Page 41 of Aisle Come Back to You

“I beg to differ. I think if he were smart, he’d end things now before they get too messy.”

“Maybe he doesn’t mind messy. Maybe…” he trails off, his gaze piercing into me, his hand subtly sliding under the table to rest on my thigh, “he’s tired of living up to everyone’s expectations. Maybe he’s finally ready to give in to his feelings and be with the woman who’s always made his life better and more exciting.”

I feel the heat of his touch building on my leg as his thumb brushes slow, lazy circles, but I refuse to divert my gaze; my eyes remaining focused on his. “What if it’s finally her turn to be the smart one, and it’s her turn to protect him from making a big mistake?”

“How does she know it’d be a mistake? What if this is just something that’s always been destined to happen, and it’s time for them both to stop fighting against what’s meant to be?”

I want to believe him. Part of me already does. No matter how hard I’ve tried, and despite the passage of time and physical distance, it’s done little to alleviate my feelings for him. If anything, as I sit here, our bodies yearning to close off any and all distance, it’s clear the feelings have only increased. Even now, sitting in this booth, it feels as though we’re in our own little bubble, oblivious to the bustling Mexican restaurant surrounding us with its loud and lively chatter and mariachi music blasting through the speakers.

The bubble officially pops as a voice interrupts and Ford’s hand immediately flies back into his lap. “Alright, here are the two peach margaritas, and one Dr Pepper,” our server says, setting the drinks on the table.

Fully aware of just how close the two of us are, I scoot over until I’m practically falling off the edge of the bench. “Your food should be out any minute, but in the meantime, is there anything else I can get you?” he asks, his eyes moving between the two of us, clearly unaware of the tension that’d been building between Ford and me.

“No, I think we’re good.” Ford smiles, even if it is incredibly forced.

Needing the drink, I lift my margarita and take a long sip just as Ronnie comes back into view and slides into the booth, completely oblivious to everything that just transpired during her time away.

“So what did I miss?” she asks, reaching for her drink.

“Not much,” Ford thankfully replies, and while his voice sounds steady, I can sense he too is a little off-kilter.

However, I can’t let that be a problem, especially as Ronnie animatedly discusses her wedding plans and how she just got the good news that the necklace she’d ordered and had been waiting on had just arrived at her parents’.

While I may be internally conflicted about my feelings for the man sitting next to me, I remind myself that this week is not about that. It’s about Ronnie, and even though a big part of me wants to open up to her and ask for her opinion, I can’t do that. She deserves so much more than a self-centered maid of honor. I can give her at least one full day of my attention focused on nothing but her.

With that, I do my best to shut out all thoughts of Ford and instead gush with Ronnie about how perfect her wedding isgoing to be—even if I secretly, or not so secretly, may also be a little worried about that too.

21

Ford

Idon’t think I’veever sat through a dinner that dragged on quite like that one. Normally, I don’t mind sitting there with my Dr Pepper, but the longer I sat, the more I found myself wishing that I’d gotten one of those margaritas. At least maybe I’d have something to take the edge off with.

Unlike me, Blair effortlessly flipped the switch, seemingly forgetting our earlier conversation. Even more confusing, was that while I know Blair still has some reservations about Ronnie’s wedding, her attitude drastically changed as she suddenly seemed to be fully on board with the upcoming nuptials.

Then again, for all I know, I’m overthinking things, like usual, and she really is excited for Ronnie. Our friend made it pretty clear yesterday that she was happy and ready to get married to Pete and wasn’t in the mood to hear us talking negatively about him. I have to assume that’s precisely what that was all about,but as I pull up in front of Ronnie’s apartment, I’m relieved that at least for now, all this possible pretending can stop.

“See you both tomorrow.” Ronnie waves as she hops out of the backseat of my car.

“See you later,” I holler, leaning forward to see her over Blair in the passenger seat.

“Love you, bestie.” Blair waves as we watch Ronnie retreat toward her front door.

“Hey, Ford,” Blair says, cutting through the silence as she looks my way once we’ve made sure our friend made it safely inside.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we could hang out for a little bit before you drop me back off at my brother’s?” she asks, looking up at me from beneath her lashes.

Despite her striking blue eyes—which she’s learned to effortlessly enhance with makeup, it’s her luscious red lips that I find myself irresistibly drawn to at this moment, especially as she lightly chews on the bottom left corner. She has to know what she’s doing to me, because she’s driving me absolutely feral right now.

I cough out a small lump in my throat and nod. “Uh, yeah. Of course,” I agree, struggling to keep my voice steady and composed. I might have outgrown my teenage years and uncontrollable hormones, but she somehow has the power to make me feel exactly like I did all those years ago. “Is there anywhere you want to go or…” I trail off, waiting for her answer.

“Your place?” she innocently asks.

Calm down, Ford.Now is not the time to let my mind go to those dirty and illicit places, yet, it’s the only place it seems to want to go.

“Yeah, of course. Sure thing.” I nod, my heart racing beneath my facade of calmness.

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