It Was Nothing

He could give her the world. All she wants is his last name.

Ford

Two Grammys, sold-out arenas, and more money than I know what to do with. It’s everything I dreamed of.

Well…almost.

No matter how many times I propose, my best friend keeps shooting me down. After her latest ’no,’ I finally get the message.

Then Peyton shows up in tears, looking at me like I'm her only hope—before slowly sinking to one knee herself.

Peyton

Do I love Ford as a friend? Yes. As something more?

It’s irrelevant.

What I want stopped mattering the day I saw two pink lines staring back at me.

When my ex sues for custody, and I lose my house and my job in the same week, the judge is clear: thirty days to get my life together—or lose my son too.

Now I have to convince my perpetually-proposing best friend to fake a marriage and pretend he's okay with 'I do' meaning 'I don’t.’

Because if Ford finds out the secret I’ve been keeping, it wouldn't just make him run—it would erase every 'I love you' he's ever meant.

You’re my best friend. Even when you’re an old hag, I’ll still love you. I’ll let myself get fat. Grow a hideous beard. Blacken some teeth. We’ll ‘old hag’ together.* Are you kidding me right now? This isn’t a prayer. It’s one of your dumb hit singles. * I’m pretty sure your song has magical powers. Because I think…I just fell in love with you...and I don’t even like country music. * It was nothing. * Ford was safety. The shield in dodgeball that kept you from getting hit. Home base in a game of hide-and-seek. * Would he ditch me the minute he got back to Nashville? * It’s beating for you, Peyton. Beating for right now because you’re sitting in my lap. Beating for the next time I’m going to see you. Whenever that is. * My best friend, who was usually full of confidence, was currently completely unnerved at the thought of sleeping next to shirtless me. Interesting.*

You’re my best friend. Even when you’re an old hag, I’ll still love you. I’ll let myself get fat. Grow a hideous beard. Blacken some teeth. We’ll ‘old hag’ together.* Are you kidding me right now? This isn’t a prayer. It’s one of your dumb hit singles. * I’m pretty sure your song has magical powers. Because I think…I just fell in love with you...and I don’t even like country music. * It was nothing. * Ford was safety. The shield in dodgeball that kept you from getting hit. Home base in a game of hide-and-seek. * Would he ditch me the minute he got back to Nashville? * It’s beating for you, Peyton. Beating for right now because you’re sitting in my lap. Beating for the next time I’m going to see you. Whenever that is. * My best friend, who was usually full of confidence, was currently completely unnerved at the thought of sleeping next to shirtless me. Interesting.*

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Thanks for stopping by. I’m Susan and I’m a sucker for any story if love’s involved. When I’m not writing, you can find me trying to get my adult children to text back, my teenage daughter to eat something not coated in chocolate, or cowgirling on my family’s farm in rural Virginia (pictured below).

(This was taken by my brother, Neal. Look how the mist curls. It’s my favorite. I wish you could see the fireflies or hear the bullfrogs in the river bottom. So dreamy.)

I do!

I live on a farm in Middle-of-Nowhere, Virginia, where everything is a drive. So, I’m pretty much in the car, radio blaring, singing my heart out, daily. And I’ve certainly enjoyed compiling and listening to these playlists as I wrote One Last Thing, Not A Thing, and All to Pieces.

I hope you’ll enjoy them too and find them a welcome addition to your reading experience.

*If I can ever stop writing long enough, I’ll make a list to show which chapters go with which songs.