Suddenly One Summer (FBI/US Attorney #6)(65)
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair, immediately feeling the need to clarify something. “Look, before you get all jazzed up about this, and start writing in your little notepad, you should know that nothing will ever happen between Ford and me. And that would be the case even if I didn’t have my alleged ‘intimacy issues.’”
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Metzel asked.
“Because the guy is as messed up as I am.” She half-chuckled at the truth of that. “I don’t know the whole story—actually, I don’t even know one-tenth of the story—but I do know that his father was an alcoholic who died only about a month ago and there are definitely some unresolved issues there. And besides, he told me he doesn’t do commitment.” She gestured emphatically. “Does that sound like someone I should be pursuing a relationship with? I don’t think so.”
Dr. Metzel studied her thoughtfully. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you describe yourself as ‘messed up.’ Granted, I don’t like that term, but I find it interesting that your relationship with Ford has enabled you to be more comfortable acknowledging your own intimacy issues. Perhaps that’s something we should explore in more detail.”
Yep.
That’s what she got for opening the damn door.
Twenty-four
THAT AFTERNOON, CHARLIE and Tucker came over to help Ford set up for his barbecue. The annual—and semi-legendary—party, which he hosted every July, reminded him of the summer barbecues his parents used to have in their townhome, when they would clear out the garage, and family and friends would mingle indoors and outdoors, sitting on lawn chairs along the driveway and in the small front yard while the kids played kickball and ghost in the graveyard in the subdivision’s adjacent field.
Maybe it was the nice weather, or the company, but for whatever reason, his father had always been on his best behavior during those times.
This year, more than ever, Ford liked being reminded of good moments like that.
The three of them were moving his folding tables and chairs out of the storage room when his mother called his cell phone.
“I’m downstairs,” she said. Having been in the city to visit Nicole and Zoe, she’d called earlier to see if she could drop off another box with his father’s things—some photo albums he’d saved of Ford’s grandparents and great-grandparents, and a huge stack of old baseball cards.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” he asked.
“Hey, Mrs. Dixon,” Charlie and Tucker called out.
“I’m sure. Tell Charlie and Tucker I said hello,” she said, having gotten to know them well in the sixteen years since they’d been Ford’s college dorm mates.
He ran down to meet his mom in front of the building, where she was waiting with her car temporarily parked with the hazard lights on.
“Your dad was such a pack rat. But maybe those baseball cards are worth something. I don’t know.” She gave him a quick smile to cover the flash of sadness in her eyes, and handed over the box of his father’s things to him.
“You don’t need to go through all his stuff yourself, Mom. I’m happy to come to the house again and help.”
She waved this off, only about the tenth time he’d offered. “I want to do it. It gives me something to do.”
Of course that was her answer. Between her job as a teacher’s aide, the second job she’d worked on evenings and weekends at Walmart for extra money after his father had injured his hand and gone on disability, and raising him and Nicole, his mother had spent the last thirty-plus years having more than enough “to do.” But she liked it that way, he’d long since realized. Once his mom rolled up her sleeves and set her mind to a task, pretty much the only thing anyone else could do was get out of the way.
“Just promise me you won’t try to move anything heavy. Save that for me.”
She gave him a semi-offended look—at five foot ten, she was hardly a petite waif of a woman—but didn’t argue. “Nicole seemed better today. Less overwhelmed.”
Nicole had told their mother the truth about Zoe’s father, and, at her doctor’s suggestion, also had joined a new-moms support group. “I think so, too. The other day, she said that—” Ford stopped mid-sentence, spotting Victoria walking along the sidewalk in their direction, carrying two bags of groceries.
So, this was . . . unexpected. It had been years since his mom had met a woman he was involved with—and, admittedly, he hadn’t been thinking he would break that habit today.
One of the inherent risks of dating a neighbor, he supposed.
Victoria saw him a moment later, and her expression immediately turned hesitant when she saw the woman standing next to him. “Hey there,” she said, with a tentative smile as she approached.
“Hey yourself.” Ford nodded at the bags she carried. “Need a hand?”
“I’m okay.” With a grin, Victoria nodded at the large box he held. “Do you need a hand?”
He chuckled. “Thanks, I think I’m good.” He saw his mother looking at him expectantly and made the introductions. “This is my mother, Maria. Mom, this is Victoria, my neighbor and—”
“The divorce lawyer. Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally put a face with the name,” his mom gushed, pulling Victoria in for a warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ford and Nicole.”