Page 14 of Eligible Best Friend

My body, against hers, shaking and grinding… Just dancing. Right.

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Lia

Ford has a body cut from stone, and right now, he’s moving like a giant slab of granite.

When I glance in the direction he’s looking, I see the reason. A matronly woman wearing a mother-of-the-bride dress is cutting through the crowd. Her expression is the same as I’d imagine on revolutionary soldiers marching into battle. Stoic, girded, prepared. Her flinty gaze travels over Maggie Monroe to Ford and skips over me. I guess since I’m with Ford, I mean nothing.

“Maggie,” the woman greets in a tone that could ice over a lake. Her neat blond bob is losing ground to silver, but she’s owning it. Her shoulders are back and her chin’s up, like the chip she carries on her shoulder has long been cemented into place.

Ford’s mom keeps her expression pleasant. “Helen, what a beautiful wedding.”

Helen’s smile solidifies until I think it might crack. The way she greeted Maggie and that she kept her married name when Maggie didn’t is telling. Ford was never adopted and as soon as his stepfather was in the ground, Maggie went to the courthouse, proudly claiming I was born a Monroe and my son is a Monroe.

I’ve seen it enough in my parents’ social circle. Helen Jenkins was still in love with her husband when they divorced and he married Maggie. It didn’t matter that he was a cheat and a grade A loser. Her loyalty and love couldn’t reform him and perhaps she feared Maggie’s could. What does she think now that the truth is out?

“I didn’t think you’d make it, given that you and the kids weren’t close.” Is Helen usually this blunt?

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Maggie’s a class act. Helen reminds me of a rough version of my own mom, saying whatever she can to put herself on the higher ground, but Maggie just rolls on like Helen’s barbs aren’t even there. “It was an honor to be invited.”

Helen’s light brows rise. “And a surprise.”

Perhaps the kids are moving beyond their dad’s transgressions faster than Helen is. Helen is probably the reason the kids were so hard on Maggie and Ford.

Chalk it up to the two flutes of cheap champagne, but I can’t keep my mouth shut. I grew up in politics. For all my mother’s faults, she can smooth over awkward situations. “It’s just wonderful that you all can come together for a momentous event like this. It certainly speaks of how well you raised Ryan and Karoline. They seem like lovely people, though I admit, I haven’t met the bride yet.”

Helen is blinking at me as if I just walked straight out of the hedgerow behind us and barged into the conversation. “Yes, well, they turned out very well. Despite everything.”

I hope she means everything, as in their father, but the cool way she regards Maggie, I’m not sure. Helen’s type needs constant distraction and flattery. “Karoline’s dress is gorgeous. What an eye for taste.”

Helen’s struggle to dismiss me is brief, but she caves under the compliments toward her daughter, her pride and joy. “It’s a Carolina Herrera. Her husband insisted she get what she wants.”

“He’s a very lucky man.”

Helen beams. Score. She’s about to tell me more. I’m sure to gush about how lucky he really is and how fortunate Karoline is, but someone calls her name. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Maggie lets out a hard breath, deflating like a Macy’s Day balloon. “I can’t believe that went well.” She touches my arm. “Thank you.”

Ford’s brows drop and his scrutiny is unnerving. I’ve told him about this part of my life, but the only part he’s seen in action is when I’m trying to convince a patient that they really should go to the hospital. “It’s not a problem. I grew up around a bunch of Helens.”

Ford’s inspection deepens. Did I upset him?

Maggie chuckles. “Well, I can tell you that I’m not used to having such savvy backup. You’re officially invited to everything I ever have to do with the Jansens in the future.” She gathers her clutch and drains her water. “On that note, I’ll give Karoline my regards as I leave, but my nerves can’t take more. You two stay and have fun. I have no doubt you’ll be fine.” Her grin is wry as she looks at Ford. “Just stick close to that one.”

She pulls him down for a hug. Watching his big body curl around his petite mom tugs my heartstrings. Everyone else sees his cocky, confident side, the competent paramedic with the easy charm that gets him into women’s pants with just a smile. They think everything comes easy to him, but I know better. I see how hard he tries to be a decent person, and his main motivator is Maggie.

When she leaves, we stand by the table, watching the reception workers clear the dance floor and the live band set up.

“Thank you,” is all he says.

“Anytime.” I glance at him. With the sun setting and sconces glowing, his expression is shadowed, brooding. “Are you okay?”

“Now that the big face-off with Helen was so anticlimactic. I came prepared for veiled insults or constant sniping meant to hurt Mom, but…”

He has a bunch of adrenaline and nowhere to use it.

The first chords of a slow dance drift through the tent. The lead singer calls the bride and groom out. Once their dance is done, a faster song plays.

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