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"Well, you've never mentioned a guy once to me, so that's a dead giveaway," she explained. Propping her elbow on the table between us, she rested her chin in her palm. "So, you totally like him. Just admit it. Say it. Say it for me, Ivy."
I laughed as I shook my head. "Okay. God." Letting my head fall back, I groaned. "I like him. I don't even know why, but I like him."
"You like him because apparently he's hot, nice, and charming."
"And smart," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Jo Ann giggled. "You sound like that's a bad thing."
"It is." Lifting my head, I exhaled loudly. "I don't really know him."
She stared at me, expression baffled.
"I've only known him for a couple of weeks, and yeah, I have a mad case of insta-lust when it comes to him, but in a way, we're kind of strangers." I shrugged one shoulder. "So it just feels weird."
Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. "You know, I'm probably the worst person to get relationship advice from."
"True." I laughed.
Jo Ann's eyes narrowed. "But you do know that people usually are strangers when they meet and then they get to know each other through, I don't know, dating."
"The word 'date' hasn't really come up in conversations."
"Oh." Her nose wrinkled.
"Honestly, I haven't given him a chance to even get to that point, so I don't know if he's interested in . . . dating or just hooking up. I don't even know if I'm interested in dating," I admitted. The idea terrified me because I knew what it led to. A crap ton of heartbreak.
"Then what's the problem? If you both want it, go for it. Who knows? Maybe he wants to date. Maybe you do, and it becomes something serious." Glancing at the front door as it opened, she sighed. "I need to take my own advice."
"You do."
She grinned at me.
Tugging on the straw in my tea, I took a deep breath as my heart turned over heavily. "The last . . . the last guy I dated—the only guy I've been with—he died."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
Since Jo Ann knew about my foster parents' death, I decided it was best to stick with a half-truth. The three of them had died together. "He died with my parents in the car accident." I winced, mainly because that was so not how they died. "I loved him like anyone would their first crush, and I lost him."
Understanding flickered across Jo Ann's face, and I felt my cheeks warm. Talking about Shaun was never easy. "I get it," she said quietly. "You're not entirely ready to move on."
I glanced at her and then at the line of people at the counter. I really didn't see them. "It's been over three years, and I . . . I think I'm ready to move on, but does that . . ." Chest aching, I turned my gaze to her. "Is that wrong? Am I somehow betraying him? Because it kind of feels that way, you know? Like why do I get to move on and he's gone?"
"Oh, honey, that is not betraying him. I didn't know him, obviously, but if he cared for you, he wouldn't want you to never go out with another guy or fall in love again." She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Moving on is the right thing to do. Deep down, you know that."
"Yeah," I whispered, and that plug had turned into a messy knot, because in that moment, when I tried to picture Shaun's face, the details were all gone. He was blurry and so far away, and that hurt. But she was right. Deep down, I did realize that. "It's just overwhelming sometimes."
"Let me ask you a question," she said, leaning forward. "Do you trust him?"
The question bounced around in my skull. I know she meant it in a different way, since she had no idea what Ren and I did for a living, but her meaning was just as important. Did I trust him with my body? Potentially with my heart and all my secrets? A hard question to answer, not because I didn't know, but because it was what my answer truly symbolized.
Meeting Jo Ann's gaze, tiny knots formed low in my belly. "Yeah, I trust him."
~
A little after twelve o'clock, we said our goodbyes, and as Jo Ann climbed into the back of a cab, I pulled out my cell and called Brighton. When she answered and told me she was home, and that Merle was up for company, I almost hopped down the steps and did a little dance in the middle of the sidewalk.
I managed to control myself though.
Squinting from behind my sunglasses at the screen on my phone, I leaned against the wall surrounding the shopping center. I told Brighton I'd be over in a little bit, but that wasn't the only thing I'd told her.
I'd said that I might not be the only one paying a visit.
My thumb hovered over Ren's number. I trusted him, but this was a big step. Nervous, I glanced up and watched a trolley roll by. Then, without looking, I tapped on his name.
Ren answered on the second ring. "Ivy?"
I made a face. "Yeah. That would be me."
His answering chuckle was warm. "Sorry. I'm just surprised that you're calling me. I figured I was going to have to either wait until tomorrow to see you or hunt you down."
Struggling to keep the smile off my face, I paced in front of the brick wall under the oak trees. "Are you busy?"
"Never for you."
There was no holding back the giddy grin at that point, and I was grateful only strangers were walking past me at that moment. "Can you meet me at the shopping center on Prytania Street? There's something I want you to do with me."
A moment passed. "If I told you the images and thoughts flashing through my head right now, you'd probably hang up on me."
"Probably," I said, laughing.
"I can be there in about twenty minutes. Cool with you?"
I nodded and then felt like an idiot because I was on the phone. "Perfect."
The sleek, black motorcycle rumbled up to the curb about fifteen minutes later, and I didn't even want to think about the speed he was driving to make it to the Garden District that fast on a Sunday afternoon.
As I approached the back of the bike, he handed a helmet to me and lifted his. He smiled crookedly, showcasing one of the dimples. "Where are we off to, milady?"
I shook my head at him as I held the helmet. "It's just a couple of blocks down." Giving him the directions, I got on the back of the bike.
"By the way, you look cute today. Like the relaxed Ivy. Never seen her before."
My cheeks flushed and I wanted to kick myself.
"Careful with the backpack," he continued. "There'll be sharp and pointy things in there we can play with later."
That perked my interest in really bizarre ways. I slipped my helmet on and then circled my arms around his waist, careful not to press against his back. It took only minutes to get from the shop and pull up in front of the antebellum home. As he parked the bike and took his helmet off, I removed mine and was about to climb of
f the bike, but he turned around.
Clasping my cheeks with his large, calloused hands, he swooped in and tilted his head. He kissed me, right there on the side of
