I open my eyes, I find nothing but understanding in his deep brown gaze. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I—” My body sags, releasing all the coiled tension inside. “I don’t?”

“No, love. You never have to apologize for being honest with me.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, fingering the ends where they fall just above my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I all but demanded that honesty from you when we agreed to these dates.”

“So you’re not mad?” I hate the uneasiness that’s been trained into me for so many years.But I love that Ford is taking the time to rewrite those notions.

“At my asshole brother? I’m fucking furious.” His hand drops, finding mine in my lap and once again intertwining our fingers. “But not at you. Never at you.”

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, without an ounce of pity and like I am something to be cherished, but I believe every word.

I really don’t deserve this man in my life.

But I want him there.

It’s a quiet, almost whisper, of a truth. One I’m not ready to actually admit—even to myself. Because while I have no doubt Ford will always be in my life, I’m beginning to think maybe his idea of in my life and the story my heart wants to tell aren’t the same thing.

He doesn’t want anything to change. Those were his words.

Which means this isn’t real, and at the end of these three dates, he’ll walk away. So while that whisper of a truth is there, I can’t let myself fully entertain it.

Ford looks past me, excitement sparking in his eyes.I’m about to turn around when his hand slides to my bicep and he stops me. “This is terrible fucking timing, but if you can trust me, I’d like for you to meet someone.”

“Right now?” I squeak. “I’m an absolute mess.”

He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Juliet.”

Those pesky butterflies are back in my belly, and I fully expect my cheeks are red with how warm they feel. But I don’t get more than a second to process any of that because a tall blonde woman dressed in a perfectly tailored plum power suit slides up to the edge of our table.

“You made it!” she exclaims, clapping her hands in front of her.

Ford slips from the booth and wraps his arm around her as he presses his lips to her cheek.The lips that just two seconds ago graced mine in the same spot.

Green glazes over my vision, but I blink it away, having no right to it.

“Thanks for holding the table, Soph. I really appreciate it.”

It’s at that moment I realize three things.

One.

Ford’s friend is Sophia Charles.

The Sophia Charles. World renowned chef and owner of this establishment.

Two.

I don’t like the way she’s looking at him. Like he’s something to behold. Something special. Something hers.

And three.

She is everything I wish I could be. Her confidence and the way she holds herself like she knows she’s the most powerful woman in the room. I want to be her when I grow up.

Ford smiles and slides into the booth beside me. Sophia follows in after him. “I hope you lovebirds are enjoying your meal.”

Wait, what?

My gaze darts to Ford and back to Sophia. “Oh, we’re not?—”

“Real smooth Soph.”

She shrugs and offers him a knowing smile. “You love me.”

“I do.”

He does?

Wait, do they have a history together? How do they even know each other? I know she has a restaurant in Chicago, and Ford played there. I don’t remember seeing her name attached to his in the headlines. And believe me, I’d remember if he was dating Sophia Charles. She’s practically royalty in the culinary world.

Ford lifts a hand and extends it toward me. “Sophie, I’d like you to officially meet Etta Cruz.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I’m Sophia.” She offers me her hand across the table. “I’ve heard amazing things.”

I shake it, a little taken back. “You have?”

“Absolutely.” She nods like it’s not a big deal. “When Ford told me he wanted to bring in his friend, the chef, I had to do my research.”

“Oh, but I’m not?—”

“Nope.” She lifts her hands, stopping me in my tracks. “I’ll hear none of that. You were top in your class and on the track to becoming the youngest female sous chef under Henry Larant. And while he’s a prick, he’s one of the best so I know you know your stuff.”

Damn it. And she’s sweet. And thoughtful. And thinks I’m amazing. There’s no way I can compare to this woman.

“You looked me up?” I say at the same time Ford turns to me and asks, “How did I not know any of that?”

“It was nothing,” I assure both of them.

My career as a chef went about as far as my career as a housewife. That’s to say it didn’t. Ford knows this, I just wasn’t forthcoming with all the details. They don’t matter. That was my past. Even if I do miss the hustle and bustle of a kitchen.

“It was not nothing, but I can see I’m embarrassing you so I’ll leave it for now.” Sophia leans forward and rests her forearms on the table, lacing her fingers together. “But please tell me, how are you enjoying the food?”

This I can handle.

“It’s fantastic,” I gush. “The way you’ve paired the flavors and made the entire meal accessible for dietary restrictions is incredible.”

“Ford mentioned you’re gluten free.” She glances at him, but his eyes are on me.

They’re always on me. It’s both unnerving and sweet.

“I can tolerate many things, gluten is not one of them.”

“Neither can my partner.”

Partner? She’s married? I glance down at her finger and sure enough on her left hand, fourth finger, there’s a diamond clad band.

Well, I definitely read that interaction wrong. And with this new development, maybe I can see how she looks at Ford the same way he looks at me. Like someone she cherishes. And rightly so.

Ford might be my Hulk, but really he’s Captain America.

“She’s got celiacs disease, and so dietary inclusion has become a passion project of mine.”

My eyes go wide, and I’m unsure how long I sit with my mouth gaping like a fish. This woman is speaking a language I understand. One that is close to my heart and makes me want to get teary eyed and weepy.

“I would love to chat with you about it, if you’re open to it.”

“I—I’d love that,” I stammer, ignoring the way Ford laughs quietly beside me.

“Would you like to see the kitchen after you finish dessert?”

“I’m done.” I pick up the napkin from my lap and place it beside the sorbet I barely touched.

This gets a laugh out of both Sophia and Ford.

“Well then let’s show you around.”

I’m already out of the booth when I glance back and see Ford is still sitting.

My brows furrow. “You’re not coming?”

“I’m good. I’ve seen the stainless steel jungle.” I’m about to protest when he reassures me. “This is your moment. Enjoy it. Then come find me in the bar when you’re done, and we’ll have a nightcap before we go.”

I’m about to tell him a night cap is generally done long after dinner and right before bed, but I bite my tongue and thank him instead.

“You’re welcome, Juliet.” Is what he says before I turn and leave, but the hint of heat in his stare makes me wonder if I’m not the only one a little twisted on this thing between us.