Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Ford

“Remember that dream I had about all the purple flowers at a funeral last week?”

Mrs. Peabody didn’t even say hello. She just started talking when I answered the phone.

“Hey, Mrs. P.” I tossed my pen on my desk and leaned back into my chair. “Yeah, of course I remember. You had a strong premonition during the day that someone was going to die, and then you dreamed of a funeral with tons of purple flowers.”

“I threw up twice that day. But that might’ve been because of the tuna casserole this hellhole serves for lunch on Tuesdays. I despise Tuesdays. Who the heck thought it was a good idea to put mayonnaise in the oven anyway?”

I laughed for the first time today. “So what about the funeral? Did someone actually die?”

“Yep. The woman in the room next to me. Didn’t wake up on Sunday. They drop like flies around here in the summer. They say more people die in the two weeks following Christmas than any other time, but not at this place. It’s summer, for sure.”

“Were there purple flowers at her funeral?”

“Nope. Didn’t have a funeral. Just went straight to the crematory. Kids didn’t want to waste any of their inheritance, I’m sure. I prepaid for mine so I wouldn’t get cheated. Anyway, just wanted to tell you I was right again.”

“Not for nothing, Mrs. P, but you live in an assisted living facility with senior citizens who have health problems. I’m not sure you can call this one a premonition.” I reached for the coffee on my desk.

“That may be true. I suppose someone probably dies every week in this place. But the woman who kicked the bucket? Her name was Violet.”

I was mid coffee swallow and coughed it down the wrong pipe. “The woman’s name was Violet?”

“Mmmm-hmmm. So quit your doubting me, boy.”

We talked for fifteen minutes. Mrs. P told me her daughter had called and was planning to come visit, though I’d heard that a few times, and she still hadn’t shown up in all the years I’d been talking to her. She also complained about the physical therapist and the dentist—both of whom she swore were bilking her insurance because there was nothing really wrong with her.

“So how are things with the future Mrs. Donovan?” she finally asked.

I frowned. “Not sure you got that one right. Things aren’t going like I thought they would.”

“Welp. I call ’em like I see ’em. I can’t control if you go and screw things up. You met the woman destined to be your wife. Lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time a man threw a wrench into his own future.”

“What makes you so sure it’s me who’s screwing things up?”

“Because you just said things aren’t going like I thought they would.”

“So?”

“You don’t sit around expecting things to happen the way you’d like. You make them happen, dumbass.”

***

My afternoon meeting had been uptown.

I could’ve hopped in a cab afterward or even jumped on the subway located right in front of the building. But instead I decided to walk the thirty-something blocks back to my apartment. It was a nice summer evening. Going a few blocks out of my way to walk along the park wasn’t that unusual.

The fact that I happened to pass a certain French bistro—that was total coincidence, too. I lingered out front for a minute before deciding to go in. Why not stop in and have a beer since I was in the neighborhood? I didn’t even know if Eve would be here. Sure, she’d said she worked six days a week, but today could have been her only day off.

An older man in a suit stood at the front host area.

“Can I help you? Do you have a reservation for this evening?”

“Umm. I don’t.”

He used a finger to scan down a pretty full list of names and times. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any tables available.”

I looked around the restaurant and didn’t see any sign of Eve. My shoulders slumped, but I nodded. “Thanks, anyway.”

Just as I turned to walk back out, I heard my name. “Ford?”

“Hey.”

Eve walked out from a door toward the rear of the restaurant. I assumed maybe it was the kitchen.

“I was just…walking by and saw the place and…”

Eve smiled and came over to hug me. She absolutely knew I was full of shit, but seemed genuinely happy to see me.

“Come in. Let’s go sit at the bar.”

While she went around to the other side and made us both drinks, I checked out the restaurant. The place was really nice—tons of glass along the front that showcased the park across the street. The dining room had dark wood mixed with hot pink tablecloths and at least a dozen different, ornate crystal chandeliers. Oddly, it reminded me a lot of Eve’s personality.

“This place is really nice—kind of funky, yet traditional at the same time.”

She hopped up on the barstool next to me. “I’ve been here seven years.” She tilted her head toward a table in the corner. “Tom sat right over there for nineteen consecutive days until I agreed to go out with him.”

“What made you finally give in?”

“That night, the hostess told me he’d requested a reservation at the same table, at the same time, for a year.” She shrugged. “I figured any man who was that persistent was worth a date.”

I lifted the drink she’d set down in front of me. “A year, huh? I only have until Labor Day.”

Eve patted my hand resting on the bar. “I’m glad you just happened to be passing by. You know, my issues with Tom weren’t all that different than what’s going on in Val’s head. When I met him, I was thirty, and he was fifty. I joke that he’s old enough to be my father, but it was never the number that scared me. It was that we were in different places in our life. He was financially stable and thinking about retirement accounts. He’d made all of his mistakes and learned from them—he knew what he wanted. I, on the other hand, had just maxed out my credit cards buying designer waitress uniforms for a restaurant I didn’t know if I’d be able to pay the next month’s rent on, and I’d picked the last guy I dated because he had dimples—even though he was an unemployed, wannabe actor.”

“What made you get over the differences?”

She smiled and laughed. “I’m not sure I have. I still think four thousand for a Chanel bag is a better investment in my future than an IRA. I doubt we’ll ever see eye to eye on lots of things. But after our first date, he became my go-to person for stories. Silly things—I used to call my parents or Val to tell them something funny a customer did, or I’d call them to vent about my landlord raising my rent. Up until then, I’d never shared the small things that happened each day with anyone I dated. I’d get dressed up and go out on a date, have a solid time… I thought those dinners and nights out were life—but they weren’t. Life is the little things that happen between the fancy outings.”

I nodded. “I get it. But Val and I aren’t really in that different of a place in life.”

“Val thinks you’re supposed to be in a different place. She basically missed out on dating and everything that comes with being single in your twenties because she had Ryan so young. Plus, she’s gun-shy about relationships in general. Her ex-husband really burned her. She was a good wife—loyal and trusting. She didn’t see it coming when he cheated on her. And the fact that the woman was a young girl—she’s got to be thinking if her husband can do that…think about how things will go when she’s in her fifties and you’re still in your thirties.”

My shoulders slumped. “Are you trying to make me feel better? Because you’re doing a pretty shitty job.”

Eve smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, my only advice to you is to be patient. The more she enjoys each day with you, the more she’ll realize what’s important. She needs to figure things out on her own, and that’s going to take some time. But I can promise you one thing…she’s worth the wait.”

***

I didn’t like the way she’d handled shit.

I didn’t want to be just a summer fling

I didn’t like being hidden from her ex.

But Val had never been intentionally hurtful.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing.

I’d tried my hardest to make her feel like shit.

I’ll be over to fuck you at eight.

And for that, I owed her an apology.

I knocked and waited, looking down at my feet.

Val’s smile was hesitant when she came to the door. She also didn’t fully open it to invite me in. “Hey. I didn’t think you were back until later.”

“I jumped on an earlier train.” I looked up at her and caught her eyes. “I’m sorry for the shit I said over text, Val.”

She stepped back and opened the door wide. “It’s me who should be apologizing. Come in.”

For the entire two-hour train ride out here, I’d thought about what Eve had said—how I needed to give Val some space to find her own way. That had been my plan…until I walked into the living room and hauled her against me.

Yeah. Great plan for space.

I buried my face in her hair and inhaled deep. “I fucking missed you.”

“I’m sorry I pretended you were only here to fix the pipes when Ryan showed up, and I’m sorry I let him refer to you as the boy next door.”

“I get it.” I pulled back and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I hate it. But I get it. He was your husband for twenty years, and…you’re still telling yourself this is just a summer fling.”

“Ford…”

I pulled her against me and quieted her against my chest. “Let me finish my apology and then you can talk if you want. Okay?”

She nodded.

“People bring history into new relationships—past experiences, good or bad. You’re bringing blown trust, cheating, and disappointment with you. So you’re hesitant to get attached too fast. The biggest relationship influence I had in my life wasn’t even my own. I grew up watching my parents—who were very much in love and had their time cut too short. So I’m anxious to move forward, afraid to let something good slip through my fingers because we never know how much time we have.”

Val leaned back. She looked bewildered. “Are we sure I’m the one who’s twelve years older? Because honestly, you sound a lot more mature than I’ve acted lately.”

I pressed my lips to her forehead.

When she looked up at me, she smiled sadly. “I’m sorry about making you feel I wanted to hide what’s going on between us.”

I studied her eyes. “What is going on between us, Val?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But is it possible to have the right feelings at the wrong time? I feel like I’m not ready for anything serious, even though I’m sort of crazy about you. There are so many things I should do for me first.”

It fucking hurt to hear she thought it was the wrong time, but she’d come out of a twenty-year marriage and had only been with one man. I guess it was better she knew now that things with us couldn’t be forever, rather than figuring it out a year down the road.

What were my choices? Take what she was capable of giving me or walking away. The way I felt, I had no choice.

I swallowed. “Let’s just enjoy each other for the rest of the summer.”