was getting close to dinner time, and the snacks we’d had on the plane hardly counted as lunch, in my book.
“Should we eat soon?” I asked.
“Don’t you worry,” Ford said, wrapping his arm around me. “Everything’s under control. Speaking of which, we’d better head back to the car.”
As if our trip to Niagara Falls wasn’t romantic enough, Ford told me he’d made us a reservation for dinner at sunset at the Skylon tower, which had a slowly rotating dining room offering 360-degree views, perched almost a thousand feet off the ground. Sitting at our table, it really felt like we were floating directly above the falls. Thrilling and terrifying and wonderful all at once. Ford seemed amused by my inability to tear my gaze from the wall of windows and the spectacular bird’s-eye view.
“Should I order for us?” he teased, refilling my wineglass. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you straight up ignore a restaurant menu.”
“Ha ha,” I shot back. “But seriously, this is just gorgeous. Thank you, Ford.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t make the falls,” he said with a smile.
“I mean it,” I said, turning to look at him. “Thank you for this whole day.”
Before I could say more, our waitress reappeared and—just as promised—Ford ordered for both of us. And he ordered half the menu, it seemed. Seared scallops over spinach, lobster tails with lemon garlic butter, steak, vegetable sides, crème brûlée and amaretto torte for dessert.
“You’re a monster,” I told him afterward. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to eat all of that.”
“You should at least taste it all,” he said. “I want you to have everything good.”
“Do you?” I asked, raising a brow.
“I do.”
He took my hands across the table, and I searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. His words seemed like they carried more weight than a casual dinner conversation would imply. Then the waitress came back to drop off a basket of hot bread and a plate of olive oil and herbs.
“Bet you’re glad you brought your camera,” Ford said as we tore the bread apart.
Nodding, I passed it over to him so he could click through some of the digital photos.
Laughing, he tilted the tiny screen toward me. “This one’s great.”
It was. A small Vietnamese boy, not more than four years old I’d guess, was chasing a flapping pigeon that had a French fry hanging from its mouth. I’d gotten that shot purely by luck.
But more than the camera, I realized, I was glad that I had Ford with me.
What was happening between us? It felt like more than friendship. More than sex. I wondered if I could trust it, trust him—if I could believe in us. One day didn’t erase all the problems we’d had, the years of his manipulations and our unbalanced power dynamic. And who could say that Claudia wouldn’t be back with her finger crooked at him?
Could I picture Ford truly standing up to his parents and declaring his love for me? Fighting to keep me, to keep our marriage intact? Honestly, no. I couldn’t.
At the same time, I couldn’t have pictured the sex we’d had last night either. The hand holding, the eye contact. Yet it had happened. Today had happened. Ford’s hands had been on me ever since we woke up this morning, and his affection and warmth had continued all the way up until now. Our relationship had been such a roller-coaster ride, but one thing that seemed consistent was the way it was constantly shifting, deepening, strengthening. Through thick and thin, for better or worse, we were growing closer by the day. It was undeniable.
Still, I couldn’t just abandon reality and jump wholeheartedly into the fantasy version of our marriage. The fact was, I had an agreement with the Malones to divorce Ford in less than a year. And that was after Ford had drawn up a contract with me that essentially said the same thing, though for very different reasons. This…thing between us, whatever it was, and no matter how nice it felt in the moment, was too good to be true in the long run. It wasn’t meant to last.
But for today, I could pretend. Let myself forget the act, have one perfect vacation day, a second honeymoon—one where I could believe we were embarking on a fresh new beginning, rather than stealing a few quiet moments that would eventually have to end.
I was so entranced by the view of the sunset (and my tangled web