Page 74 of Class Act

“Exactly. Next question. Who is your celebrity crush?”

I puffed out some air. “I don’t really crush on celebrities.”

“No lies. I know there’s a guy out there, on the big screen, making your eyes get all big and dreamy. Spill it.”

And I knew, I fully understood in that moment exactly why people followed Ford around like a fly to honey. He was funny, leading you through conversation effortlessly. What I’d seen as arrogance was confidence and calm. This man would make such an interesting life partner.

“Okay. There is one guy,” I hedged.

“I knew it.”

“It’s Idris Elba. The man is the whole package. Handsome, suave, classy . . .”

“Well, okay. Looking up Idris Elba as we speak.” He put me on speaker, and I laughed as I heard him mumbling to himself. “Yep, solid choice,” he said a few minutes later. “Totally drool-worthy.”

“Oh my gosh,” I cried, wanting to hide even though he wasn’t in the room with me. “Now you have to tell me yours.”

“Easy. Michelle Pfeiffer in the movie Stardust, 2007ish.”

“That’s awfully specific.”

“I take my crushes seriously,” he said, deadpan. “Moving on.”

My smile was making my cheeks ache as he guided me through more questions, but eventually the tone changed, and we entered territory that I wasn’t sure we had touched on before. We talked about our childhoods, our wins and losses, our college years, and our careers. It was more than I’d shared with anyone other than my women friends. As the conversation flowed I felt myself relaxing and trusting it to him. However, my heart felt like it stopped beating and my breath caught in my chest when he said:

“I think what I’ve realized is that I have to be more than only attracted to anyone I bring into my life or my kids’ lives going forward. I have to be with someone who is a friend, too. Heather and I, we were young. It was hot and heavy, and it went quickly. I wasn’t thinking about the long term; I was thinking about the now and, honestly, my hormones were involved, big time.” He paused, and I wasn’t sure what to say, so I did the thing I was best at and stayed quiet, listening. “That makes it sound like we weren’t friends. We were, but not . . .” He made a sound, and I could picture him trying to figure out what to say. “It’s important to me to get to know someone better before jumping into anything.”

“I totally understand, and I think you’re smart. You have different parameters as a forty-year-old parent than you did in your twenties. You can’t risk Hillary and Henry being hurt,” I replied softly.

“I can’t risk me being hurt again, either.”

Oh, wow. I ached for him, for the loneliness I could only imagine. I’d never been married or a parent, so I could only empathize with how hard it would be to be let down by, and eventually separated from, the one you were supposed to be going through it all with. The daily tug-of-war between business and fatherhood had to be exhausting. I wished I could see his face and promise him that the only thing I’d really ever need in life was just to be loved by someone. To have a place to belong. But it was too soon for those words, so I said what I could at the time.

“Friendship is important to me, too.”

“I’d like to be your friend,” he said, and while the words were vulnerable, the tone he used was strong and decided. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me, too,” I smiled into the darkness. “A lot.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The fair was crowded, as it always was, and I had to battle my way through the hordes of people to get near the big pumpkin Ford had set as our meeting place. I was wrapped in a tan wool coat that fell to mid-calf completed with a scarf over a soft, gray sweater. My jeans were cold against my legs, and I tugged my coat tighter around me. I loved the fair, but the weather this time of year wasn’t my favorite. Still, the scent of pumpkin and spice rising from the steaming cups all around me was enough to keep me from being too grumpy. That and the fact that I was sort of on a date with the guy I’d been playing pretend about for a long time.

While I’d sternly cleansed my mind of the daydreams, I hadn’t had any luck convincing my heart to entirely let go of hope—especially after the conversation a few days ago where we’d talked for two hours about everything under the sun and ended by admitting we’d like to get to know each other better. It was a huge leap I’d taken from internet stalker to attending a fair together, and I felt a little jittery as I neared our meeting place.

Ford was standing with his back to me, watching his children climb on the playground nearby. I recognized him anyway: tall, dark blond, casual stance, dressed like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine in dark jeans and a blazer. I paused a few steps away as a couple approached him and Ford turned slightly to shake their hands, a broad smile on his face. The three of them chatted easily, Ford laughing and charismatic as he conversed. Then three more people joined, and somehow Ford became the center of it, the sun they were all orbiting around.

Admittedly, I got it. I’d long known he had that certain quality that drew people in. And I’d also known that he liked being there in the middle, enjoying the spotlight and being around other people. But even though I accepted that about him, it caused a little pang in the center of my chest, hard enough that I reached up to rub the spot.

How did I think we’d blend our two very different personalities? One of the things that had drawn him to Heather was her exuberance. Would he find fault with my tendency toward quiet?

The motion of me lifting my hand caught Ford’s eye, and he glanced my way, his expression lighting up as our eyes met. I did my best to offer him a happy face, although it felt flimsy and unsure. Should I join that group or wait for him to wrap it up? What role did he want me to play in this scenario? I wasn’t a barge-into-conversation type. Was this relationship developing between us supposed to be public knowledge? He had, after all, asked me to the fair, which was an incredibly public event.

He was still talking to the others, but his eyes were so focused on me, taking me in as though I were the most interesting thing there, that the others with him started to notice his distraction and turned my way too. They scanned the crowd to see what had caught his attention, but they never settled on me. I shook my head and waved at him, hoping he understood that I was content to wait until he was finished with his conversation, but his eyes rolled humorously, and he patted the first man on the shoulder, excusing himself with a smile.

“What are you doing over here pretending you don’t want to talk to all those strangers?” he said with a chuckle before lightly grasping my elbow and brushing his lips against my cheek in that dimple spot he seemed so fond of. “You’re supposed to be my bodyguard.”

His easy manner and warm acceptance of my personality helped me relax. The look on his face didn’t hurt either. There was a new familiarity between us after the dinner date and the late-night conversation, and it was palpable in the way we gazed at each other as though we’d discovered something new and filled with possibilities.

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