The One He's Been Looking For

by Joanna Sims

  It took a while for everyone to say goodbye, but once Danny started to have a meltdown, they wrapped up the visit and went their separate ways. And by the time Jordan and Ian returned to the loft, neither one of them felt like working.

  They sat down on the couch and Ian put his arm around Jordan’s shoulders. She snuggled into the side of his body and sighed.

  “How are you doing? We’ve had a crazy day....”

  “I’m okay. My eyes are tired, but I’m okay,” Ian said as he closed his eyes to rest them.

  “Well...I’m exhausted,” she said with a yawn. “I love them, but they wear me out. I wish they didn’t always have to travel in a pack!”

  “You have a great family.” Ian ran his fingers through her hair. “Your mom’s a hoot.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” Jordan smiled. “Why am I not surprised that you charmed her in five seconds flat? She actually invited you to the ranch!”

  “Yeah—how ’bout that?” Ian chuckled. “Do you think the rest of your family liked me?”

  Jordan leaned back so she could look up at him. “Yeah, I do. My dad called you ‘buddy.’ He only does that with people he likes.”

  “Luke’s a hard one to read.” Ian rubbed his hand over her arm.

  “He changed a lot after he joined the U.S. Marines. Tyler, my middle brother, is super chill. You’ll meet him when you visit the ranch.” Jordan pushed herself up so she could look more directly into Ian’s face. “You know, I’m really sorry that they just barged in the way they did. You’d already had a pretty crappy day and then my whole family shows up unannounced....”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jordan,” Ian said as he pulled her back against his side. “I’d rather meet the in-laws sooner than later.”

  “Your in-laws?” Jordan shifted in his arms. “Is that what you just called them?”

  Ian turned his head toward her and cracked open his eyes. “One day I’m going to marry you, Jordan. Any objection to that?”

  “No.” She draped her leg over his and put her hand on his stomach as she pressed herself more firmly into his body. “No objection at all, GQ.”

  * * *

  Jordan’s schedule during the month following her family’s visit was balls-to-the-walls busy, and it felt as if she hadn’t had enough to time to catch her breath, much less find time to paint. Ian was working like a man possessed, pushing up photo shoots whenever possible and working late into the night. Because he was so pressed for time, Jordan had taken it upon herself to manage his vision-related appointments, including hunting down a low-vision equipment specialist who could offer technology solutions in both the penthouse and the studio. Ian’s new eyeglass prescription was filled and he was also fitted for special protective contact lenses. She had also consulted with a dietician and made contact with the support groups.

  Jordan was proud of everything she had done to help Ian maintain his independence. But with all the time and energy she put into modeling or helping him, she often felt too drained to paint. Her gallery show was three short months away and she was genuinely concerned that she wouldn’t be able to make her deadline. Not only did she feel stressed out about her lack of progress on her paintings, but she was troubled by her relationship with Ian. Over the past couple weeks, the tension between them had been building. They didn’t fight, they didn’t even really disagree and yet it felt as if they had both retreated to their own proverbial corners of a boxing ring, and at any time they could come out swinging.

  Alone in her studio, Jordan stared at the empty canvas in front of her. She had been looking at it, uninspired and frustrated, for nearly an hour. Now that they had finished shooting for the book, she was finally able to focus entirely on her art. But she soon realized that her desire, her drive, to paint had fizzled. She felt exhausted and emotionally drained, and her eroding relationship with Ian was weighing heavily on her mind. There were many nights when he slept on the couch when he returned to the penthouse rather than joining her in his own bed. And there were some nights when he didn’t bother to return to the penthouse at all. Instead, he would sleep at the studio, and would already be working at his computer by the time she arrived with breakfast. And although Ian denied that there was anything “wrong,” and assured her that things between them would get better once he finished working on the book, Jordan wasn’t convinced. Their lovemaking had tapered off and there was a chronic feeling of indifference between them that was becoming impossible for Jordan to ignore.

  After an hour of racking her brain about her next painting, she gave up on inspiration and headed downstairs to find Ian. As was usual, he was sitting in front of his computer, sifting through the hundreds of images he had taken for the book. He had his new reading glasses on and was using the Zoom Text software that had been installed on his computer, allowing him to enlarge the images to a size he was able to see.

  “Hi,” she said as she walked over to where he was working.

  “Hi.” He barely glanced her way when he greeted her. Ian refused to let anything divert him from his work on the book, and Jordan envied his ability to compartmentalize his life.

  “Take a look at this shot,” he said excitedly as he pulled up one of the last photographs he had taken of her on the final shoot on the USS Midway Museum.

  Jordan moved a step closer so she could get a better look at the image. She saw herself lying on her back on top of a Cougar, a vintage navy airplane known for flying photograph reconnaissance missions in the 1950s. Her back was arched to follow the curve of the cockpit of the plane, and her face was turned to the camera.

  Ian zoomed in on her face. “Look at the expression in your eyes. I think this is the best photograph I’ve ever taken of you.”

  Jordan saw the haunted, sad look there and was immediately transported back to that day. She hadn’t been acting—she had been genuinely sad. The night before that photo shoot, she had brought up adoption as a way for them to have a family together, and Ian had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he had no intention of adopting. He had given her an ultimatum: if she wanted to be his wife, she would have to accept the fact that she would never be a mother. It had taken a while for that conversation to sink in fully, but now that it had, Jordan found it difficult to think about anything else.

  She put her palm on his shoulder as she stared at her own image. Ian reached over and gave her hand a placating, platonic pat before he grabbed the mouse again. Stung, Jordan removed her hand from his shoulder and tucked it into her pocket.

  “How’s it going up there?” he asked, seemingly oblivious that she was upset.

  “Not so good.” She sounded fatigued and exasperated, and wondered if Ian noticed anything about her anymore.

  Perhaps it was seeing herself in the photograph looking so depressed and morose, or perhaps it was the dismissive pat that Ian had given her hand, but something in her snapped, like the minuscule straw that finally broke the camel’s back.

  “Ian,” Jordan said wearily. “We have to talk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the first time that day, Ian really looked at her. He swiveled his chair toward her and squinted up at her face through his reading glasses.

  “You sound upset,” he noted cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

  “I am upset,” Jordan said. “And I really think that we need to...clear the air.”

  Ian’s brows drew together in concern as he nodded. “Okay.”

  He followed her over to the U-shaped couch and sat down in his usual spot. She sat across from him on the other side of the couch. It struck her as ironic that they were seated exactly as they had been the day of her first test shoot. It seemed to her that they had come full circle without even realizing it.

  “What’s up?” he asked her. He wasn’t relaxed back in the couch as he normally would be. Instead, he was sitting
upright, and she could tell by the tension around his mouth and jawline that he was bracing himself for something unpleasant.

  “This isn’t working for me,” Jordan said, more bluntly than she had intended.

  Ian’s expression changed from concerned to confused. “What are you talking about?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned forward. Her nerves were making her stomach churn, and it was actually starting to hurt.

  “I’m talking about us, our relationship.” Jordan hugged her arms more tightly around her body. “Things haven’t been right between us for a while now and I just can’t stand it anymore.”

  Ian stared to the right of her shoulder, and she understood that he was looking around his blind spot so he could see her more clearly. It didn’t appear that he was looking at her, but she knew he was.

  After a moment of peering at her, perplexed, as if she had just grown a third head, he rubbed his hands over his face in a familiar sign of frustration.

  “Jesus, Jordan,” he said, exasperated. “You know I’ve been working like a dog to get through these photo shoots. I never misled you about any of this. You knew I wouldn’t have much downtime to spend with you, but I promised that I’d make it up to you once I got the book squared away. We’ve already talked about this. Why do we have to rehash this thing over and over again?”

  “I know you’ve been busy,” she replied in a measured, tense voice. “But being busy and being checked out from this relationship are two entirely different things.”

  “Checked out?” Ian asked. “I’m not checked out, Jordan. I’m focused, on my work, which is what you should be—focused on painting.”

  “You can believe me or not, Ian. But the truth is the truth, and we’ve become...roommates. Half the time you don’t even sleep in bed with me....” She was hurt and it resonated in her voice.

  “Because I don’t want to disturb you. Jesus! Why am I being crucified for being considerate?”

  “Ian. You can stick your head in the sand and ignore the writing on the wall, but I can’t.”

  “What writing on what wall?” His expression had turned stony.

  Jordan felt as if she had been chewing on cotton balls. Her mouth was dry and her words were jammed up in her throat. She knew what she needed to say, but it hurt her to say it. She loved Ian. That hadn’t changed, and she couldn’t imagine a time in her life when it would change.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, with a ripple of anxiety creeping into the baritone timbre of his voice. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Ian...you know things haven’t been right with us....” Jordan said quietly. “Something’s been bothering you for a while now and whenever I ask you what’s wrong, you give me the same answers again and again—I’m tired, I’m working, nothing....”

  He stood up and strode over to the wet bar. He uncorked the Scotch and reached for a glass. Crystal clinked as he overreached and pushed the glasses together. Ian cursed under his breath as he reached a second time for a tumbler.

  “I say that I’m tired and I’m working because I am tired and I am working!”

  “It’s more than that,” she said, as he poured himself a Scotch neat. “You shouldn’t be drinking that,” she added when he brought the tumbler to his lips.

  Ian tipped his head back, downed the Scotch and then slammed the glass on the counter. He turned toward her.

  “That,” he said angrily. “That right there is a big part of the problem.”

  “At least you’re finally admitting that there is a problem,” Jordan said caustically. She knew her tone would spark his temper, but she couldn’t bring herself to regulate it. This was the first sign of emotion she had gotten from him in a while, and his anger would be a vast improvement over his indifference.

  “You’re smothering me,” Ian said tersely as he sat down heavily on the couch. “You micromanage everything—my diet, when I should go to the doctor...my drinking. I want to be your man, Jordan, not your pet project.”

  “I was just trying to help,” she said, stunned. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, Jordan.” Ian tried to soften the blow. “I knew you were trying your best to help me, and I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me....”

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” she muttered under her breath.

  “But...” Ian ignored her comment as he continued, “It’s just too much. I’ve never wanted you to stop painting in order to take care of me. You know that’s true....”

  “I do,” Jordan agreed. He bugged her about painting all the time.

  “Look, Jordan....” He softened his tone. “I understand that part of you has been trying to make up for all of the things you weren’t able to do for your grandfather....”

  When Ian mentioned her grandpa, Jordan felt the tears she had been forcing down try to push their way to the surface.

  “I get that. And I can appreciate it. I really do....” Ian said gently. “But I can’t stand the idea that you’re using helping me as an excuse not to succeed.”

  She swiped at the tears that had slipped out of her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean—” Ian leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs “—that you’ve been spending too much time managing my life when you should’ve been managing your own. Every time I ask you about the show, you tell me that you’d start working on the new paintings once we were done shooting the book. We’re done shooting for the book, Jordan, and you’re still not painting. And the only reason I can come up with is that you’re afraid to succeed.”

  “I’m not afraid to succeed!” she snapped at him. “That’s not the reason I haven’t been painting.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked. “Because I’ve been really worried about you, Jordan.... I feel like you’re going to miss your deadline, and I know this gallery owner. If you don’t deliver when she’s put her ass on the line for you, you may as well just dump your brushes in the trash along with your reputation.”

  “I know,” Jordan said under her breath. She knew Ian was right; he was only putting spoken words to her own private thoughts.

  “So...what’s going on with you, Jordan? If you tell me, maybe I can help you for a change.”

  She stood up, walked over to one of the tall windows and looked down at the activity on the street below. She turned her back to the windows and leaned against the sill.

  She didn’t want to say what she was about to say. She was going to hurt both of them—there was no way around it.

  “Can you come away from the window? I can’t see you.”

  Jordan returned to the couch and perched on the edge. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her body and then said, “I haven’t been able to paint because I’ve been upset about what’s going on with us....”

  Ian took several seconds to process that information before he responded. He sounded genuinely concerned when he said, “That can’t be true.”

  “It is true,” Jordan said. “I can’t block everything out the way you can and just keep on working. If something’s bothering me, it impacts everything about me, including my painting.”

  He dropped his head into his hands as he thought. When he lifted it again, he said, “Now I understand why you didn’t want us to get involved. If you’re distracted, you can’t work.”

  She nodded imperceptibly. “Yes.”

  “I would never want our relationship to stand in your way, Jordan,” Ian said. “From my perspective, I didn’t think things were all that bad between us. But, okay...now that I do know, what can I do to help you get back on track so you can meet your deadline?”

  Jordan hesitated before she answered. “I think I need to find another place to paint.”

  He sat forward. “Wait a minute.... Did y
ou just say that you think you need to find another place to paint? As in you want to move out of here?”

  “I think that’s what’s best for me,” Jordan said, as she swallowed back the acid that had raced up her throat.

  The muscles in Ian’s jaw worked. “Now, look, Jordan—you wanted to get my attention, so you’ve got it. Okay? I get that you want more of my time, and I’ll work on that—I give you my word. You don’t have to move out to make a point.”

  “I wasn’t trying to make a point,” she said. “I’m trying to tell you what I need to do so I can meet my deadline.”

  “You think that getting away from me is going to help you paint?” Ian asked accusingly. “Jesus, Jordan...how long have you been thinking about this?”

  “For a while....” It wasn’t cold in the loft, but she felt chilled all over her body.

  “And you didn’t bother to bring it up until now?” he asked incredulously.

  “I wanted to wait until we were done shooting for the book,” she explained.

  “This isn’t the kind of thing you hold back, Jordan! This is the kind of thing that you bring up before we get past the point of no return!” Ian’s face had turned ashen beneath his tan. “Is that what you’re saying here? That we’re past the point of no return? Because when someone starts to talk about moving out, that’s just code for breaking up. I asked you once before—are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked on the answer.

  The room became very still, as if the oxygen had been sucked right out of the space.

  Ian was so still for so long that Jordan jumped when he suddenly stood up and marched back over to the wet bar to pour himself another drink. With his back toward her, he swallowed the liquid down. He splayed his hands out on the marble and leaned against his arms, head lowered.

  “There has to be more to this,” he said under his breath. “This doesn’t make sense.” He turned around. “Are you involved with someone else?”

  “You know better than that.”