Page 70 of Class Act

“No. I went to UCLA.”

His car arrived, and he stepped forward to open the passenger door for me while the valet put the car in park. I thanked him and got in, happy to feel the heater already blowing. Late October was definitely cool enough that I’d been feeling it on my bare legs.

“So can I ask you a personal question?” I asked him once we were moving through the quiet streets.

“I’m not sure. They’re not my favorite kind.”

I folded my hands together in my lap and pushed on anyway, figuring I had nothing to lose. While I was seriously developing genuine affection for Real Ford, I still wasn’t sure where I expected our association to go from here. Regardless, there didn’t seem to be a reason not to ask, other than him possibly being annoyed with me, and I’d survived that already.

“How did your wife pass away?”

He was quiet, but I didn’t get any angry vibes coming off of him, so I waited patiently to see how he’d respond. He cleared his throat and sighed. “She was killed in a car accident in London.”

“It’s lucky that none of the rest of you were hurt too badly.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. We were all back here at home. She was traveling alone.”

“Oh,” I replied.

He pushed out another breath, and I felt bad that I’d asked even as he seemed determined to answer. “After our kids were born and she struggled so much with postpartum depression, she became a different person. She . . . her words were that she couldn’t find satisfaction in her current life. I was surprised by that because she’d wanted kids and a home and she had loved her job as a high school math teacher. She . . .” he cleared his throat, and I could feel the pain and confusion he’d felt. I almost told him to stop, but he opened his mouth and continued. “She was talented, kind, funny, athletic, and loved to serve people. She hosted the best parties, and everyone really gravitated to her. But she couldn’t see herself like we did.”

He took a deep breath and then his shoulders relaxed as the rest of the story flowed out of him in a way that made me think he was releasing a long-held burden.

“Anyhow, all of this happened around the same time that my company became really successful. She’d always been low-key, but she started to spend money as a way to feel better. She was shopping all the time. It wasn’t only for herself, though. She bought things for me and the kids, for family and friends. Then she got into fashion, and she dove into it as a new passion. I wanted her to be happy, so I did my best to . . . well, we went to counseling and tried to find middle ground. She wasn’t a bad mom, but she was having a hard time feeling comfortable in her own skin and that spilled over into our family life. We came up with a compromise that she’d take one big trip every six months by herself or with friends to some fashion capitals. It ended with her being killed while heading to a fashion show in bad traffic during a storm.” He sighed and ran a hand along his chin. “In the end, it felt like we’d become strangers to each other. I was left with these two grieving children, but in a way, I’d been grieving for a long time as I watched her slip away from me.”

Wow. I could see now why he’d reacted so poorly to feeling like I’d plotted to get close to him. It probably felt like the only draw would have been his money, which was a painful repeat of something he’d already lived. Obviously he wasn’t having it. That had already destroyed a part of his life.

“That sounds very painful to watch someone you love struggle and then morph into a stranger.”

“It was. I’ve worked hard to protect Henry and Hillary from all of it. She loved them, and they loved her. I hope they were too young to feel her pulling away little by little. Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking they might be better off with a dead mother than with one who was slowly abandoning them.”

My throat felt thick at the thought of little ones waiting for their mom to come home and wondering where she was.

“No wonder you were so angry when you thought Hillary was trying to set us up,” I mumbled more to myself than him. “You must have seen a teacher, who you know for a fact has a low salary, eyeing your wealth to take away her worries.”

“I . . .” He paused. “I do owe you an apology for all of that. I handled it poorly.”

I grinned at him. “The good news is that you’ve learned the truth about me. Your money is safe.” I shot him a sassy look. “If I was after anything of yours, it would be that couch I slept on at your house. Expect it to be stolen at some point.”

“You definitely rate higher than members of the ape family.”

I laughed and let the subject drop, unwilling to pry any more tonight. It was enough that he’d been so open and that I now understood better why he’d been so resistant to me being around. I truly mourned for what him and his kids had been through. And Heather, too. She had my sympathy.

I could only hope that time would show Ford that I wasn’t a risk. I’d been raised in the world of mental health and understood how it affected lives. I’d also been raised with money-- although not the amount he was functioning with--and was well aware of what it could and could not provide. If he’d let me, I could be an empathetic and steady person in his life.

We arrived back at my condo complex, and he parked in guest parking. We walked together to my front door in comfortable silence, and he waited while I unlocked the door and opened it before turning to face him.

“Tonight was fun,” I said. “And, just so you know, I behaved myself and didn’t flirt with the other men in order to get their secrets.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better because I told you about my wife, and now I’m a tragic character?”

I dimpled. “Not at all. I thought you were tragic long before I heard about Heather.”

His entire face transformed as he let out a snort of amusement. “I’m glad to know I’m leaving such a good impression.”

“Goodnight, Ford,” I smiled warmly at him.

I went to shake his hand, but he surprised me by pulling me in for a hug. It only took a second for me to relax against him and embrace him back. It felt so good and natural as my heart picked up the rhythm of his. Real Ford felt so much better than I’d ever imagined he could. The hug lasted far longer than a regular goodbye should have, and I shivered at the warmth growing between us.

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