Chapter Seven
Ivy
“So there are pictures online,” Grace said with a grin.
“Great pictures of you in some very fun outfits,” Emilia said with a smile.
“How did the fashion show go? Huh? Huh? Huh?” Grace asked.
“Okay, you guys. You can stop now,” I said.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were in it?” Emilia asked. “We would’ve come!”
“Because I didn’t know I was going to be in it until one of the models didn’t show up.”
“Oh, damn. That’s rough. What happened to her?” Grace asked.
“Yeah, is she okay?” Emilia chimed in..
“Apparently, she got sick. Though that still doesn’t explain why she fell off the face of the planet and didn’t call anyone.”
“What was she sick with?” Emilia asked.
“I don’t know. My gut feeling is food poisoning. One of the models went to check up on her after the show and sent me a message later on that weekend. Said she was throwing up so violently she couldn't speak.”
“Yikes. Is there anything I can do?” Grace asked.
“You mean does she need an in-home nurse to baby her until she gets better? No, she doesn’t,” I said with a grin. “My guess? She should stop eating day-old sushi.”
“What? Who does that?” Emilia asked.
“Apparently, this model. But, it was a lesson learned. And I got to keep one of the dresses,” I smiled.
“Oh, please tell me it was the black one. I loved the black one,” Grace said excitedly.
“Nope. I told the designer to keep that one and sell it. You know that sandy red one with the yellow belt?”
“The one that reminds me of a snake?” Emilia asked.
“Yep. I kept that one. And I love it,” I said with a smile.
“So what happens after all these exclusively private fashion shows? Does everyone get drunk and take off their shirts or something?” Emilia asked.
“Clearly, you’ve never been to one,” I said. “There’s some champagne and some light snacking. Rubbing elbows with people and trying to get their money. Then, there are the men that hit on the models. That’s always fun. I’ve had to wrestle more than one model away from a man who couldn't keep his hands to himself.”
“Yikes,” Grace said.
“But, there are the rare gentlemen that do show up at these events,” I said coyly.
“Wait, I know that smile,” Emilia said. “You met someone, didn’t you?”
“Oh, I really did. And he’s fantastic.”
“Yes! A rebound man!” Grace exclaimed. “He’s a rebound man, right?”
“You know, I thought he was going to be, but I’m not sure anymore. I mean, he’s nice. And funny. And understanding me in ways most people don’t,” I said.
“So what’s the problem?” Emilia asked.
“He deserves to be more than just a rebound.”
“Just because you’re out of one relationship doesn’t mean you need a rebound,” Grace said. “That’s just something we’ve been teasing you about. If you like this guy, then you should go out with him if he asks.”
“What’s he like?” Emilia asked.
“He’s very different. Jet black hair and deep green eyes. Very tall. Very big.”
“Oh, I like big men,” Grace said with a smile.
“Trust me. We all know,” Emilia giggled. “But tell me what he’s like. Not what he looks like.”
“He’s…”
I wasn’t sure how to explain it. How did I wrap up Dean’s personality into a few sentences? He was funny, but it wasn’t simply funny. It was an intelligent kind of funny. The type of funny that fed off someone else’s funny. And he understood me on an emotional level no one else did. With the loss of family and the loss of life and the constant independence. I hadn’t met anyone that could relate to me on that type of level until Dean and I struck up a conversation last weekend.
“She’s zoning out,” Grace said.
“She used to do that with Zander.”
“Let’s not say that name anymore. Sound good?” I asked.
“Sorry. Sorry. But come on. You have to give us something,” Emilia said.
“He’s… funny. And intelligent. He’s a doctor at Bellevue.”
“So he’s got money. Nice,” Emilia said, smiling.
“It’s not always about the money,” Grace said.
“But money never hurt anyone,” Emilia said.
“Anyway. I think the thing that draws me to him is his understanding of my world.”
“What do you mean?” Grace asked.
“He’s lost his family, too.”
The table fell silent as the three of us slowly picked at our food. It was a topic the two of them never broached with me. It was hard to talk about the loss of my parents. About how alone I felt in the world. I was the last of my familial succession, which sounded like some sort of old-timer problem until I sat down one day and digested the fact that I had no family. No cousins. No aunts or uncles to check up on me after I’d buried both of my parents. It was the loneliest existence sometimes, and it was the most difficult thing for me to talk about.
But with Dean, it was effortless.
“That’s really good, Ivy,” Emilia spoke up. “I’m not sure you ever talk about that with us.”
“Because it hurts too much,” I said. “But with Dean, it doesn’t. He gets it. He understands. The emotions and the late-night monologues in my head and the looming sense of extinction. Which sounds insane, I know. But he gets it. And he doesn’t think I’m weird for it.”
“Has he asked you out at all?” Grace asked.
“Four times, actually.”
“Then why in the world haven’t you gone out with him?” Emilia asked. “It’s clear you like him. It’s clear you two have some sort of connection. Why not get together with him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want him to be a rebound. I don’t want to ruin this thing we’ve got going. We text all the time, and it’s nice. Looking at my phone and seeing his name is nice.”
“You could look over in bed and see his face,” Grace grinned.
“And then maybe those feelings and emotions will go away. Maybe all I do need is one good screw or something. Then what? We go to dinner, we screw around, I wake up expecting to feel those same butterflies in my stomach and I don’t. Dean is the kind of man that deserves better than that. What if I can’t give that to him?”
“First off, you’re talking like you’ll sleep with him after the first date. And we both know you better than that,” Emilia said. “Second of all, you don’t get to control your emotions. If you let them run your life, you’ll crash into a wall. If you want to go get dinner with him, then you should. And if you’re worried about sleeping with him, then don’t.”
“But I want to,” I said with a groan. “You guys, he’s so handsome. My cheek would fall perfectly onto his shoulder. And he’s broad. Not cut like all those guys you two seem to like. He’s thick with muscle and he has this deep baritone voice that’s smooth like butter. And oh, those lips-”
“Okay, okay. We get it. I’ll need a towel over here if you don’t stop,” Emilia said.
“Go out with him,” Grace said. “And be honest with him. Tell him about the relationship you just got out of. Tell him how much it hurt you. Be honest with the man. He’ll respect you for that. And if he still wants to sleep with you, then let him put his hands on you. If he still wants to spoil you, then let him do a little bit of it. Lord knows you deserve it, Ivy. You’ve worked too hard and battled too much to get to where you are now to not allow yourself to enjoy it.”
“Well what if he doesn’t ask again?”
“Who says he has to ask you again?” Emilia asked.
“This is the twenty-first century,” Grace said. “If you want to go out with the man, pick up your phone and call him. Or shoot him a text, since that’s what you guys are apparently doing.”
“So asking him isn’t going to make me look crazy or anything, right?” I asked.
“Depends on how you define ‘crazy’,” Emilia said with a giggle.
“You’re a bitch, and I hate you,” I said.
“I’m a bitch, and you love it,” she shot back at me with a smile.
She had a point, and it was a point I wanted to capitalize on. So I pulled my phone from my purse and opened up our conversation. We hadn’t talked much today. He was pulling a double shift at the hospital, so I didn’t want to bother him during it. But the more I stared at our conversation, the more anxious I grew about asking him. What if he said ‘no’? What if I’d rejected him too many times? What if he’d already moved on to someone else?
“Time’s a wastin’,” Grace said. “Message him, Ivy.”
So I drew in a deep breath and began.
Hey there. I know you’re busy at the hospital, so don’t bother responding immediately. But I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner with me tomorrow night. Let me know. It’ll be my treat.
Then, I sent it off.
“There. Done,” I said.
“Did he say anything back?” Emilia asked.
“The man doesn’t have lightning fingers,” I said. “I literally just sent the-”
My phone rang out and Emilia threw her head back and laughed. Grace’s eyes widened and my hands began to tremble. That was quick. Very quick. Like he’d been watching his phone to see if I would message him. I looked down at his name as it flashed upon my phone screen, and part of me was petrified to open it.
But part of me was curious as to his response.
If I would’ve known you wanted to take the reins, I wouldn't have made a fool out of myself on four separate occasions. I’d love to get dinner with you, but it’s not your treat. Let me know where you want to go. I’ll take you anywhere.
My heart slammed against my chest. He said ‘yes’. A smile crossed my face and the girls began to cheer at our lunch table. I shook my head as I smiled so hard my eyes closed. I held the phone to my chest and sighed, thanking whoever was controlling all of this from above.
“Ivy’s gonna get laid. Ivy’s gonna get laid.”
“Emilia!” I exclaimed. “Can you keep that down?”
“I’m excited for you! It’s about time you wash Zander from your life and keep moving forward.”
“I have to agree with her,” Grace added. “This is a good thing.”
“When are you two going out?” Emilia asked.
“Tomorrow night,” I said. “I offered to pay, but he isn’t letting me.”
“Good. You shouldn’t pay,” Emilia said.
“What happened to this being the twenty-first century?” I asked with a grin.
“That argument only works if I use it,” she said.
“Oh, well. That’s good to know,” Grace said.
I spent the rest of my lunch with the girls talking about what I would wear tomorrow night. I didn’t want to talk about it, but they did. They kept cracking jokes at all the outfits I could put together. After all, if Dean had seen me in all those wild dresses, then I needed to keep the wild streak going. Emilia was focused on the lingerie I should wear underneath my clothes and Grace kept poking fun at the sheer amount of heels I owed. And I had to admit, I had a lot of heels. Most of them not matching anything in my closet. But I liked shoes. Every girl had that one thing they enjoyed whether or not it matched something in their life.
What was so wrong with that?
I hugged their necks tightly and told them I’d keep them updated on how things went. Then, I headed home. And the entire ride back I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Dean the next night. I went straight to my closet and started rifling through it. Should I wear a dress or some pants? A skirt or some shorts? Oh, shorts with heels. Like the type of outfit I had on when he approached me for the first time. That had apparently caught his eye, which meant it was safe for a repeat episode.
But something like that wouldn’t be appropriate for most of the nightlife restaurants in the area.
I pulled out a few dresses I owned and tried them on. Some fit my body a little too closely, like I was going to the club. Others fluttered a little too much and would get me into trouble if tomorrow night was windy. He’d already seen me in the sandy red dress from the fashion shoot, and the only other things I had were worn-out jeans, sweatpants, and two pairs of black yoga pants that could be passed off as professional if the right shirt was worn.
I guess a shopping trip was in order.
I grabbed my things and went to head out the door just as my phone rang. I dug through my purse and pulled it out, not recognizing the number that was calling.
And once I picked it up, I wished I hadn’t.