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I silently close the door behind him. "No. Not at all." I push the wayward tendrils of my ponytail back into place. "I'm just sorting through some of my extra stuff."
"This is your stuff?" He falls to his knees right where he is and gently picks up a pair of light green glass earrings. "You made these?"
"I did." I lower myself to the floor too being extra careful to tuck the edge of my dress under my knees. "I made all of these."
"Ivy." His face brightens with a wide grin. "You're so gifted. Why haven't I heard about you? Where have you been hiding this talent?"
"In one small showcase at Veray Jewelers." I reach for a necklace that is embellished with a delicate silver sparrow. "This is one of my favorite pieces."
He takes it tenderly in his hand. "It's a sparrow." His eyes connect instantly with mine. "Sandra's favorite bird."
"I was thinking of her when I made it years ago." I continue," remember when she picked up that injured sparrow and she nursed it back to health? We couldn't have been more than ten-years-old then."
"I do remember." He studies the intricate details I worked into the tiny bird. "Sandra would be amazed by this."
"Will you give that to her when you see her?"
"She'll love it." His eyes scan the entire expanse of the pieces. "Ivy, seriously, you made all of this?"
"Yes." I grin widely. I don't often get complimented on my work and hearing him tell me what he thinks of it gives me the confidence I need to keep moving forward with my plan to start a website and get my own customers instead of being under Veray's control forever.
He moves to stand and I do the same. I realize then that I haven't asked him what he's doing at my place.
"I'm sorry." I motion towards the living room. "Please come in
. Can I get you anything? Ice tea, a soda, maybe some wine?"
"Just water if you don't mind." He takes a seat on the couch as he pulls the collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. "Is it hot in here or is that just me?"
I stand silent for a minute before I realize I've misinterpreted what he said. He's hot. I almost told him that. Shit. My seventeen-year-old brain needs to grow up. "My air conditioner is on the fritz. The super promised he'd be up sometime this year."
He laughs as I head to the kitchen to retrieve a water bottle from the fridge. I hold it against my chest briefly before walking back into the room and handing it to him.
"It's a nice apartment." His eyes scan the length of the room. "Did you and Mark live here together?"
"It's his apartment." I don't see any reason to sugar coat the truth. "I'm hoping I can get a place that is just mine once the deal goes through."
"I actually stopped by to talk to you about that." He pulls the cap from the bottle and swallows a large gulp. "I'm sorry I didn't call but I had dinner in the neighborhood and thought I'd take a chance that you'd be here."
I nod. "I'm almost always here," I say quietly. Since my friendship with Liz was shattered I hadn't gone out much. I missed it.
"Maybe we can have dinner sometime." The casual way he throws it into the air surprises me. I purse my lips together thinking about how to answer when he elaborates. "Just as friends, of course. Old friends who've recently reconnected."
"I'd like that." I breathe a sigh of relief. If it was a date, Jax wouldn't approve but he's not in control of me, is he? At this point we don't seem to be more than random fuck buddies so is a date out of the question? I glance at Nathan and realize he's staring at me. Christ, he must think I'm still as immature as that girl who used to follow him around hoping to get him to look at me.
"You and Jax. What's up with that?" He nonchalantly asks as if he's inquiring about something as mundane as the weather or the last movie I saw.
"What do you mean?" I'm going to employ the dumb blonde act and pray that he falls for it. Who am I kidding? He's an attorney.
He smiles coyly. "He's either in love with you or he needs anger management classes."
I laugh out loud at how preposterous the idea of Jax being in love with me is and that anger management classes seem like something Jax could excel at.
"He's not in love with me." I trace my index finger along the arm of the chair. "He'd probably fail anger management classes."
"I'd agree with that," he mutters under his breath.
"He can come across as rude, or arrogant or something." I find myself trying to explain Jax's less than welcoming attitude earlier. "But I think he's a good person deep down."
