Page 80 of Deal Breaker
After buckling Poppy in, I slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath. I focus on the sound of my daughterhumming in the back seat, reminding myself that I need to keep things normal for her, especially when it feels like everything else is shifting.
We hit the bakery for donuts, where she stares wide-eyed at the display case for ages, finally settling on a chocolate one with rainbow sprinkles. She talks nonstop about her sleepover, about the movie she watched with my dad, about how she thinks she might want to be a “kayak scientist” when she grows up. I nod and laugh and ask questions, but in the back of my mind, my mom is still there.
And so is Ford.
The memory of last night is still warm on my skin. The way he looked at me, touched me, kissed me like I was still his. The way I let him, and how the guilt had hit me as soon as I opened my eyes this morning.
It’s all tangled together now. Ford. Poppy. My mom. This heavy truth I’m carrying. It all feels like a bomb waiting to explode, ticking louder by the day.
By the time we get home, Poppy’s yawning between bites of her donut, so I scoop her up and carry her inside. She’s getting too big for this, but I don’t care. I need the closeness. The comfort.
Later, when she’s curled up on the couch watching cartoons, I sit at the kitchen table with my phone in my hand, staring at the screen. I should call Ford, but there’s something else I need to do first. I open my contacts, searching for the name of my mom’s doctor.
Hi, this is Landyn Sinclair, Carolyn’s daughter. I’m wondering if she has any upcoming appointments. If not, I’d like to bring her in.
I’m curledup in bed, the room dark except for the faint glow coming from my phone.
Ford: Can’t stop thinking about you in my bed last night. I barely made it through that meeting today.
A slow smile pulls at my lips.
Me: That very important meeting that required your full attention?
Ford: I paid attention. Sort of. Not really. You distracted the hell out of me. All I could see was you riding me with your hands on my headboard.
Heat floods my cheeks as I bite my lip, memories flooding my mind. I shouldn’t encourage him. But God, I want to.
Ford: I miss you, and my bed is way too cold now.
I exhale, sinking deeper under the covers.
Me: I’m sure you will survive. So how did the meeting go?
Ford: Not as good as I hoped. They want to see me again tomorrow. I’ll be tied up dealing with this for the next couple days, still trying to clean up the mess we’re in.
My stomach twists slightly. Work. Reality. Everything waiting to catch up to us.
Me: I’m sorry. You okay?
Ford: Getting there. I just hate that I won’t see you.
Me: I understand. You’ll be busy saving Cove.
Ford: Still gonna think about you. Every night. Every time I close my eyes. I’ll make it up to you, June. Promise. I miss you.
I stare at that nickname like it might break me. Then I write the only thing I can.
Me: I miss you too.
I set the phone down on the nightstand and sink deeper into my pillows, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. But it doesn’t work. I pull the quilt up over my chin, hoping to muffle the sounds of my sobbing.
Poppy is asleep down the hall, tucked safely in her bed, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals. She is sweet and funny and curious. She has the most infectious laugh, and loves being outside. She’s perfect. And he has no idea. Fordhas missed seven years of milestones that he will never be able to get back—first words, first steps, birthday candles, scraped knees, dance recitals, all the big and little moments that make up a life.
It's my fault that he doesn’t know her. And it’s my fault that I’m falling for him all over again without telling him the one thing that could change everything.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but all I see is the way he looked at me last night—like I’m something he’s been waiting for.
But the truth is, he doesn’t know everything about me. And the parts I’ve kept from him may end up being more than he can forgive.
