Page 99 of Always a Bridesmaid
The dogs thought he meant them, and all four made a mad dash for the door. Ford went ahead and opened it, letting them out and waiting for Dad to hop to.
Dad lumbered on over, but instead of heading outside, he paused at the threshold. “You’re not gettin’ serious with that girl, are ya?”
Ford hesitated a beat too long.
“Not a good idea, son. For one, that family ain’t never gonna accept you.”
The urge to correct the double negative flickered—not like it’d make any difference. When it came to tirades against relationships, Dad could go on all day. “Violet’s not even close to her family, save Maisy. And I’m a big believer that a person is more than who they’re related to.”
Dad guffawed. “Just because you run around playing hero doesn’t mean people forget who you are. You think you’re so much better than me and your brothers, but you can’t even learn from our mistakes.”
Years of history choked the air. Sure, he wished his family the best. That didn’t mean he was going to get sucked into the toxic dick-measuring environment he’d grown up in. Who was stronger? Faster?
Sometimes it seemed like they competed for whose life was the best, and other times whose was worst.
Finally, Dad stepped onto the porch, and Ford resisted the urge to shove him on down the sidewalk so this would be over already.
“I couldn’t help but notice she gave you a honey-do list,” Dad said. “That’s what women call ’em, but really they’re marchin’ orders. Today she’s ordering you around, demanding fancy wines while implying you’re a dumb redneck who won’t remember the right brand. Next thing you know, it’ll be new furniture and remodeling the kitchen…
“Your ma was that way. When we got hitched, she claimed all she needed was love. Less than a year in and it was ‘when are we gonna get a bigger, nicer house?’ and ‘I need to go into the city and buy new clothes’ and on and on until we were broker than we started out. And still nothin’ made her happy.”
Ford’s sigh failed to carry away his frustration over this line of conversation. That type of fights made up the majority of his memories from when he was younger. His parents arguing about who worked the hardest, each attempting to win, when, truth be told, everyone involved lost.
Including him and his brothers, who bore the brunt of the anger from whomever hadn’t stormed out first.
“Violet’s not like that,” Ford said. “You don’t even know her.”
“All women are like that. In the beginning they put their best foot forward, all sugar and spice, showcasing their best behavior. Basically they’re a shiny lure, and once you commit and take a big ol’ bite, you discover the hook hidden in the bling.
“That’s when they flip that crazy switch and it’s nag, nag, nag. Pick a fight over any and everything. Tell you that you need to change. It’s taken me two failed marriages”—Dad held up his fingers as if otherwise Ford would be lost—“and one broken engagement to learn that.”
Luckily, they’d reached the four-wheeler ramp. Ford maneuvered it onto the open tailgate of Dad’s truck. He fired up the four-wheeler, lined up the tires, and rode into the bed.
From there, Ford shoved the ramps on either side so Dad could get the vehicle in and out himself. “There you go. Just drop it off whenever you’re done.”
Dad placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder, and when Dad’s eyes met his, at least they were more white than bloodshot today. Which inconveniently fractured the assertion his old man’s words were nothing but hot air. “I’m all for enjoying that beginning, fun part of relationships—hell, I’m addicted to the rush myself. But as soon as she mentions weddings and babies, it’s time to cut and run. Serious relationships always bring about fights, and once kids get thrown in the mix, forget it. Soon it gets messier and messier, until neither of you recognize who you’ve become.”
Dad fell silent, the twitch of his lips signaling he was fighting his emotions, something Ford had witnessed all of once before.
The day Ford informed Dad that he’d talked to Grandma Cunningham and not only was Ma never coming home, she was engaged to some rich dude.
For years, he’d attempted to stay out of the middle of his parents’ fights, and the one time he actually wanted to rant about Ma, Dad had fallen apart.
And now he was thinking of Doris’s words in a different way. She’d mentioned missing her husband for the past ten years and how hard life was without him. How she wanted to go be with him, since she was sure he was waiting.
What if the real risk with love was that you eventually ended up losing yourself? Feeling like half a person? Ford’s breaths came fast and shallow, dizziness setting in as he struggled to maintain control of his lungs.
“You’ve made a good life for yourself,” Dad gruffly said. “One where you get to enjoy havin’ your adventures. Girls like Violet, they expect the finer things in life. Sooner or later, it’ll become an issue. Just…be careful.”
Ironic that Dad chose the wordcarefulnow, instead of during Ford’s younger years when Dad let him and his brothers run wild in the woods.
“As for me…” Dad clapped him on the back, his features free of emotions once again. “I’ve decided when it comes to my addictions, between women and alcohol, booze is the safer bet.”
With that lovely sentiment hanging in the air, Dad climbed into his truck and took off, and Ford stood there telling himself that he was just a cynical old man.
Even as he started to wonder if he truly knew what he’d gone and gotten himself into.
Chapter Twenty-Three
