by Joanna Sims
“Then what?” He sliced his hand through the air. “What is so terrible about our relationship, Jordan?”
“I didn’t say that our relationship was terrible....”
“You’re right.” Ian raised his voice. “Because you haven’t really said anything at all except you can’t paint around me! Tell me something that makes sense here, Jordan. I may be going blind, but I can hear just fine! Why are you walking out on me?”
“Because we don’t want the same things out of life, Ian.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Children.” Jordan said the word, but it came out muddled. She cleared her throat and repeated, “Children.”
He shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Dammit...not this again. We already settled this!”
“Just because you decided the subject was closed, Ian, doesn’t mean that it was settled.” Jordan stood up and walked over to the kitchen island and positioned herself to his right side. “It wasn’t settled—not for me.”
“You knew—” Ian punched one hand into the other “—that I wasn’t going to have children. If it was such a big problem for you, you should’ve walked away a long time ago! Why drag us through all of this if you knew you were just going to leave in the end?”
“I accept the fact that you don’t want to have biological children, Ian. I do. But you want me to accept that if I marry you I’ll never be a mom...that I’ll never have a family. And I can’t accept that. I’ve wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. Like painting...like loving you...being a mom is something I feel like I was born to do.”
“You’d rather be a mom than my wife....” Ian said bitterly.
Jordan crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t see why I have to choose. There are so many children who need a good home. Nothing is stopping us from adopting.”
“I’ve already told you, Jordan....” Ian bit out the words. “I’m not going to saddle some poor kid with a blind father. I’m not going to take on the responsibility of another human being when I can’t even guarantee that I’ll be able to take care of myself! Why can’t you understand that?”
“I do understand,” Jordan said sadly. “I just don’t agree with it.”
Ian’s body language mirrored hers, with his arms crossed protectively in front of him. “I’m not going to change my mind about this, Jordan.”
More tears slipped onto her cheeks. “I know, Ian. Neither am I.”
His eyes were glassy with emotion. “So...that’s it? You’re leaving me....”
Jordan fumbled with her keys as she pulled them out of her pocket. She had to leave now. She couldn’t look at Ian for one more second; she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from reaching out to him if she didn’t leave now.
Ian, who had been standing stock-still, jumped into action when he heard her keys rattle together. He followed her to the door. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” She wanted her bed. Her pillows. Her comforter. Hibernation was the only reasonable next step for her.
“Why?” he asked.
Jordan paused at the door, heard the exhaustion in her voice as she said, “I have a lot to do, Ian. I need to find a new place to paint, like, yesterday. And if it’s okay with you, I’ll get my stuff out of the penthouse tomorrow while you’re here.”
“Jordan.” He reached out for her hand and missed. “Wait a minute. What the hell just happened here? I don’t want us to break up. I love you.”
She slipped her fingers into his searching hand. “I love you, too, Ian. But that doesn’t mean we should spend the rest of our lives together. It’s better for both of us that we figured this out now, because when push comes to shove, Ian, we just don’t want the same things.”
She turned the knob to open the door and tried to slip her hand out of his. But Ian tightened his grip on her fingers and pulled her into his arms. Jordan didn’t resist. As his lips covered hers, as his strong arms encircled her body, she kissed him with all the desperation and sadness of a woman who was saying goodbye to the man she loved. Ian’s body was shaking as his strong arms held her tightly against him. After several poignant last minutes in his arms, she stepped away from him. She opened the door and walked into the reception area.
“This isn’t what I wanted....” Ian said from the open doorway.
“I know.” Jordan pressed her forehead on the exterior door as her hand gripped the doorknob. “Neither did I.”
“When will I see you again?” His voice was strained.
“You won’t,” she said as her brain ordered her fingers to turn the knob. “It would just be too...painful. For both of us. We need to give each other a chance to move on.”
Ian stood frozen in the doorway, stunned, as if someone had just punched him in the gut. He strained to focus in on Jordan as she paused in the open doorway.
“Take care of yourself, Ian,” she said as she forced herself to turn the knob, walk through the door and out of his life.
“Don’t go, Jordan,” Ian said, but then he realized he was talking to himself. She was already gone.
* * *
“I can’t believe you’re moving out, Jordy. Why can’t you just ignore Ian’s ginormous building that you can see from every conceivable angle of our condo, and just stay?”
Jordan finished taping up her last box before she walked over and gave her roommate a hug. “I can’t do it anymore, Amaya. It’s just...too much.”
“I know.” Amaya’s shoulders slumped. “I wish he would move. Jerk!”
“He’s not a jerk, Amaya. It just didn’t work out between us, that’s all,” Jordan said as she looked up at Ian’s building. “And in a way I have him to thank for my show. If he hadn’t pulled some strings to get me that loft space down the street, I don’t know how I would’ve met the deadline.”
“You have yourself to thank,” her friend said sourly. “You’re way too forgiving, Jordy. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Talking about him is a major buzz kill.”
Jordan knew that there was no sense defending Ian. Amaya was her friend and staunchly loyal, and all she knew was that Ian had broken her heart. And he had. Even though she had been the one to break things off, Jordan still loved him. And from the very beginning of their breakup Ian had reached out to her. He had emailed and texted and called. But he never said anything new. He never said anything different. He had called her for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but when he didn’t contact her for New Year’s, Jordan finally gave up hope that he would change his mind about having a family.
“So what are you going to wear to Altitude tonight for the big Valentine’s bash?” Jordan asked to change the subject.
Amaya’s face brightened as she opened the sliding glass door and lit a cigarette. “I found the cutest, raciest little dress! Wait till you get a load of it. I’m so glad that you’re coming. You’ve been like a hermit, all cooped up in here. It’s been super depressing to watch.”
“Gee, thanks.” Jordan smiled as she labeled the last box with an indelible marker.
“Don’t you flake out on me, Jordy!” Amaya pointed her cigarette at her. “I swear I’ll find someone to make out with you tonight. And if I don’t, I’ll plant a big wet one on you myself!”
“You don’t have to go that far.” Jordan laughed. Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket.
“Hey, Matthew. What’s up?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. She put her hand on the refrigerator handle, but paused while she listened to one of the representatives at the gallery. “Oh. Well...that’s good news. Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
Jordan slipped the phone back into her pocket, got a glass of water and then sat down at the dining table.
“What’s wrong with you?” Amaya asked as she stubbed out her cigarette. “You look nauseous.”
>
“Another one of my paintings just sold at the gallery.”
Her friend stepped inside and closed the sliding glass door. “That’s great news, right?”
“Sure.”
Amaya joined her at the table. After sitting down, she put her foot up on the chair and rested her arm on her bent knee. “So then why don’t you look like it’s good news?”
Jordan shrugged. “It was one of my favorites.”
Curaçao Sunrise, the painting that had just sold, was the only one she had painted of Ian. The piece depicted him running on the beach with the sun rising behind him, and she had vacillated for weeks before she had decided to put a price tag on it and include it in the show. And now that it had been sold, she regretted her decision.
Amaya stared at her suspiciously. “No! Don’t you start moping again, Jordy! I forbid it! Come on.” She dropped her foot to the floor and bounced out of her chair. “Let’s get ready. I feel like getting drunk and dancing until I pass out.”
“Do you always have to be such an extremist, Amaya?” Jordan shook her head at her friend.
“Yes, I do,” she replied as she went down the spiral staircase. “And shave your legs and pits! You never know, you might just get laid tonight.”
“Zero chance of that,” Jordan said under her breath as she walked into the kitchen.
She had put her empty glass in the sink and was heading toward the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. She could hear that Amaya was in the shower.
“I’ll get it!” she called out.
Jordan peeked through the peephole and saw a man in a brown uniform holding a giant bouquet of long-stemmed roses. Surprised, she opened the door.
“Ms. Jordan Brand?”
“That’s me.”
“I have a delivery for you, ma’am.” The man held out his electronic pad for her to sign.
Jordan quickly scrawled her name and then accepted the heavy flower arrangement. “Thank you,” she said, before she smelled the fragrance of one of the roses closest to her nose.
“Have a nice day.”
Jordan shut the door and carried the bouquet to her room. She set them on her nightstand and then excitedly looked for a card. She spun the leaded crystal vase around and discovered that there was a sunflower, her favorite flower, tucked in front of the roses. Attached to it was a small envelope. Jordan touched the sunflower lightly before she detached the envelope and pulled out the card inside. She sat down on the bed and read the message.
Beautiful Jordan,
The roses are for Valentine’s Day. The sunflower is so you know that I was listening....
Love always,
Ian
“Who are those from?” Amaya stood in the doorway, wrapped in a towel and dripping water onto the carpet.
“Ian,” Jordan said, as she reread the card for the fourth time.
“Well, I’ll say this for him. He certainly knows how to kiss up successfully.” Amaya walked over to the flowers and smelled them. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I have no idea,” she said pensively. “I think there may be too much water under that bridge.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ian walked into the living room wearing his best black tuxedo. “How do I look?”
“Good.” Dylan nodded.
“Is my bow tie straight?” Ian fidgeted nervously with his tie.
“It’s fine,” Dylan assured him. “Relax. Everything’s going to work out. When she gets those flowers, she’s gonna call.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ian smoothed his hands over his jacket. “I don’t want to get stuck with you as my Valentine.”
“I think she’ll call,” his friend said. “I’d rather not be your runner-up.”
“Did the painting arrive?”
“Yep.” Dylan relaxed back into his chair. “They delivered it while you were getting ready, and I had them hang it in the entryway. It’s framed, it’s done, downlighting and all. Jordan will see it the minute she walks through the door.”
“If...” Ian tugged on the cuffs of his crisp white shirt once more. “If she walks through the door.”
“She’ll come,” Dylan said again. “Do you have the ring?”
Ian pulled a small black box out of his pocket. “Right here.”
After watching him pace around the penthouse like a caged tiger, Dylan said, “Will you sit down, man? You’re making me nervous.”
Ian sank down in one of the living room chairs and tapped his foot nervously on the marble floor. He had planned a very special Valentine’s date for Jordan, but knew that all his careful plans could be for naught. It was a long shot, a Hail Mary pass, to imagine that she would actually accept his unconventional invitation. But before he could extend that invitation, she needed to receive the flowers, and then take the step to call or text to say thank-you. If she received the flowers and didn’t contact him, then he would know, without any doubt, that she was lost to him forever.
“Did you check on the chef? Is everything set in the kitchen?” Ian asked. He was having his private chef cook all Jordan’s favorite foods.
“It’s all good.”
“What about the table on the terrace? Did you see candles? I definitely want there to be candles.”
“Ian—everything’s perfect. Jordan’s going to be blown away, swept off her feet, I promise you.” Dylan looked at the time on his phone. “After tonight, you and she are going to be copacetic.”
Just as Ian was about to answer, his phone whistled to signal that an email had just arrived. He dug the device out of his pocket and brought it close to his face. He strained to read the message.
“Dammit! Look at this, Dylan, and tell me if it’s from the florist.”
Dylan looked at the email. “The flowers were delivered.”
“All right.” Ian held out his hand for his phone. “Now we wait.”
Dylan silently prayed for Jordan to pick up the phone and call his friend. He knew just how much Ian had riding on this plan panning out. And Dylan, almost as much as Ian, wanted this to work. It had been really tough to watch his best friend lose his eyesight and the love of his life at the same time. He had helped Ian plan and execute this surprise Valentine’s date, but ultimately, it was all in Jordan’s hands. And Dylan prayed that she still loved Ian enough to give him one more chance to make things right between them.
“It’s been a while now, right?” Ian asked.
“No. It’s been, like, five minutes. Give her a minute to work through it. Remember, those flowers came out of left field.”
“You’re right.” Ian nodded as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.
Inside his head, Ian was pleading with Jordan to pick up the phone and call. He had missed her in a way he hadn’t even known was humanly possible. Missing Jordan had been a chronic soreness in his muscles and an ache in his bones. He had lost a friend, his closest ally, when he had lost her, and he was determined to do whatever he had to do to get her back. He just hoped that it wasn’t too little too late. But when thirty minutes passed after he’d received the delivery notification, he started to lose hope.
Maybe she didn’t love him anymore. Maybe she was already involved with someone else. Maybe—
“Ian!” Dylan’s loud voice interrupted his pessimistic ruminations.
“What?”
“Your phone’s ringing!”
“Dammit.” He fished for his phone, which had fallen between his leg and the chair arm. It rang three times before he was finally able to retrieve it and push the button to answer.
“Hello?” He hadn’t been able to see the name attached to the incoming call. “Hello?” It could be Jordan or it could be someone else.
“Ian?” He heard the sweet sound of her voice an
d dropped his head back, smiled broadly and punched the air above his head with his fist.
“Jordan,” he said, as Dylan clasped his hand in a brotherly, congratulatory handshake. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before she said, “It’s good to hear your voice, too, Ian.”
Not really knowing what else to say, he asked, “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” she said quietly. “How are you?”
“I miss you,” Ian said honestly. He couldn’t hold anything back, not now. Not tonight.
“I got the flowers, Ian. They’re beautiful.” There was a raw, vulnerable quality in Jordan’s voice that struck a chord in his heart, gave him hope. Jordan still cared for him.
“I’m glad you like them.” He tried to steady the quaver in his voice. He was so nervous and excited to be talking to her that his heart was beating wildly in his chest.
“I do,” Jordan said softly. “I do like them. But...why did you send them?”
“Because I was hoping that you would want to give me a call to thank me.”
“Thank you,” she said, and this time he actually heard a smile in her voice. She had called and he had made her smile—that was half the battle won right there. But he didn’t want to get cocky. Jordan always had to be handled with care. When he forgot that, he lost her. If he won her back, he wouldn’t ever make that mistake again.
After a lull in the conversation, Jordan started to say, “Well...I’d better—”
“Jordan.” Ian interrupted her so she wouldn’t get off the phone. “It’s Valentine’s Day, as you know, and I’d like to ask you out...on a date.”
She didn’t answer, so Ian started to talk fast. “I know I’m springing all of this on you and that you might already have plans, but if you’re free, or if you have plans that you can change, I would be very honored if you would join me tonight at the penthouse for dinner.”
He jiggled his knee up and down rapidly and rested his forehead in his hand while he waited for her to give him her answer. There were several long, excruciating seconds of silence before she said, “I do have plans tonight.”