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I make a noncommittal sound as I step back and glance around. My nerves are set to vibrate, and I wait for a photographer to pop up from behind a boxwood and take a picture. But people pass by, paying us little attention.
That’s a relief, honestly, but not the plan. Maybe this was a silly idea.
I blow out a sigh. “That’s a long story.”
Dressed from head to toe in Ralph Lauren, he lifts his wrist and consults his watch. “I’ve got time. And lucky for you, we’ve got a mile of the best retail therapy in the country.”
He slings an arm over my shoulder, and I instantly feel better. Lighter. A little less like a raging bitch, but I remind myself that I only told my mother the truth. Was it harsh? Sure. But guess who made me that way?
“Come on. You look like you need to burn some plastic, stat.”
I grin, and he tugs me into a boutique overflowing with decor, candles, and snacks. Ford, of course, heads for a table of sweets.
“So what’s going on?” He shoves a bar of chocolate, shaped like a lobster, into my hands and steers me toward a rack of scented candles.
I tell him about the auction and Mother’s hand in it. How Alex whisked us away from the city because photographers were chasing us.
“We’re not celebrities. I don’t understand the fascination,” I tell him, running my hand over a lovely throw blanket.
“You are this week.” Spoken like a man who has never been bothered by the spotlight. He snags the throw and tucks it under his arm.
As I grumble about the unwanted attention, he pays for our selections and maneuvers me back out onto the sidewalk.
“I know you’d rather hide out with your plants, and I’m sorry if my stepping away from the family business makes things harder on you.”
I give my brother points for being that self-aware. “I’m realizing why you did. I’m never going to be enough, am I?”
He pauses, hands full of bags, and stares down at me. Lips pursed, he gives a slow shake of his head and my heart sinks. Which is funny because I think deep down, I’ve always known that.
I glance around the beautiful tree-lined street with its brick sidewalks and polished windows. It’s another warm spring day. But I feel cold. Jaded. Eyes wide open and not thrilled with the view.
Is this how the rest of my life is going to look?
Endless engagements all to make the family firm wealthier? Trying to impress grumpy old men and an emotionless mother in a vain attempt to win their praise and appreciation?
“Come on. Let’s go buy some lotions and potions.” He nudges me toward my favorite skincare shop, and I don’t protest. I’m a woman in need of a kick-ass under-eye cream.
After a stop by the lingerie shop, where I buy myself a bra and a few pairs of panties, he drags me into a wine and cheese shop. We catch up on him and his dating life and Sutton and his non-dating life. Sutton became our step-brother when our father married his mother. Sadly, she died a few years later, but Ford and Sutton have been inseparable since.
Then we’re on to lunch, seated outside a cute cafe. Roman is stationed two tables away, doing a decent job of blending in.
“I had another panic attack last night,” I admit.
“That’s rough.” Ford studies me with those keen blue eyes that match our father’s. “You okay now?”
He reaches for his water glass as I nod.
“Alex got me out of there. I was just—” I talk with my hands, reliving those awful moments until I felt Alex’s touch. “Frozen. Locked up. It all came rushing back.”
I don’t need to elaborate, and that’s one of my favorite things about my relationship with Ford. He’s always been there for me. And me for him. Sometimes, it was us against the world.
My phone buzzes, but I ignore it and continue. “The paps chased us. Like on motorcycles.”
The muscle in his jaw flexes. From a young age, we’ve been protective of each other. Which makes all of this that much harder to tell him. He’s always been there. My confidant.
And last night, I leaned on another man.
Two other men, I guess. If you want to be technical.
