Page 99 of Deal Breaker
“Hi,” he says, voice low.
Poppy looks up first. Her head tilts. She stares at him like she’s trying to place him.
I turn slowly. Ford’s standing a few feet away, hands shoved in his jean pockets. Uncertainty is written all over his face but he’s still so breathtakingly handsome. His eyes flick to me, then back to Poppy.
“Hi,” I say, voice catching.
Poppy glances between us. “Do you know my mom?”
Ford crouches down slowly, coming to eye-level with her. “I do,” he says. “I’ve known her a long time.”
She studies him, then looks at me. “Is this the friend you said we were meeting?”
My stomach twists. I nod. “Yeah, baby. This is Ford.”
Ford’s throat moves like he’s trying to swallow the lump in it. “Hi, Poppy.”
She stares at him for another long beat. Then, with perfect, innocent ease, she offers her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ford.”
He smiles, just slightly—but it softens everything about him. He shakes her hand like it’s the most important thing he’s done all day. “Nice to meet you too.”
And just like that, the world shifts beneath us.
Poppy gestures to the chair beside her. “Do you want to read a book with us? It’s about a girl who finds a baby dragon in the forest.”
Ford lowers his six-foot-one body carefully into the seat, and I watch the way his knees fold awkwardly to fit in the kid-sized chair. It’s sweet and a little comical. “I’d love to hear about it,” he says.
Poppy beams and starts flipping through the pages. “Okay, so this is Ember, she’s the dragon, and she’s scared of people, but the girl brings her strawberries and sings to her every day until she’s not scared anymore.”
Ford leans in closer, elbows resting on his knees, eyes on Poppy like no one else exists in the world. “Sounds like a smart girl.”
“She is,” Poppy says, nodding. “And Ember lets her ride on her back, and they fly over the mountains. That’s as far as I got, I haven’t finished it yet.”
“Wow,” Ford says, his smile tugging wider. “You’re really good at telling stories.”
She preens under the compliment, glancing at me. “Mom says I’m a storyteller just like her.”
Ford’s eyes lift to mine. “She’s not wrong.”
There’s a tenderness in his voice I didn’t expect, and I have to look away before the weight of it makes my chestcave in. Poppy leans over and hands the book to Ford. “You read it now.”
He takes it from her gently, glancing over the cover. I can tell he’s nervous by the bob of his Adam’s apple and the faint stutter in his voice. He begins anyways. “Alright, let’s see what Ember’s up to.”
For the next 10 minutes, I sit there in silence and watch the two of them. Ford’s voice is soft and careful, with just enough playfulness to hold Poppy’s attention. She laughs at the silly parts. She rests her chin in her hands, taking in every detail. And Ford watches her like he’s trying to memorize every blink, every giggle, every smile.
Something cracks open in me as I take it all in. A glimpse of what could have been. What still might be. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t my broody Ford being so open and natural with a 6-year-old.
When they finish the book, Poppy sighs dramatically. “I wish Ember was real.”
“Me too,” Ford says, handing it back. “I think you’d be a good dragon friend.”
Poppy grins at that. “Do you like dragons, Ford?”
“I do,” he says. “Especially purple ones.”
She giggles and then, out of nowhere, she says, “You have the same eyes as me. They’re gray.”
Ford freezes.
