He raised an eyebrow. “Are we . . . having a party?”
She nodded in the direction of Victoria’s place. “Background noise.” She set his phone down. “Free skybox tickets to today’s Cubs/Sox game and you’ll pass? There isn’t a man in Chicago who would turn that down.”
“With you and Cade, Vaughn and Sidney, and Huxley and Addison? No, thanks—it’s all couples.” And while normally he would jump at the chance to watch the Crosstown Classic from one of Wrigley Field’s luxury suites, today he wasn’t in the mood to be the odd man out with a bunch of happily married or engaged twosomes.
“Fine. I’ll invite Charlie and Tucker, too,” she said.
“They might as well be a couple,” he said dryly.
She looked at him for a moment, and then pointed. “You told me men don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
She walked around the counter, speaking animatedly. “Two years ago. We were at Firelight, having drinks. Cade and I had split up and you said that men don’t mope around after a breakup. You said that men avoid issues, get drunk, and pick up a new girl to forget the old one—but that you don’t brood.”
Ford held out his hands in disbelief. “How do you remember that? And I’m not brooding.”
She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him.
“I know you’re my friend,” he said. “But please, for once, can you just act like you have a penis? Because I don’t want to talk about this.”
She shrugged. “Fine. We’ll just sit here and listen to music.” She reached for his phone again. “Have you heard Taylor Swift’s new song?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re going to—on endless repeat until you start talking.”
Kill him now. “Fine. It’s over with Victoria. What else do you want me to say?” Despite his frustration, he was careful to keep his voice low. “She ended things two weeks ago, and yesterday she came home in the afternoon wearing the same clothes she’d had on the night before. Life moves on, I guess.” He threw up his hands. “There—is that enough of a heart-to-heart?”
“The same clothes?” Brooke looked surprised. “So, you think—”
He cut her off. “Actually, I’d rather not think about that. At all.”
“But . . . you two were getting along great the last time I saw you. What am I missing here?”
Ford sighed. Sensing that there was no way of getting around having this talk, he took a seat on one of the barstools and pulled out the other one for Brooke. After she sat down, he filled her in on everything—except for the stuff Victoria had told him about her mother’s suicide and her trust and abandonment issues. That seemed too personal for him to share with anyone else.
“So, Victoria saw you with another woman, and then, as far as you know, she didn’t come back to her place until the following afternoon.” Brooke looked at him. “Did you ever think that maybe she didn’t want to think about you being with someone else? So maybe she went to stay at a friend’s or something.”
As a matter of fact, he had considered that—more times than he wanted to admit. And the thought of Victoria being jealous and actually caring that much about him being with another woman gave him another one of those stupid flashes of hope.
Which he instantly quelled.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”
Brooke grinned, as if that settled that. “I think you need to find out if it’s more than a possibility.”
“No.”
She cocked her head, speaking more definitively. “Yes, you do. You have to talk to her, Ford.”
He pushed away from the counter and stood up, not wanting to hear this. “No, I don’t.”
Brooke stared at him like he was crazy. “Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t make a difference!” he shouted. When she blinked in surprise, he turned away, furious that she’d pushed him into this conversation. “Dammit, Brooke.”
He walked over to the window and ran a hand over his jaw. After taking a moment, he turned around. “Even if it’s all true—even if Victoria didn’t sleep with someone else, and she left for the night because she didn’t want to see me with another woman—it wouldn’t matter. I can’t . . . be with someone who won’t let me in.” His humorless smile was wry. “And, yes, I know that’s ironic, coming from me. But if I ever were to go down this road, and let myself fall for someone, it can’t be halfway. I have to know that she’s in, too. I can’t spend my life waiting and hoping for the next good moment, giving everything and loving someone who pushes me away and can’t love me the same way back. I won’t let anyone mess with my head again like that.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”
Brooke’s expression softened. She stood up and joined him by the window. “No. And you shouldn’t have to.”
She put her arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a long moment.
“Sorry I made you talk about feelings,” she finally said.
He kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of a jerk that way.”
“I could always go next door and kick her ass,” she offered.
“Babe, you’re, like, five-two.”
“Not in heels.” She nudged him. “Come on. Come to the game with us. It’ll be fun. You know you love it when they bring the dessert cart around.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Besides, if he didn’t say yes, Brooke would probably stage a damn intervention and then he’d just have to talk more about feelings. “All right. If Charlie and Tucker can make it, count me in.”
Brooke did a little clap. “Yay.”
“I said if Charlie and Tucker can make it.”
She gave him a look. “What are the odds that Charlie and Tucker have something better to do today?”
Fair enough.
* * *
MID-MORNING ON MONDAY, Nicole called Victoria’s office to check in after her meeting with Peter Sutter. Per Victoria’s arrangements, the two of them had met at a coffee shop close to Nicole’s work, so they could reconnect and smooth over some of the “Hey, we had a baby together!” awkwardness.