Page 60 of Always a Bridesmaid
Violet set down her camera and picked up her squirming niece. “Sounds like I’d better get you dressed for daycare to remain in your mommy’s good graces. What would you like to wear today?”
Isla babbled, and Violet responded as if she’d picked a particular outfit. “The purple one? I think that’s an excellent decision.”
As she was maneuvering wiggly baby limbs into a purple floral romper, longing flickered.
As hard as she tried to deny it, she still wanted a baby. The picture on the dresser of Travis, Maisy, and burrito-baby Isla caught her eye.
Snapshots only showed instances in people’s lives, a blip of a second. Yet they also told a story about the subjects’ past, future, and everything in between.
Maybe she’d been too hasty, giving up men when she hadn’t dated more than one in the past decade.
Then again, the only guy who’d tempted her to redact her proclamation hadn’t called or texted in five days. She’d taken it to the Bridesmaid Crew chat, asking their advice. Leah said don’t go down that road again, and Amanda pointed out that when she met her now-husband, he wasn’t looking for anything serious, either, but that quickly changed.
Violet uploaded one of the pictures she’d taken of Ford and Pyro, and suddenly Camille and Alyssa came out of the woodwork to heart-eye the pics and add a GIF of a cartoon character with his eyes bulging out of his head. Not a huge help, considering she was well aware of how hot he was.
Plus, Violet was fairly certain that she and Ford had switched places andhewas the one avoidingher.
…
Ford wasn’t avoiding Violet. He was just making sure to go to places she wouldn’t be.
Which was damn inconvenient, considering he needed to pick up cupcakes for the baseball game. Like the wuss he’d become, he peeked through the window.
Maisy stood at the cash register, helping out the Garcias.
Violet was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in a corner he couldn’t see. Or the kitchen.
Okay, presumably not the kitchen. Surely Maisy knew better by now.
The instant he stepped inside the bakery, the excessively loud chime announcing his arrival, Maisy gandered in his direction.
And frowned.
Ford lumbered toward the front, waiting for her to curse him out for not calling her sister, even thoughshe’dditchedhimon the ride home and that still stuck in his craw.
“I’m so sorry,” Maisy said. “The cupcakes you and Easton ordered for the teams aren’t quite ready yet, but I promise, cross my heart, you’ll have them by the end of the baseball game.”
Since the greeting was different than he’d expected, it took him a moment to decipher what she’d actually said. “No problem. Should I send someone over during the last inning? A parent, maybe?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want anyone to miss any of the game. I’ll get them to the field, don’t you worry.”
“All right. Then I guess…” Ford rocked on his heels and glanced around.
“She’s not here.”
“Who’s not here?” Ford casually glanced at Maisy. “I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Wow. You’re not a good liar, Ford McGuire.”
Another moment of debating, and he blew the cover he’d failed to maintain anyway. “How’s Violet doing?”
“She’s been taking pictures again. I think I have you to thank for that, but since she also keeps checking her phone, waiting for someone to call, I’m gonna keep the thanks to myself.”
“I’ll take that information and run with it anyway.”
“Figured you would. Hope that big head fits out the door. I don’t have time to dislodge it. In case you haven’t heard, I’m behind.”
“I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Ford left the bakery, unable to conceal his grin. Violet was taking pictures again, and a small part of that was because of him.
