Page 17 of Aisle Come Back to You

“I must say, I’m impressed,” she compliments, her smile widening. Honestly, though, how could I forget? I remember everything about her and our time together—literally everything.

“Well, if I’m going to ask someone to coffee, you’d best believe I’m going to do it right.”

“Good, because I actually haven’t made it here yet, if you can believe it, and I’ve beendyingfor one of those muffins.”

I feign shock as my mouth hangs open. “Wow! Does this mean you’re no longer a coffee addict?” While in any other town it’s possible she could’ve been getting her coffee from elsewhere, in a small town like Evergreen Grove, this is the only place to go.

“Actually, for Christmas this year I got Miles one of those fancy espresso machines, and while it was still in the box when I gothere, I’ve since set it up for him and have been treating myself,” she explains with an almost embarrassed laugh and a shrug. “That man’s got no sophistication or class. He still drinks from one of those old-school coffee pots.”

“Ford,” the barista calls as we both turn to look his way. “Your drinks and muffins are ready,” he says, pushing the drinks and the bag toward us.

“Thanks, Buddy. You’re the best.” Grabbing the bag and my drink, I motion with my head for her to join me over at one of the small tables by the window.

“Just as perfect as I remember,” she hums after taking a sip as she sits across from me, a huge smile plastered on her face. “What I can’t figure out is how you can drink it plain like that, especially when you can have it taste like pure heaven and bliss,” she adds, holding up her cup, where inside is a tan liquid with swirls of white cream forming intricate patterns.

“Not all of us can handle our caffeine parading as pure sugar.” I chuckle. “Plus, you know me, I’ve always enjoyed my coffee like my soul…”

“Black,” we say in unison as she rolls her eyes. Having heard that joke one too many times, she just shakes her head while bringing her drink to her lips once more.

“Still haven’t stopped with the dad jokes, I see.”

“I remember there being a time when you once laughed and found them funny.”

“Exactly.Once. I mean, come on, how many times have you told that same exact joke?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as if to further make her point.

“Alright, fine. Maybe I need some new material,” I concede, lifting my own cup as I take a drink, the warm, heavenly liquid hitting the spot.

“I have to ask. What do your students think of your cheesy jokes?” she asks, but continues before I can answer, “Let meguess, they eat you alive?” A mischievous grin lights up her features, and while that smile comes entirely at my expense, I can’t fault her for it. I’m hopelessly bewitched and would still do nearly anything to witness it.

“I’ll have you know they love my jokes.”

She raises a skeptical brow. “Really?” she asks, clearly not buying what I’m selling.

“Okay, so maybe they give me some crap about it, but they’re a lot like you. They like to pretend they hate them, while secretly wanting more.”

She laughs, her head tipping back. “There’s a lot to love about you, Ford Hastings, but your cheesy jokes definitely aren’t one of them.”

“As long as you love me, that’s all that matters,” I say with a small chuckle.

It isn’t until she blinks a few times that I realize exactly where this conversation has gone—exactly where it shouldn’t have. This shouldn’t be a strange occurrence, especially considering that when Blair, Ronnie, and I were young, we would frequently express our love for one another.

However, as we grew older, these declarations became increasingly rare. In fact, the last time Blair told me she loved me was the day of my wedding, if my memory serves me correctly, and I have no doubt that it does. I mean, how exactly could one forget? I distinctly recall her declaration as she claimed that this wasn’t just some fleeting, silly, and childish type of love, but that she was head over heels for me in a deep, unwavering, once-in-a-lifetime type of way.

“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat as I do my best to shrug off the palpable tension that’s since surrounded us, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to meet with me today.”

“I mean, maybe a little, but why does it suddenly sound so ominous?” she asks, doing her best to smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re not planning to off me, are you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I laugh. “I just figured we should talk about what we’re doing for Ronnie’s bachelorette party. I know that’s mainly your job as the maid of honor, and that you and Ronnie have always talked about the fun things you wanted to do when the time came, but since I haven’t heard of anything being set in stone yet, I figured once it is, I can relay the message to the other bridesmaids.”

It’s possible that I’m overstepping, but that shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone considering my Type A personality. I’ve always been the one to push both Blair and Ronnie when it was needed. I also feel like it makes the most sense for me to be the one in contact with the other bridesmaids, given that they both work at the school with Ronnie and me.

“Oh, yes, that’s perfect,” she says, setting her drink on the table as she claps her hands and links her fingers together. “I did actually have some ideas, so I’m glad you brought it up.”

As she enthusiastically lists her ideas, I swiftly retrieve a notebook from my laptop bag, ready to document everything. It’s honestly a little bit comforting how easily we seem to slide back into our old roles, almost like slipping into a familiar pair of shoes. I even do my best to keep my mouth shut as she animatedly rattles off some pretty racy ideas, leaving me blushing in my seat.

Nevertheless, I won’t veto anything in Blair’s plan. It’s clear that despite the distance and even with my closer proximity to Ronnie these past ten years, they still have a strong connection and know without a shadow of a doubt what the other would want.

We’re so engrossed in our plans that I pay little attention to the small bell above the door as it rings, signaling a newcomer. Itisn’t until a shadow looms over our table that I realize someone’s joined us.

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