Page 96 of Wild Love
I can tell he’s pretending because beside him is a pile of what I would refer to asperiod products.
Pads of every shape and size.
Tampons of every shape and size.
Midol.
A hot water bottle.
I sigh and glare at him. So awkward.
“I thought you weren’t going to tell him?” Cora throws her hands over her face like she can hide behind her palms.
I rub her back, bending at the waist to face her. “I didn’t. But, honey, adult men are well aware this happens to women every month. It’s not a global secret or anything. And you live with him, so like… he was going to figure it out.”
“Stop talking. I want to die.”
When I peek up at Ford, his eyes are wide. He’s a tall, green-eyed idiot who does not know what to do right now. I tip my head toward him, signaling that he shouldn’t just sit there like a statue.
He unfolds himself from the stool and takes long but tentative steps toward Cora. Then he crouches down in front of her, giving my calf a squeeze that sends butterflies erupting through my stomach. His other hand cups the pointed end of her elbow.
“Cora, I’m going to go bowling like a small-town weirdo tonight and leave you and Rosie to it. I’m not trying to make you want to die. I’m just trying not to drop any balls, remember? I didn’t get to know your dad, but it sounds like he was a great man. I think he’d want me to make sure you had all the things you needed. Your mom would too.” He points at the counter. “And that’s what I went and did to make myself useful, because I’m nervous and fumbling and trying not to fuck this all up with you.”
His voice hitches as the words come out, and I reach for his shoulder. It leaves us all huddled at the entryway to the kitchen. All connected by touch. By experience. By time and space and, shit, DNA.
Cora peeks at him from between her hands. “You’re not dropping any balls, Ford.”
He nods back at her. Squeezes her elbow. Then he stands abruptly and whispers roughly against my ear, “There are glass bottles of Coke in the fridge and the pantry is stocked with boxes of Old Dutch sour cream and onion chips. I flew them in for you. That was my errand. Have fun.”
I gasp because I told himweeksago those were my favorite snacks. A cut above.
He smiles against my cheek and presses a firm kiss to my hair before striding away like he’s being chased.
“I’m going bowling.” He swipes his keys off the counter and makes a very Ford joke in an attempt to leave us both laughing. “I’ll see you period princesses later.”
And it works. We’re both in stitches when the front door clicks shut.
I wake up to the feeling of knuckles brushing my cheek. When I open my eyes, Ford is sitting on the coffee table. Just like he did once before.
“Hi,” I murmur, shifting but not really bothering to right myself. I feel safe enough around Ford that being laid out in front of him isn’t alarming in the least.
“Hey.” He takes his hand away and I instantly wish he’d put it back.
“How was bowling?”
“Fucking awful. Bash was away, and he’s pretty good. West thinks getting team shirts and coming up with a name will somehow make us better. Crazy Clyde told me about the time aliens abducted him. So at least that was entertaining. And the beer was good.”
I smile sleepily. “I want to meet Clyde. You smell like beer.”
“It was West’s night to drive.”
West. I’m hit with guilt over not having seen him much lately even though I’m living on his property. Everything between the three of us is so different from when we were kids.
Ford sounds downright tortured when he whispers, “Rosie, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“With what?”
His eyes search my face.
