“Most likely.”
“And if that happens, then it would end up costing even more money in the end?”
“Sure. It’s a definite possibility.”
“Then do whatever is most likely to make her better.” Making sure she was better, or even simply comfortable, was the only thing he cared about.
“She knew you were going to say that.”
“Well, she could have called me herself, and I would have told her that. I’m sorry to make you call to deliver the same answer she already knew.”
“She said she’d tried to call but hadn’t been able to get ahold of you . . .” A sickening gut punch hit Ford deep in the stomach.
“Can I talk to her now?” To assuage some of his guilt.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Matthews, but that won’t be possible. Your mother is very weak, and the treatments take a lot out of her. I’m surprised she was even awake when she tried calling last Friday, but she said it’s the highlight of her week. The only thing she has to look forward to.”
The phone dropped a half inch from his ear as he clutched it to keep from crying. The only thing she had to look forward to and he’d gone and forgotten after deciding instead to stay late at the dig site. He wasn’t a terrible son. He was a shitty son.
“Well, can you tell her I love her?” he managed to choke out. Barely.
“Of course, Dr. Matthews. And she asked me to tell you the same. I’ll follow up later this week with any updates. Take care, now.”
The minute he hung up the phone, Ford crumpled onto his bed. What was he doing here? He didn’t need to risk everything on this dig. There were other ways he could get the money. Pick up some additional lectures. Maybe that speaker series at the museum they’d been asking him to do. Sure, those things didn’t pay much, but at least he’d be there with her and she wouldn’t be alone. He could visit her in person, giving her something more than a thirty-minute phone call each week to look forward to.
Hell, he could pick up gambling. Though, with the way his luck had been going the last couple of years, that perhaps wasn’t the best option.
So why was he really here, given that there were other options? Was he here to get money, or was he here for his pride? Here because he wanted to be the archaeologist who’d discovered Chimalli? Here because even after eight years, and without even realizing it, he was still trying to compete with Corrie? Because he wanted to beat her. Pierre Vautour had wanted her. Yet Ford had waltzed right up to Vautour and boasted about his ability to succeed on this dig. So his being here, well, it was all his own damn idea, and now, as a result, he was missing valuable time with his mother. Time he’d never get back.
Add shitty person to the list of Ford’s attributes.
He could tell himself all he wanted was the money—for his mom—but was that the truth or something he’d convinced himself of so he wouldn’t look like such an asshole?
“Hey,” a sweet, sexy voice called from the door of his tent.
Ford didn’t need to look to know who it was. “Now’s not a good time, Corrie,” he said, turning away and removing his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“Hey, are you okay?” Not heeding his warning, she entered the tent and sat beside Ford. Typical Corrie, not listening to him.
“Please, Corrie . . . please go away, okay?”
“No, Ford, I’m not going to leave you like this. What happened? Is it your mom? Is everything okay?”
He couldn’t even pretend not to be crying anymore. His body buckled under its own weight and he shifted on the bed to put distance between the two of them. But she wouldn’t let him go far. She scooted closer to him, placing her hands on his back and pressing her head to his shoulder.
“Ford, please . . . please talk to me. You’re worrying me.”
“Why won’t you just leave me?” he asked.
“Because I care about you, Ford.”
“You wouldn’t care about me if you really knew me.”
“I do know you.”
“No, you don’t. You only know what I choose to tell you. And I’m telling you right now, I’m a horrible person,” he said.
“You’re not a horrible person,” she said, rushing to the other side to face him. “And you haven’t always been a shiny, picture-perfect person around me, and I still like you. You have flaws, Ford. We all do. Now, please tell me what happened, because I’m sitting here imagining the worst.”
She was thinking that his mother had died, but there was no way she was thinking the worst about him. That he’d betrayed her—again. And as much as he liked to think it had been an inadvertent betrayal, now he wasn’t so sure.
“I missed her call last Friday,” he finally said. “Missed it and honestly didn’t even remember until well after the fact.” He didn’t care that his tears were on full display. There was no holding them back. She needed to see the person he was.
“I’m sure she’ll understand.” Corrie took his hands from his lap. “But she’s okay?”
“She’s alive, yes, but she’s not okay. They need to start a new treatment, a treatment that isn’t covered by insurance and that I can barely afford, and she was more concerned about me having to spend all my money than she was about getting better. Yet I couldn’t even be bothered to take her call.”
“Ford, it was an accident.”
“No . . . I shouldn’t be here. I should be there with her, helping her through this.”
“Well, can you go for a few days to see her and then come back here?”
“But we’re so close and . . .” he stopped himself. “And this is what I mean. I’m more concerned with this glorified treasure hunt than I am my mother. I told you. I’m a horrible person.”
“That doesn’t make you a horrible person, and just because you want to be here, too, doesn’t mean you love her any less. You’re being too hard on yourself.”
She didn’t even know the half of it.
“God, this is embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m crying in front of you . . . again.”
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You love and miss your mom. I’d be more turned off if you weren’t upset by this situation.”
Turned off? Did that mean she was turned on? Because despite all the waiting and the anticipation, sex was the last thing on Ford’s mind.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she answered for him, clearly reading his thoughts, “Not in a sexual way, I mean.” The worry must have read all over his face. “I meant that I’d be turned off by you as a person if you didn’t have a heart like that.”
“I’m sorry . . . I know we’d sort of planned to . . . you know . . .” God, why couldn’t he talk about sex like an adult? And sort of planned? Didn’t he mean they’d counted down the days and the hours until the supply drop occurred so they could inevitably bone?
The warmth of her hand over his, however, calmed the nerves.
“Ford, I totally get it. It’s not the right time.”
“It doesn’t feel right, you know? Not right now.”