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52

To see where we stood.

To see if I was going to walk out the door and never come back.

Things I would never do because I cared about him and his daughter, those feelings growing stronger each day.

What happened between us last night wasn’t all his fault.

I knew I was inviting myself to stay in the kitchen rather than go right to bed.

And I had known how risky that was, how out of character that was, what kind of challenges that would create for us.

But unlike Ford, I didn’t regret a thing.

And maybe—just maybe—he would realize that he shouldn’t either.

Me: We’re in the middle of making paper flowers and clay vases. Your island is covered in construction paper and glittery pens and stardust. She’s having a blast.

Ford: I’m going to have the smartest kid in LA because of you.

Me: Her intelligence has nothing to do with me, but thank you for saying that. Seriously, she’s doing fab. After going through one of my cookbooks, she’s decided she wants this fancy egg salad with pickled onions o
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