Chapter Nine
Ivy
I landed in Tokyo and drew in a deep breath. I felt like shit for canceling on Dean, but it was work. I didn’t have much of a choice. One of the largest fashion shows in the world was short a choreographer and they had chosen to call me. And I couldn't turn that down. I tried to find a way around flying out that night. A red eye flight that could accommodate me after dinner or something. But there had been nothing. I was lucky to have snagged the last seat on the flight that I was able to book.
For now, work came first.
And I hoped Dean would understand that.
Tokyo was incredible. Full of life and vibrant with color. Crowded, for sure. But the open restaurants that poured right onto the street called to my taste buds. Food vendors sat on the corners of major intersections and sold things like fresh noodles and deep fried, airy desserts. I dropped my things off in my hotel room before I took to the city, exploring as much of it as I could before I needed to work.
But I couldn't get Dean off my mind.
I landed safely. Work called me all the way to Tokyo. It’s incredible over here. I’ll send you pictures.
I didn’t hear back from him immediately, but I hoped he would respond. I took pictures of all the bright lights and the signs in a language I didn’t understand. I took pictures of all the food I was eating and even sent him a few with me smiling and the city looming in the background. One after another, I sent them. Trying to get him to see I was telling the truth. That I was thinking about him, even though I had to cancel our date.
Eventually, he responded.
But it was short and to the point.
Looks nice. Glad you’re safe.
I found my way to a cherry blossom garden and it was oddly serene. The bridge over the water was spectacular and the traditional architecture took my breath away. I sent Dean more pictures. Beautiful snapshots of the petals falling into the water and slowly floating away. It was breathtaking. Really a sight to behold. I closed my eyes and stood on the bridge, allowing the fresh air that seemingly came from nowhere to fill my nostrils.
To run over my skin.
To caress my face.
Then, I pulled out my phone to see if Dean had messaged. But I had nothing.
I really did have to fly out for work. There’s a massive show that happens in Tokyo and a couple of the designers had choreographers that bailed on them. I’ll be back in a few days.
I stood there and waited for his response, but nothing came.
At least, not immediately.
I understand.
Two words.
That’s all I got.
I’m sorry, Dean. I really am. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.
Have fun.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and cursed underneath my breath. The garden was beautiful, but I didn’t feel like being there any longer. I knew I screwed up. I knew I’d hurt him. And after rejecting him the way I had, I could only imagine how he felt. I wanted to call him, but it would cost me a phone bill I’d never be able to pay back. Maybe I could send him a video message. But it wasn’t guaranteed that he would watch it.
Or even believe the words I had to say.
There was nothing I could do. My work came first. I’d slaved away wiping down tables until I got my first break into this career, and I couldn't squander it over a date. Dean was fantastic, but this was what my life consisted of. This was the kind of thing that always pissed of Zander. I couldn't be attached to a man that didn’t understand my line of work. I couldn’t go out on a date with a man that didn’t understand the volatility of my schedule at times.
But still, I decided to shoot Dean one last message.
My work is like this sometimes. It’s why I kept turning you down. I love what I do, but it isn’t kind to those in my life. I’ll be back in a few days, and I hope you’ll talk with me. But I understand if you don’t.
It was all I could say.
I turned off my phone to try and push it all to the back of my mind. I was due at the runway anyway for last-minute rehearsals. I shook hands with the two designers and had a quick meeting with the models, then I sat down and listened to the music the designers had picked out. Ideas started flooding my mind and I rehearsed them in a corner as people watched. But I didn’t care they were watching. I didn’t care if they thought I was weird. This was how my creative process worked, and this was what would save their fashion show.
Then, I got to work.
I walked the models through the turns and twists. I led them by the hand through each footstep until they could retrace it with their eyes closed. Two days passed with heavy rehearsals, and I soon forgot about the worries back home.
Oh shit. My phone was still off.
I slipped into the bathroom and turned it back on. I didn’t expect anything to be there, but if Grace or Emilia were trying to get in touch with me, they were probably freaking out. I stood in the stall and stared at my phone, watching and waiting to see if anything rolled in.
I didn’t have any missed calls or voice messages, but I did have some text messages.
And they were all from Dean.
How’s Tokyo?
Tried any local delicacies?
Don’t work yourself too hard.
I know your work comes first. Mine does as well. I understand. I’m disappointed I couldn't see you, but I do understand.
My fingers flew across the screen of the phone at record-breaking speeds. I had no idea when these messages were sent and I wanted him to know I had gotten them. That I wasn’t ignoring them. That I was so glad to hear from him.
I was disappointed, too. If it means anything, I tried to find a red eye flight out to Tokyo. One that would drop me here after we had our date. And there was nothing. There were some first-class seats, but I’m not rolling in that kind of dough. Yet, at least.
I sent the message off and held my breath before a knock came at the bathroom door.
“Ivy? The models are done with their lunch break.”
“Coming,” I said. “Just taking a breather.”
“Trust me. I get it,” the designer said. “Five minutes.”
Then, my phone vibrated in my hand.
It’s okay. It was all for the best anyway. Had we continued with our date, I would’ve been called into work two hours into dinner.
Did something happen? Is everyone okay?
Let’s just say this tainted lettuce debacle is a real thing. Especially when people combine it with sushi.
Then I’ll stay away from the sushi in Tokyo.
I’m sure their sushi is fine, since they know what they’re doing. But maybe stay away from puffer fish.
I usually don’t take a side of poison with my fish.
Good. It’s not doctor recommended.
I smiled. It felt so good to be talking with him again. I slipped my phone into my pocket and went to coordinate the last rehearsal, then I prepared for the evening fashion show. And it went off without a hitch. All of the models showed up, the outfits were perfect, the makeup was spot on, and no one fell on their face. I was able to get wonderful video footage of my work with the models as well as advertise my last-minute services if anyone else finds them in a bind, then I was released.
Free to mingle, or explore the city, or go home.
I rubbed elbows with a few people and gave out my business card. I didn’t know when I was going to be in Tokyo again, so I took the chance while I had it. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I excused myself, then headed for the front door so I could hail a cab.
How’d the show go?
I smiled at Dean’s message as I slipped into the cab.
Really good. Got my name out there a little more. I’m headed to the hotel to get my things, then I’ll be making my way to the airport.
Then I won’t keep you too long. Have a safe flight. Glad you stayed away from the puffer fish.
I smiled and shook my head as I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
I stuffed my things into my small traveling bag and headed for the airport. I walked up to the kiosk and started looking at the flights, trying to find the quickest one back to the city. My eyes scanned the rolling screen of flights before I got tired, so I approached the front desk and started talking to the woman who was there to help.
“Do you have any flights heading back to New York City tonight?” I asked.
“I can check for you. Do you have any particular time in mind?” the woman asked.
“Just the soonest one. I’m ready to get home.”
“Did you not enjoy your stay?”
“Oh, I loved it. But there’s no place like home.”
“What’s the name?”
“I don’t have a ticket,” I said.
“Having your name will help me reserve a seat on a flight for you until I can collect the rest of your information.”
“Well, then my name is Ivy Breckenridge.”
“All right… and it looks likes- oh.”
“What?” I asked.
“Ivy Breckenridge?”
“Yes?”
“Flying to New York City?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Are you sure you don’t have a ticket?”
“Yes?”
“Because according to our system, you do.”
I furrowed my brow as the woman turned her screen around for me to see. My eyes scanned the screen as a breathless giggle fell from my lips.
One first-class, straight-shot flight from Tokyo to the city.
And it left in an hour.
“Then I guess I do have a ticket,” I said.
“I’ll get it printed out for you and you can head through security. You don’t have much time.”
I pulled out my phone and took my ticket from the woman, my thumb sliding along my phone screen.
Thank you, Dean. But you didn’t have to make it first-class. Economy would’ve been fine.
Enjoy your flight. And take advantage of the service. I hear this particular airline is great with it.
I owe you a ticket.
You owe me a dinner. Which means I’ll see you soon.
I shook my head and smiled before I typed a message back.
Looking forward to it.
And I really, really was.
Chapter Ten
Dean
Ivy had been back in the country for a couple of days, but I hadn’t heard from her. I figured she was tired, so I tried not to bother her too much. Was the first-class ticket too much? Maybe I should have made it business class. But I didn’t want her worrying about her comfort on the ride home. I was also trying to be a little funny, given our prior conversation about it. Plus, it was kind of an apology for my cold temperament towards her.
Maybe I tried to do too much with that one ticket.
Are you doing anything tonight?
I looked down at the message and quickly opened my phone.
Unless I’m called into work on my free weekend, no. It’s nice to hear from you, by the way. How was your flight?
Very luxurious. Which means I have a lot of making up to do with you. I’d like to start by making you dinner.
Does this mean I’m getting fed Italian tonight?
Depends. Are you free tonight to come over to my place?
Of course I was. I sent her a message back telling her I was free and she promptly shot over her address. There it was. That wonderful missing piece I’d been longing for. I told her I’d be there at six and she told me the food would be ready by then. It had been years since anyone had cooked me a meal. I was a terrible cook, so I survived on microwavable vegetables and restaurants. I looked over at the clock and saw it was almost three, so I hopped in the shower and went through the painstaking process of getting ready again.
Showering.
Shaving.
Picking out an outfit.
Since I was going to her place, I didn’t feel the need for a suit. A pair of jeans and a nice polo would do the trick just fine. I prayed that nothing would happen as the hospital tonight so I could share this night with Ivy. Finally, after almost two weeks of batting messages back and forth, I was going to get to see her again.
And when I pulled up into her apartment complex, I got nervous.
I walked up to her apartment and I could already smell the food. I groaned to myself before I knocked at the door, and it quickly whipped open. There she stood, with her long blonde and green hair with those beautiful brown eyes filled with the yellow of the sun. She had flour on her nose and a very dirty apron wrapped around her waist, and somehow she still managed to look gorgeous.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I said with a grin.
“I’d hug you, but I’m covered in sauce,” Ivy said.
“And flour,” I said as I reached my hand out.
I slipped my thumb over her cheek and dusted the powder off her face. I watched her blush as a grin crept across her cheeks and I couldn't stop staring at her. The way her eyes lit up and the way her skin flushed underneath my touch.
“Come on in. Everything’s almost ready. I have a glass of wine for you and everything.”
“Wow. First-class treatment,” I said.
“You gave it to me. So I figured I would return the favor.”
Her apartment was nice. Much more decorated and lived in than mine was. Her hardwood floors were shiny and her furniture was plush. She had a sturdy kitchen table with two chairs over in the corner. Lit candles were dancing on top of the table and two glasses of red wine were sitting there untouched. The smells wafting around my head made my stomach growl, and Ivy chuckled all the way in the kitchen.
“I heard that,” she said.
“It smells wonderful in here.”
“I’m about to get everything settled on the table,” she said. “Take a seat. Rest.”
“I’ll sit when you’re with me.”
“Unless you want me to sit on you,” she said.
“Is that an option?”
She poked her head out from beyond the corner of the kitchen doorway and stuck her tongue out. It was a cute gesture that made me chuckle as I stood by the table. I picked up the glass of wine and took a sip of it before my eyes bulged.
It was decadent.
It was also expensive.
“Ivy, you really didn’t have to-”
“I’m not going to hear a word of it,” she said as she came striding from the kitchen. “I’ve got two bottles of that stuff for us to enjoy. So drink.”
“How much did you spend on these?” I asked.
“I didn’t ask you how much the ticket was.”
“Ivy…”
“Sit, Dean. One more dish and we’re ready to go.”
The homemade lasagna made my mouth water, but it was the homemade garlic bread that drove it home. There was a wonderful tossed salad to pair with everything. To bring it all together. I wanted to talk with her, but I couldn't stop eating. The food was magnificent. The cheese melted in my mouth and the meat was rich and hearty and the garlic bread steamed with every bite I took.
“My mother always said that if no one was talking at the dinner table then that was the true compliment to the chef.”
“Then she was right,” I said. “Ivy, this food is fantastic.”
“You can thank my mother for it. It’s an original recipe.”
“You could sell this somewhere and make a killing.”
“Or I could lure unsuspecting men into my apartment and feed them until they burst.”
I grinned at her before I took another bite of the lasagna.
“My mother used to make meals like this all the time,” Ivy said. “Massive spreads, too. We didn’t have family to invite over, so we would invite the neighbors. And they loved it. They brought the drinks and desserts and my mother cooked all the food.”
“Was the lasagna a hit?” I asked.
“It was everyone’s favorite. But her favorite was her eggplant parmesan.”
“Hmm, that dish sounds familiar,” I said with a grin.
“Delivery’s makes a really good one. Not quite like Mom’s, but it’s up there.”
“Nothing is ever quite like Mom’s,” I said.
A somber mood fell over the table and I slid my foot over to hers. We ate in silence for a little while with my leg resting against hers. I never talked about my family with people. Never mentioned them. Never acknowledged them. It was too painful. Too much sorrow all at once. But with Ivy, I felt like I could mention them. Reminisce a little bit with her.
But not tonight.
I wanted tonight to be full of laughter and smiles.
“I should just pay you to make me freezer meals,” I said only half joking.
“Mmm, this kind of food isn’t good after it’s been frozen,” Ivy said.
“Then I guess I’m stuck eating takeout.”
“You know you could become a better cook if you… you know… cooked.”
“I’m not so sure my kitchen would make it out alive if I tried to cook on a regular basis.”
“Because you’re terrible? Or because the equipment is faulty?”
“Trust me, I’d blame it on the equipment,” I said with a grin.
“Then maybe I can give you cooking lessons.”
“Will you help me stir the pots?” I asked.
“What? You mean like wrap my arms around you from behind and murmur gently into your ear how to boil water?” she asked.
I chuckled before I started in on my salad.
“I don’t think you’re going to have much food left after I’m done with it,” I said.
“Well, whatever you don’t eat you can take with you. I’ll pack it up in some tupperware and put it in a bag for you.”
“You aren’t going to eat any of it?” I asked.
“I can cook it,” she said with a grin. “And I wouldn't want you wasting away, either. Those muscles of yours are too glorious.”
“So you like the view.”
“Why do you think I talked with you at the fashion show?”
“And here I thought you talked to me because of my personality.”
“A personality wrapped up nicely in a big, meaty package,” she said coyly.
After a beat of silence, I took a chance. I ran the toe of my shoe slowly up her ankle. I held her gaze, watching as her coy little grin morphed into a shy smile. She went back to eating her food, but she certainly didn’t move her leg. If anything, I could’ve sworn she pushed it further into my touch.
Into my caress.
I didn’t take Ivy for the type of woman to sleep with a man on the first date.
But if the option was there, I certainly wouldn't turn it down.
“What was your favorite part of Tokyo?” I asked.
“The cherry blossom garden,” Ivy said. “I could’ve stood on that bridge for hours and listened to the water trickle on by.”
“The pictures you sent me were beautiful.”
“Trust me. They didn’t even begin to capture what I saw while I was there. I’d go back to Tokyo just to walk that garden through one more time.”
“Then it really must’ve been something,” I said.
“Dean, I’m so-”
I slid my toe up the back of her calf and her words caught in her throat.
“Don’t,” I said. “It’s in the past. Your work is important and someone needed your help. If there’s anyone who should understand that concept, it’s me.”
I watched her nod her head as my toe slowly drifted back down her skin.
“If you want me to-”
“No,” she said quickly.
Her eyes fluttered up to mine over the table as I took a long pull of my wine.
“I mean, it’s fine,” she said. “You’re… you’re fine.”
The blush in her cheeks was unmistakable and I felt myself buckling towards her.
“Do you want some more?” Ivy asked.
“Depends. Is there dessert?” I asked.
Her eyes came back to mine and I watched her swallow. I watched that beautiful red percolate down her neck. Accenting the light tan in her skin and the few sparse freckles she had that littered her body. She was a vision. An angel wrapped up in a beautiful wrapping paper. I held her stare as she scooted her leg back, and I felt my stomach drop.
I’d pushed her too far.
“Ivy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t-”
In a flash, her lips were on mine. She was out of her seat and hovering over me with her hands planted onto the arms of my chair. Her knee slid between my legs, perching on the small part of the chair she could access. Her lips tasted like wine and marinara. The sweetest combination of her heritage and the talent behind her nimble fingers. She pressed herself further into me. I could feel her chest pressing against mine. My hand rose to cup her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then I slid my tongue across her lips and smiled when she granted me access.