Three Little Words

He managed a slight smile. “I like that you could take my brother. He needs that in his life.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t speak.

“I know there’s stuff in your past,” he continued. “I know you did things—some unspeakable things—to help our country, and that you’re as proud of that as you are scared to tell me the details.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry you went through that, but if you’re waiting for me to judge you, you’ve got the wrong guy. I won’t. Not ever.”

He thought about his past, how he’d taken the easy road. The one without risk. Maybe it was all so he could come to this moment.

“I know it’s fast and you have no reason to believe me, but I love you, Consuelo. I want you in my life, and I want to be in yours. I want to love you and take care of you for as long as you’ll have me. I want us...” He sucked in a breath. “Okay, it’s too soon to say the rest of what I want, but you get the idea. If you’re interested.”

She stared at him for a long time before launching herself around the desk and into his arms. He caught her as she rushed him, hauling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist; then she started to kiss him.

“I thought you’d left me,” she admitted. “I was never going to fall in love, and you broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It was me. I should have called and talked to you. I shouldn’t have been so afraid.” She stared into his eyes. “It’s just I’ve never known anyone like you. I’m so scared you’re going to figure out that you can do better and then you’ll be gone.”

“Never,” he promised, then kissed her.

She kissed him back, holding on so tight he knew she would never let go.

She raised her head, her eyes bright with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love you, and yes, when it’s time, let’s have that other conversation. But for now, we’ll hang out and have lots of sex.”

He started to laugh then, because how on earth a guy like him found a woman like her was beyond him. But he’d been lucky and he planned to spend the rest of his life being very, very grateful.

* * *

“YOU’RE AN INCURABLE slob,” Isabel said to herself as she picked up a monster-truck magazine and two coffee cups. They’d been left in the living room, along with a lot of other stuff belonging to Ford. She put the magazine on the shelf under the coffee table and carried the mugs into the kitchen.

The man could barbecue, he could make her laugh and cause her to see stars in bed, but he left a trail of crap wherever he went. A small price to pay, she thought, nearly tripping over a pair of boots by the bathroom.

She carried the boots into the bedroom.

Sometime in the past few weeks, Ford had basically moved in with her. They were together every night, and somehow his clothes had started appearing in her closets and drawers. She would give him credit for doing the laundry. At least twice a week she came home to a freshly washed and folded pile of panties and bras. Her towels were always clean, as was the bathroom, now that she thought about it.

She set his boots in the closet and pushed them forward so she could close the door. Only they wouldn’t move. Something was in the way. She saw his duffel and shifted it. The zipper was open and a banded stack of letters tumbled to the carpet.

Isabel immediately recognized her own handwriting. She reached for the letters and undid the elastic band. The envelopes fanned out in her hand.

These were from when she was in high school, she thought. She bent down and saw three more banded groups of envelopes in his duffel. All her letters? Was it possible he’d kept them?

She sank onto the carpet and opened the top letter. The first thing she noticed was how worn the paper was. The seams where it had been folded were practically translucent. Some of the individual words had faded, and there were smudges on the side from being held.

Every one of them looked the same. Worn, well read. As if Ford had pored over them a dozen times. No, a hundred. She’d often wondered if he even cared that she wrote, but now she saw that somehow she’d connected with him.

She scanned the contents of the pages, wincing as she saw hearts in the margins or a particularly hideous picture spilling out. She heard footsteps and looked up. Ford stood in the bedroom.

“I was such a kid,” she said, waving the letters. “How did you stand it?”

“I liked them. I watched you grow up.” He gave her a slow smile. “You turned out good.”

He stood there all tall and broad. He wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt. Very “mercenary does Fool’s Gold.” He was tough and sweet, and she’d fallen for him weeks ago. Between then and now had simply been an attempt to avoid the obvious.

She scrambled to her feet and put the letters on her dresser. “So I have some news.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “New lip gloss? What’s the flavor?”

She stepped back. “This is serious.”

“So’s your lip gloss. Is it piña colada?”

“Yes, now listen. I’m staying.”

He looked at her as if he hadn’t understood what she’d said.

“I’m staying in Fool’s Gold. I’m going to expand Paper Moon and add a boutique.” She drew in a breath. “Obviously Sonia is a big part of why, but you are, too. I know this was just supposed to be pretend. But it’s not. At least not for me.” She twisted her fingers together.

“I’m in love with you, Ford. I think I have been since I was fourteen. At the very least, I’ve been waiting for you to come back. Or us to find each other. Either way, I love you.”

She had more she wanted to say, more she wanted to hear, but she didn’t get the chance. The affection fled his face and suddenly she was staring at the surprised features of an uncomfortable stranger.

He didn’t say anything. Not a single word. Instead he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. A few seconds later, the front door of the house closed and she was alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ISABEL WAS UNAWARE of the specifics when it came to the passage of time. She went through nights and days, she showed up at work and apparently made sense, but she wasn’t really there. Fortunately, there were no big decisions to be made, no orders to get right. She oversaw fittings and suggested veils and smiled when Madeline talked, but it was as if it were happening to someone else.

Friday she closed the store at six and headed home. The days were getting a little shorter. Lights were on in several of the houses in her neighborhood. She could see happy families gathering in kitchens and family rooms. But when she got to her house, it was dark. No lights, no Jeep with painted flames. Just a silent, empty house.

Ford was gone. He hadn’t said anything and then he’d left. She’d said the words he hadn’t wanted to hear, and she’d lost him forever.

She walked up the driveway, toward the back door. It was open, as always. Because this was Fool’s Gold and nothing bad ever happened here.

Only it had.

She walked into the kitchen and set her purse on the counter. After changing into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she started back toward the kitchen. Only once she got there, she didn’t want to eat. She sighed. Maybe having a broken heart would get rid of those stubborn ten pounds she was always trying to lose.

Someone knocked on the front door. She walked through the house knowing there was no way it was Ford. He would simply walk in the back, as he always did. Something else he wouldn’t be doing again. Something else she would have to get used to.

She opened the door and saw Jo standing there with a blender under each arm.

“Hey,” her friend said. “We heard and we’re here. I have a new recipe for rum slushies. I think they’re going to be a hit.”

Before Isabel could ask what was going on, over a dozen women spilled into the house, and everyone was carrying either food or alcohol.

Felicia followed with Dellina and Annabelle. Charlie ushered in Madeline, who hesitated.

“I’m the one who told,” she confessed.

Charlie nodded. “Madeline called and said what had happened.” She smiled at Madeline. “You would have been a lousy firefighter, but I hear you sell a mean dress and you’re an excellent friend.”

Isabel looked at Madeline. “How did you know?”

Madeline shrugged. “I’ve never seen you look so sad and broken. I didn’t know what to do, so I phoned Charlie. She arranged all this.”

Isabel felt herself fighting tears. She walked over to Madeline and hugged her, then turned to Charlie and did the same. The taller woman held her tight.

“All men are assholes,” Charlie assured her.

“Not Clay.”

“He’s an exception, but we aren’t here to talk about him.”

Isabel stepped back and nodded. She knew that most of the women in the room would claim their husband or fiancé was an exception, but she was okay with that. Just because her heart was broken didn’t mean the rest of the world couldn’t be happy.

Maeve waddled in, looking more pregnant every time Isabel saw her. “He’s an idiot,” her sister said, hugging her. “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.”

As always, Jo set up a bar in the kitchen. Drinks were poured, food dished and laid out. There were plates of brownies, plenty of cookies and ice cream. For the salty snackers, bowls of chips and dip were scattered around the living room. The blender went on and off with great regularity, and everyone declared the rum slushies a hit.

By her second one, Isabel went from crushed to crushed and buzzed, which turned out to be a better place. Somewhere around seven-thirty, Consuelo and Taryn walked in.

Consuelo rushed to Isabel’s side. “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting next to her on the sofa. “I just got the message. I had my phone turned off.”

“Enjoying a little new-boyfriend fun?” Dellina asked, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

Isabel shook her head and smiled. “No. Don’t be sorry. We are going to drink to my friend and her official relationship with Kent. Because I love you enough to want you to be happy.”

Consuelo hugged her. “I can seriously hurt Ford, if you want. I know his vulnerabilities.”

“Maybe later,” Isabel said, determined to get through the evening without humiliating herself.

Her house was filled with people who obviously cared about her. Whatever she needed, they would provide. She only had to ask. They would be here for her. She was lucky. She only wished it was enough.

Taryn—still stunning in tight-fitting jeans, a silk blouse and boots—strolled over. “I’m confused. I was told to show up, but the reason is unclear.”

“Ford dumped her,” Charlie said. “He’s such an idiot.”

Taryn sat on the coffee table in front of Isabel. “Seriously? I’ve seen you two together. I would swear he was completely into you.”

“I think he was,” Isabel said, not sure if talking about it made her feel better or worse. “We were having a great time together. I’m the one who changed the rules.”

“Did he freak out when he learned you were staying?” Taryn asked. “Men are so damned delicate. I swear, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I have with the boys.”

“That was part of it.” Isabel drew in a breath. Maybe if she told them what had happened, she could begin to heal the gaping hole in her chest.

“I told him I loved him.”

The room went quiet. She felt everyone looking at her. She drew in a breath and continued.

“I wrote him letters from the time I was fourteen until I was twenty-four. He was in the military, and I thought I loved him, so I wrote letters. They were silly. I was a kid, and he never answered. But writing them kept him alive in my head, if that makes sense.”

Patience nodded. “Of course it does. I’m sure he appreciated them.”

“I don’t know. He kept them. I found them the other day. They were worn, as if he’d read them a hundred times.”

Several women sighed.

“I realized I belonged here. In Fool’s Gold and with Ford. So I told him I wasn’t leaving and that I was in love with him. And then he left.”

She felt the first tear slip down her cheek.

Consuelo grabbed her free hand. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. He turned and left without a word.”

“I raised him better than that.”

Isabel pulled her hand free and wiped her face, then looked up to see Denise Hendrix walking toward her. Ford’s sisters were with his mother, and they all looked sad and upset.

“I’m sorry,” Denise said. “I heard what happened. I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you.”

“No, of course not.” It was a little strange, but Isabel had enough rum slushie in her not to worry about a detail like that.

Denise took a chair close to the sofa. “I’m sorry for not believing you. I didn’t think you and Ford really were seeing each other. I thought it was an elaborate scheme so I’d stop bugging him.”

Isabel’s eyes widened. “It was,” she admitted.

Denise looked more pleased than upset. “I knew it!” She sighed. “Now I know why you were avoiding me and our tea. Your excuses were starting to get elaborate.” She patted Isabel’s arm. “I have six children. It takes a lot to fool me.”

“I’m sorry,” Isabel murmured, fighting tears again. “I should have come to see you while I still could. Now I’m not with Ford and...” She held in a sob.