of it, of course, right under the surface.
The worst part was listening to Ford bend over backwards to agree with everything his mom was saying, which gave me the sinking feeling—yet again—that there really was no hope for us. It was the same feeling I’d had since this afternoon, when Ford refused to change anything in the apartment. And that was when it dawned on me.
Ford didn’t want to change the apartment because Claudia had lived here with him. I could see it all so clearly now. He liked the way Claudia had done things. Just like his parents did. Because Claudia wasn’t just perfect—she was perfect for him.
Ford must still be in love with her.
And me? I was just a distraction he was having fun banging. Maybe even part of a larger plot Ford had masterminded in order to make Claudia jealous—jealous enough to grovel and beg and bend to his every wish when she inevitably came back around.
And there wasn’t anything I could do about it. All I could do was perform the role I had agreed to play for the rest of the year, to the best of my ability. So that when this was all over, I’d never have to deal with the Malone family again.
Exactly the way they wanted.
Emzee
Chapter 8
By the time the Malones finally said their goodbyes and the leftover food and dirty dishes were all squared away, I wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot, soul-cleansing shower and go directly to bed.
Ideally alone.
I hated that I couldn’t go back to the sanctuary of my own apartment. I hated that I was trapped, living in what felt like a memorial to Ford’s ex-girlfriend.
Before I could make my retreat, though, Ford followed me into the bedroom, an unreadable expression on his face.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“Oh really?” I snarked. “Do tell.”
I didn’t even try to hide my irritation. Who could blame me? He was the reason I’d gotten into this whole wedding mess in the first place. Specifically because he hadn’t wanted his parents pushing him with Claudia. And now this?
“You think I’m still in love with Claudia,” he said.
“Why would I think that?” I asked, all sarcasm. “Because you didn’t stop your parents from talking about her all night? Or—oh—maybe because you can’t bear to part with anything she touched in this apartment?”
“That’s not what—” Ford started.
“It’s no big deal,” I cut him off, “any girl would be flattered. In fact, what kind of wife wouldn’t be thrilled to live in an apartment where she’s constantly reminded of her husband’s ex? I love it.”
“This is how you want to be?” he said. “Come on, then. Let me give you the proper tour.”
Grabbing me by the arm, he pulled me out of the room and down the hall. In the living room, both of us huffing, I was steered over to the bookcase.
“This vase?” Ford spat, pointing to a beautiful, reddish brown piece of pottery with an intricate pattern carved into it. “We got that in Sri Lanka. We spent the day at Polonnaruwa and a group of women were selling things outside the entrance. She said she wanted something to remember the day by, since I first told her I loved her in front of the Parakrama Samudra.”
My stomach was in knots so tight that I felt sick, but I didn’t walk away. Instead, I let him turn me around and push me to the glass-fronted cabinet in the dining room.
Ford flung open the doors, revealing shelves of neatly stacked porcelain dishes with a delicate red pattern visible at the edges.
“That china my mom was talking about? I still have it, right here in the sideboard. Claudia chose the pattern because my grandmother used to have the same one and she wanted to build on tradition together.”
My eyes were stinging, but I refused to let my tears spill over. Ford was hurting me on purpose, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crack.
Next up was the den, where I had to look at the obscenely huge, vaguely erotic painting that I hated so much.
“This painting?” Ford growled. “The one you hate? It’s by an artist Claudia and I once met at a gallery opening that neither of us wanted to be at. We’d fought all day beforehand and the first time we’d spoken in four hours was to agree that we both loved it. It became a symbol of communication for us.”
As we went from