“I guess I felt like you’ve been avoiding me lately,” I say softly. “Have you?”
He swallows and nods. “A little.”
“Are you hurt I’m with Reeve?” I ask gently, then amend. “I mean, was with Reeve, because I think this is totally a past-tense situation.”
“We can talk about that in a minute, but no, I’m not hurt you’re with Reeve. He’s a good guy and I want you to be happy.”
“But you’re acting like you’re hurt,” I prod, because I can sense there’s more.
“Saddened,” he clarifies. “I guess maybe deep down, I thought maybe you and I would eventually . . . you know . . . just stick with each other.”
“But we’ve been on and off for years,” I point out.
“Yeah, but I knew it was different with Reeve. There wasn’t going to be an on again after him. So I think I might just be mourning something that I’ll never have again.”
I blink at him in surprise. “Why would you say that? How could you possibly know that?”
Ford gives me a knowing smile. “Think back. Every other time you’ve wanted to pursue someone, I would ask you if you wanted me to back away, right?”
I nod at him, take a sip of my wine, and let it swirl briefly on my tongue before I swallow.
“Every time your answer was always, ‘Yes, for now.’ You always added on, ‘For now.’ I always knew you’d come back to me eventually.”
I cock my head at him, confused at what he’s trying to say. “I don’t understand.”
“This time,” Ford says dramatically as he leans forward for a slice of cheese, “you didn’t say, ‘For now.’ You just said you wanted me to back away. I could tell then, Reeve was different. I could tell then that you weren’t coming back.”
My gaze lowers down to my wine, my heart hurting over Ford’s words. In a way, I’m now mourning my loss of Ford, because I hadn’t really thought of that before. But it’s true . . . when I told Ford to back away, I was going all-in with Reeve. It was the first time that had happened since I’d started working with Ford, and he saw and understood something then that I’m only getting now.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly as I look back up at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ford shakes his head with a smile. “I’m not hurt, Leary. Again, just a bit sad. An end of an era and all that, so to speak. But you are now and always will be my friend.”
His words are sure and true. He means it, and I feel immensely better.
“So, what did you do to fuck up this thing with Reeve?” he asks me out of the blue.
“What makes you think I did something wrong?”
“Because you have that shamed-dog look, and besides that, I know for a fact that Reeve is crazy about you. If you’re sitting here talking to me, you did something to mess up what you two have going.”
“Jeez, Ford,” I whine. “How about give me a little credit? Maybe Reeve did something wrong, too.”
“Probably,” he agrees as he leans back on the couch and swirls his wine. “But I’m a smart guy. Reeve is a relatively calm guy and is the type to reasonably and maturely talk things out. I know you very well, and you are stubborn and have a terrible temper that makes you say things you later regret. I’m going to stick by my original feeling and say you did something to fuck up.”
“I hate you know me so well,” I grumble. And then admit, “I did fuck up. I got mad at him today for something that really wasn’t his fault, wouldn’t give him the time of day to talk about it, and then told him I was going out with you tonight.”
“You’re such a brat,” Ford says. “Why in the hell would you tell Reeve you were going out with me?”
“To make him mad. To hurt him the way I was hurting,” I defend myself. “At least I was honest about it. I told him I was punishing him.”
Ford looks at me disapprovingly, then leans forward for more food. “What did he do?”
“He walked out on me. He said, ‘So be it,’ which in general breakup terms means ‘Fuck you very much, it was nice knowing you.’” My voice cracks and takes on a panicked edge.
“Calm down, babe,” Ford says gently. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened.”
“Not much to tell,” I say dejectedly. “We had the LaPietra mediation today. The insurance adjuster didn’t show up. Reeve confirmed there’d be no offer. I went ballistic and blamed Reeve.”
“Did he know the adjuster wasn’t coming?” Ford asks.
“No. He was just as surprised as we were.”
“Then why in the world would you be mad at him?”
“Because he works for Lucifer. He works for and makes a salary from these evil, evil men. He continues to defend this case when in good conscience he knows it’s not defendable. He’s nice and sweet and caring, and it hurts me that he’s working in opposition to me.” My chest is heaving from the oxygen it took to get out that angry outburst, but at least I laid out my true feelings. I really don’t need to elucidate further, because Ford knows how I feel about big business. He knows that I view them as soulless corporations out to screw the little guy. He knows this is personal to me, because for much of my life, my family was the little guy.
“This case is more important to me than any case I’ve tried in my entire legal career,” I say softly. “And Reeve wants me to lose it. He’s going to try to make me lose it. How can I want to be with someone who wants bad things for me?”
Ford’s mouth draws down into an empathetic frown. He stands from the couch and sets his wineglass down. He circles the end table and reaches out to take my glass from my hand. I easily let it go.
Kneeling down in front of me, Ford takes my hands and squeezes them. “You’re not being fair to Reeve. You knew who he was and what he was when you started this. You had no problem sleeping with the enemy. Logically, you knew going into this there was going to be a winner and a loser. And I get it—now that feelings are involved, it’s a tougher pill to swallow reconciling Reeve your opponent with Reeve your lover.”
I nod at him, because he’s spot-on.
“But what you’re failing to understand is that Reeve does not want you to be hurt by the outcome, I can guarantee you. Is he very much aware that his efforts can cause you to lose? Yes. But he’s just doing his job. Is he going to be happy if he wins? Maybe, because that means he did his job well. Is he going to hurt that you’re hurt? I guaran-fucking-tee you that is going to be the case. So my question to you is, why can’t it be enough that he doesn’t want to hurt you? In this scenario, when that’s the best you can hope for in this fucked-up relationship you have, why isn’t that good enough for you? If you can’t accept that about him, then you need to let him go.”
My head spins and my jaw drops in guilty realization of everything that Ford just laid out to me. “I can,” I whisper with sudden realization. “I can accept that.”
Ford cocks a skeptical eyebrow at me.
“I can accept that,” I say in a stronger voice. “I guess I just didn’t realize it until now. I think I forgot that this may be hard on him, too.”
Nodding, Ford says with a smirk, “Congratulations, I now proclaim you to be a reasonably mature woman.”
I smack Ford on the shoulder. “Smart-ass.”
Ford goes back to the couch. He takes a few more crackers and cheese. “So what are you going to do to fix this?”
“I’m thinking groveling may be involved,” I say dejectedly.
“No time like the present. Give him a call now.”
“Right now?” I ask hesitantly. Not because it’s an insane idea, but because I’m still fresh off being embarrassed about making an ass of myself.
“Right now,” Ford affirms, grabbing his glass of wine and sinking back into the couch.
“And . . . you’re just going to sit there and listen in on my conversation?” I ask dubiously.