“Then don’t you see how stupid this is?”
“It feels stupid,” I admit. “But I just want to be careful.”
A kiss comes quick and soft, his hands cupping the sides of my face. “I’ll call Violet and have her bring you some soup,” he says.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I told you this doesn’t change anything for me.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and then, with a hefty sigh, he drops his hands. He may as well have dropped my heart as he walks out the front door.
Ford
“ARE YOU HUNGRY?”
I step to the side to allow Sienna to make her way in. She holds up two greasy paper bags. “I brought dinner.”
“It’s amazing you don’t weigh seven hundred pounds with all the fast food you eat,” I laugh.
“So you don’t want it? I even got you a double-double with bacon and extra pickles.”
“How can I resist that?”
She grins. “Kitchen or living room?”
“Living room,” I say, heading that direction. “I’m not Graham.”
“You can say that again,” she scoffs. “I accidentally set a glass of water on his coffee table once. He got me a set of coasters for Christmas.”
She heads in front of me, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt with some kind of sparkles on the shoulders. On her feet are a pair of heels that make me wonder how in the hell she’s even walking in them.
I plop down on the couch and watch her place one bag in front of me.
“One time he insisted I stay at his place when I was home on leave. It was around the holidays, I think,” I say, opening the container. The scent of deep friend goodness hits me in the nose. “I took a shower, right? And hung the towel on the side of the shower to dry, thinking I’d re-use it later. I mean, I was clean when I used it.”
“I do the same thing,” she says with a mouthful of French fries.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Sometimes it’s amazing you are our mother’s child.”
“What?” she giggles, shoving in another fry.
“Anyway, when I went in to shower that night, the towel was gone and a piece of paper was taped to the door that the towels go in the hamper.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
The burger oozes condiments as I lift it to my mouth. “This is so good,” I say, searching the bag for a napkin. Before I can wipe my mouth, I take another bite.
“And I was afraid you wouldn’t be hungry,” she laughs. “You don’t normally eat so late, do you?”
“No,” I say through a mouthful of burger. I swallow and take a drink before continuing. “I don’t want to call it a fight, but Ellie and I had . . .”
“A tiff?”
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know. That’s what Mom calls it,” she laughs. “So what happened?”