Mia frowned. Ford was acting very strangely tonight.
"I'm fine, thank you for asking. You… you look nice." She told him.
Had he taken extra care with his appearance for a particular reason? The holiday?
"Thank you," Ford stuttered with a smile.
Mia's brow knit together in concentration. Perhaps he was tired from working his farm. He'd labored so hard on making it into a home, into a living, that she wondered at times if he'd forgotten about her entirely.
Although he accepted the help she brought, and often came to dinner, his attention to her had been… polite. Respectful.
Very much so.
It hurt her heart a little, especially with the significant glances her family had been trying not to make during dinner. They obviously thought he still cared for her, but she was beginning to doubt.
Maybe, he thought of her as just a friend, but the secondary pull of her magic was a constant reminder that she never would, never could, think of him as less than the man she wanted.
