by J. Saman
“You didn’t say ‘bloody hell’ the first time you asked me.”
I growl at him, regretting leaving in such a rush so I could have smacked that beautiful face of his. I hear him take a sip of his coffee, which just irritates me further and suddenly I wish I had poisoned it.
“You’re not invisible,” he continues. “Not nearly as much as you think you are. I never wanted to push you away, and I didn’t do it because things were getting serious. I’m a mess. I’ve already told you that, but I’m sure you’re more aware of it now, but you don’t know the full reason.”
“Luke,” I sigh out, shaking my head in exasperation. I’m done with his cryptic non-answers. “You’re the one who keeps going on about this. I’m fine. I’m done. I’m not looking for anything from you. That’s all. So get over yourself already.”
“I’m trying, Ivy. I’m trying to get over everything, but I can’t seem to do it.”
I curse under my breath. “How’s this, then? I don’t want this.” I wave my finger back and forth like he’s standing in front of me. “I’m tired of trying to manage your mood swings and decipher your enigmatic unhelpful words. I’m absolutely done with the flirting and the kissing and the everything in between. I’m tired of you pulling me in time and time again, only to crush me after. I’m not exactly sure how many times I have to remind you of this, but I’m hoping this is the last.”
He laughs out. “That’s not what I’m doing with you, baby.”
I sigh dramatically, wondering why I’m still talking to him.
“I like kissing you.”
I hiss out, but that only seems to amuse him more.
“It’s that damn smell of yours, and the fact that you taste the same. Like cookies at Christmas. Sinful and tempting, and so comforting.”
“Are you heavily medicated or something?”
“No, but I probably should be.”
“I’m never coming back.”
Another chuckle. This one gives me chills, and I hate myself for reacting to his voice. For reacting to him. For getting out of bed in the middle of the night for him and expecting a different outcome.
“Of course, you will. I’m far too entertaining, and I know for a fact that you like me.”
“I don’t. And your confidence is not attractive, it’s annoying.”
“Wanna have dinner with me?”
“Absolutely not.” I shift in my seat, looking out the window before turning my eyes back to the road in front of me. I feel a damn smile creeping up the corners of my lips.
“I want to kiss you again, Ivy. I want to do everything with you, and I’m not only talking about making love to you. I told you before I still love you and want you. I can’t seem to stay away. I meant everything I said to you today about things being different. I can’t let you go. I lied about that part.” He pauses before his tone turns utterly broken. “Don’t leave, baby, I’m so lost without you.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“Maybe,” he sighs out, and I hear him sipping from his coffee again “You’re not invisible,” he says again. “You’re far too beautiful to go unnoticed.” We fall into silence after that.
“You’re messing with my head,” I whisper after a quiet beat. “I’ve never met someone who says one thing and does another so quickly. I haven’t asked you for anything other than to let me go. You’re the one who continues to blur lines. You may think you are god’s gift and beyond special, and that every woman you meet should fall at your feet and worship accordingly. I didn’t ask for the flirting or the comments, and definitely not for the kiss or words of love. Grow up.”
He chuckles lightly at me, finding amusement in something I find none in.
I’m being serious with him, and his laughter comes off as patronizing.
Doesn’t he realize how much he’s hurting me? How his words cut so deep that my wounds may never close?
“I know I’m an asshole. I would lie and say that’s a new habit, but it’s not. I should stay away from you because I’m not a good man, and you make me think about things I’d rather not think about. Remember things I wish I could forget. I’ve breathed in fire and been burned by the flames, but you . . .” Luke trails off. “I’m in awe of you, Ivy, and that is as addictive as it is seductive. I walk away only to find I glow so much brighter in your light.”
How on earth am I to respond to that? There are no words when someone stuns you that deeply.
I’m so afraid of what he means when he says things like he wishes he could forget and that he’s a bad man, but I’m far too terrified to ask.
And then there are the other things he said. About me. Things I don’t quite fathom and certainly shouldn’t care about whether or not they’re true. But fuck all, I do care.
I suddenly can’t stop the smile that creeps up my face while I simultaneously laugh and cry.
This man . . . I have no idea what to do with him.
“Have you ever noticed that almost all of our conversations are either sexual or really intense?”
He laughs out loud and long. “This conversation was a bloody brilliant idea.”
He’s trying to mock my accent.
It’s terrible. Only Brits say brilliant with regularity.
“Do you know how stupid you Yanks sound when you try and copy our accents?” I shake my head, but dammit all I’m still smiling. “Seriously, it’s awful.”
“Can you do an American accent then?” he challenges, and all of our solemnity from just moments ago seems to have lifted, leaving us with our first normal conversation since before I left.
“I’ve never tried one,” I admit. I still don’t know what to make of this strange and very complicated man, but he’s hard to resist. He just is, and I find I relent to him far too easily.
I pull into my parking spot, but don’t shut off the car or try and go upstairs yet. I’m desperate for this moment to last, though I know it can’t. Not really. Our issues are more than likely insurmountable, but I’m still clinging on, knowing I need to let go.
His torture is the sweetest of punishments.
“Okay. Try saying this then.” He clears his throat, and I can only imagine where this is headed. “Luke is the most amazing man ever.”
“No.”
“That was not the sentence and you clearly still have your accent. Try again.”
I snicker, rolling my eyes, but he’s waiting on me, so I take a deep breath and try to think about how the words sounded the way he just said them.
“Luke is the most amazing man ever.”
He cracks up instantly, probably because my voice was not my own. It sounded far deeper and forced, and the accent was way off the mark.
“Don’t quit your day job, darlin’. That was worse than mine.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, darlin’.”
“So are we friends then?” he asks.
“No. Absolutely not. Friends is what got us into trouble in the first place.”
“Aww, come on, Ivy. It did not. Please don’t give up on me. Just have dinner with me. Talk to me.”
I hate it when he begs. I feel my insides softening to him and I know, I know, if I give in to him now, I’ll regret it later. He’ll have another excuse or issue or well-intentioned reason for pushing me away. He’ll say it’s for my own good. That he’s being benevolent and compassionate, saving me from the big bad wolf, but I can’t do it again.
I. Can’t. Do. It. Again.
“I feel like we’re going around in circles here.”
“Me too.” He sighs heavily into the phone. “Do you still love me?”
I don’t respond. My teeth are sinking into my bottom lip as I shake my head and then nod.
“You don’t have to answer that, baby,” he says when he realizes I’m not going to.
“I should go. I need sleep, and it’s really late.”
“Sure, yeah. Thanks again for coming tonight and fixing my hand. I . . . um, can I call you tomorrow?”
&n
bsp; I think on this for a moment.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s actually a great fucking idea; you just don’t realize it yet. You like me, remember?”
“I do like you, Luke. That’s part of the problem.”
“Nah, that’s not a problem.”
“Please don’t call me. I need time and—”
“Fine,” he interrupts. “I’ll give you time, but I’m not giving up, and I’m not leaving you alone. You’re stuck with me, Ivy Green. You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’re it for each other. I know I’ve fucked it all up and done things so absolutely wrong, I’ll show you that, this time, it’s all different.”
28
Ivy
* * *
“It was only one month a year ago. It shouldn’t still affect me like this,” I say to Craig and Darcy, who are gracious enough to listen to my misery, again. When Craig and I first moved out to Boston, he was his usual relentless self. But he was also, as it turns out, a good friend, and he listened to me cry my bloody eyes out.
Then about two months in, he met Darcy.
She’s a physical therapist at Boston Children’s Hospital, and the two of them became an instant couple. Very Romeo and Juliet without the wonky families and tragic double-suicide thing.
“I knew I wanted to marry Craig the minute I met him,” Darcy says rather unhelpfully.
Craig kisses the crown of her black hair sweetly before turning his attention back to me. “If you want me to kick his ass, I will.”
“I know.” I can’t help but grin at that. “Thanks, mate, but your hands are quite valuable. I’d never forgive myself if I were the demise of your brilliant career.”
“You wanna go egg his place or something?” Darcy asks, her Boston accent thick with the idea of mayhem. “Go all Carrie Underwood on his car?”
“Vandalism isn’t really my thing,” I say. “I could kill him and make it look like an accident? It’s not like I don’t know how.”
“True, but if they catch you, you’ll go to prison, and you’re not the kind of woman who could make it on the inside,” Craig adds.
“Valid point.”
I flop down onto my back, staring up at the ceiling of my flat. I’m in a high-rise now. Don’t ask me why I went with this, because I honestly don’t know. This place is terribly boring and generic, and just not me.
“I’ll ignore him, and he’ll go away.”
“Maybe,” Craig muses. “But I doubt it, and so do you. It might just be better if you talk to him, hear what he has to say, and then tell him to go screw himself.”
“What if I listen to him and he ends up making sense?”
The two of them fall silent and I roll my head over to look at their expressions. They’re as perplexed as I am, which is not really helping.
“Do you still love him?” Darcy asks.
I swallow hard, but end up giving one small nod.
“And you don’t believe him when he says that things have changed and that he’ll never leave you again?” Craig chimes in.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly, thoughtfully. “But I do know that if I trust him again and for whatever reason he does leave or ends it with me, I’ll hate myself for taking him back. That, and I may never trust someone again. I feel like all I do is make poor decision after poor decision. First with Jason the not-so-friendly-stalker in med school, and then Luke. I mean, I get that they’re only two men, but still. The other blokes just didn’t last all that long, and I never felt much for them so I can’t really use them as a comparison.”
“I say hear him out,” Darcy suggests, after a very long silent moment. “And then go with your gut.”
“You two need to leave for the airport, and I have a date to get ready for,” I say, slowly sitting up and putting an official end to the conversation.
“A date?”
“Yeah, it’s that bloke that Sophia knows. The one doing the documentary here in Seattle on the tech industry.”
“Oh,” they say in unison. “I forgot about him,” Darcy adds.
“That’s because Soph set it up over a week ago.”
“Well, our cab is probably waiting for us. We should get going,” Craig says. I stand, throwing my arms around both of them. “You’ll be fine, Ivy.”
“Thanks, mate. I’m going to miss the hell out of both of you. Ring me when you land, yeah?”
“Of course. We’ll see you in a few months when you fly out to see us.” Darcy smiles, wrapping her arms tightly around me. “Let me know how it all goes.”
My friends leave me a few minutes later and I already miss them. I’ve only been back in Seattle a few weeks or so, but I was used to them. I was the perpetual third wheel, but we hung out a lot. And though I adore Kate and Claire, they’re Luke’s friends, not mine per se.
So that leads me back to my date for tonight with some guy who seemed a bit into himself when we chatted on the phone the other night. But hey, maybe I’m wrong. Besides, a date is a nice distraction.
By the time he rings the bell an hour later, I’m wearing a simple black dress with a red belt cinched at the waist and red heels. I even took the time to blow-dry my lifeless hair in an attempt to give it some volume. Didn’t help much.
I open the door for him, and my first thought is that he’s way too good-looking for me. I’m not even saying that in an insecure way either. His looks are almost otherworldly with California golden skin, very strong prominent features, perfectly styled dark blond curls, and bright blue eyes.
He’s built, large and muscular, which I think is to make up for the one flaw that I can detect—his stature. He’s not short by any means, but he’s definitely not tall, and in my heels, we’re about the same height.
“Ivy?”
I nod and he goes in for a hug instead of a handshake. He smells like he swam in cologne and it’s as jarring as it is unexpected, and not in a good way.
“Roberto, it’s nice to meet you.” I pull back to grab my purse as quickly as I can, and make it back to the door before he thinks I’m inviting him in. What the hell sort of name is Roberto when he looks like the epitome of a Beach Boy?
I’d bet my hands that his real name is Robert, and I’m quite fond of my hands.
“It was great of Sophia to set this up,” he says as we slip into his Mercedes and speed off. “And I’ll be able to report back to her that she got it right in the looks department. You’re definitely hot and your body is amazing in that dress.”
“Um . . . thanks?” It comes out sounding like a question, because really? Did he just say that to me?
“I hope you like sushi. It’s all I eat, though I get it with brown rice,” he blathers on. “Too many empty carbs in white rice, and I certainly didn’t get this body by indulging in empty carbs.”
“Sure. Makes sense.”
Kill me now.
He pulls up to some posh Japanese restaurant and I guess now isn’t the time to tell him that I don’t eat raw fish. I’m hoping this place has other things on their menu or it’s going to be a very long night.
The valet opens my door and by the time I step out and thank him, Roberto is already at the door of the restaurant and walking inside, not even bothering to wait for me. I’m tempted to run in the other direction and call Sophia to yell at her, but at the last minute he turns around and waves me on like I’m holding him up.
By the time we reach our final table, Roberto has declined two others, because he didn’t feel the lighting or atmosphere was befitting someone like him. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound promising.
The waitress goes to hand me a menu and before I can even accept it, Roberto is ordering up a large sake. Something I don’t like either, but since I have no intention of drinking around this fool, I let it slide.
“Oh, you won’t need a menu,” he insists, practically slapping the thing from my hand. “I’ve eaten here three times in the last week and I know what’s good. I’ll just
order for both of us.”
“Actually, Robert, I’d like to order for myself. I don’t eat raw fish.”
“It’s Roberto,” he emphasizes, “and what do you mean you don’t eat raw fish? Like ever?”
“Ever, but I see other items on here that I’ll eat so you just order whatever you want.”
He seems completely baffled by this, maybe even slightly appalled, like one plus one suddenly equals three and the world is spinning off its axis.
“Why would Sophia set me up on a date with someone who doesn’t eat sushi?”
I hold in my snicker as best I can, but it’s hard, and I find I’m grinning. “What was Sophia thinking?”
“Well, maybe you’ll try something of mine? I can’t imagine someone not eating sushi. It’s unnatural.”
Now I do snicker, but I cover it up as a cough.
“I can see how you’d feel that way, but I really don’t like it so I doubt I’ll try it. But you go ahead, don’t hold back on my account.”
“Like I would,” he mumbles under his breath, and all I can think about is that this must be a gag. Sophia would never set me up with this man on a real actual date. I’m half-expecting her to jump out from a dark corner, laughing and pointing at me for falling for it.
While Roberto incessantly jabbers on about something I don’t care enough about to listen to, I begin to zone out, only to feel like I’m being watched. That prickly paranoia is raising the hairs on the nape of my neck. I casually try to look around without seeming obvious about it.
I don’t spot anyone on my left or right who is even remotely glancing in my direction. I turn in my chair, feigning like I’m trying to get something out of my purse so I can peer behind me. There’s a woman seated directly behind me with short brown hair, but her back is to me so it’s clearly not her.
But just as I’m about to face Roberto again, she shifts in her chair, turning around suddenly to look in my direction. Our eyes lock in a startled moment. I’ve never seen this woman in my life, yet she’s oddly familiar, and when she whispers my name, I freeze. Her curious expression morphs into a bright knowing smile. She adjusts her position as if she’s going to introduce herself, when I spy Luke sitting across from her.