Page 36 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

“And it’s been left in half the females in a 300-mile radius!”

“I’ve given up other women, Quinn. I only want you. You’re smart. And funny. And you take care of me.” And there it is. I decide to focus on the part that doesn’t hurt.

“You’ve…given up women?” He nods so earnestly, looking like a little boy for a brief moment. “How long has it been, Ford?” He glances to the side, breaking eye contact. My boys do the same thing. Fucker. “Less than 48 hours?” He doesn’t say anything, and I snort. “Less than 36?” He hums an agreement. “Well, fuck, Ford, why didn’t you say that earlier? You’re practically a born-again fucking virgin!”

“Quinn—”

“You don’t love me romantically, Ford.”

He thrusts his chin out defiantly. “I do too.”

“Alright, what’s your favorite part? What are you dying to put your lips on first?”

“Uh…”

“My ass? It’s about three times as wide as any of the women I’ve seen you with. My tits?”

“They’re spectacular—”

“I know they’re fucking spectacular; I grew them my motherfucking self! My nipples are distended from breastfeeding,” he cringes quickly, masking it a moment later, “my areolas are like pepperoni fadeaways, and they sag without a bra. Does that get your juices flowing? Your dick twitching with interest yet? How about that I don’t have a belly button?”

He rears back, “You don’t have a belly button? How is that possible?”

“It was removed.”

“Electively?”

“No, you fucking idiot, I had a lower tummy tuck and they took it.”

“Oh. Well…ok, that’s fine. I can live without you having a belly button.”

“How magnanimous of you,” I deadpan.

He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you don’t love me, Ford, you want a mommy to take care of you. I’m comfortable, like an old pair of sweats. You like me as a friend, but you don’t want to have sex with me.” I step forward, softening my expression, “And regardless of what it means for you, I am in love with Bently Walker.”

“Shut your mouth, you are not.” Such a petulant child. I pity the woman who eventually feels sorry enough for him to claim him.

“He is the most wonderful man I have ever met. Compassionate, delightfully funny, kind but strong. He loves me with everythinghe’s got and still doesn’t believe it’s enough to keep me. He hates belly buttons and loves my saggy tits. He loves my children, even likes my ex-husband. He’s my rock. I don’t need him, but God do I want him. He wants to take care of me, if only so I can continue to mother everyone else around me. He accepts me for me. He respects me. You don’t. You never have. But it doesn’t matter because…Polk and I are like Ohio and soybeans. We just go together. It’s natural. And fruitful. And he’s fucking hot as Hades!”

“Ok, I get it.” He frumps, dropping to his bed and holding his head up with his hands. He looks sad, defeated and I’m sorry to have done that to him, but he needs some tough platonic-love.

“I don’t think you do, but you will. One day Ford, all this will click for you, and you’ll realize you aren’t the best version of yourself. And maybe you’ll do it for you, but I can tell you from experience, when you meet the right person…you want to be better for them. They deserve the best version of you.”

He glances up at me, “You really love him?”

“I do,” I respond quickly with a broad smile. Polk is awesome.

“And he really doesn’t mind the whole belly button thing?”

“Asshole.”

He laughs, sitting up and leaning back on his hand. “Quinn, I’m sorry. Truly sorry for the things I said, the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve any of it. I can’t take any of it back—”

“Just do better, Ford.”

“I’m gonna try.”

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