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"I won't be seeing him again." I feel the ache in my heart as the words leave my lips. "He was using me."
"What do you mean?" She moves back to the chair next to me. "Using you in what way?"
"I'm not sure." I'm embarrassed that I can't offer her any more details. "I just know that he wasn't honest about who he is."
"Perhaps he has his reasons." She pats my hand with hers. "The right man is waiting for you, Ivy. He may be closer than you think."
"I'm happy on my own." I look down at my finger aimlessly tracing a pattern on the leg of my jeans. "I'm going to take a few days at my sister's place to recharge."
"Boston is beautiful this time of year." She hesitates before continuing, "Will your father be there too?"
I flash to an image of the last time I saw my father. It was more than a year ago when I had told him I was marrying Mark. The disappointment that had washed over his face had been unmistakable. He never approved our relationship. He had expressed, with pointed clarity that I was making a mistake I'd soon regret. That day, in all my infinite and lovesick wisdom I had told him that if he didn't accept Mark, he didn't accept me. Now, all I wanted was his help to sort through the maze of betrayals that compromised my so-called-grown-up life. I just couldn't find the internal strength to swallow my pride to tell him that he'd been right all along.
"I don't think so." I glance at the clock shaped like a cherub sitting atop her television. "I should probably get going. I have a meeting in a few minutes. It's a business thing."
"Of course, dear." She grabs zealously to the armrest of her chair to pull herself from the soft cushion yet again.
"No, please, don't get up." I motion for her to settle back down. "I'll tidy these dishes before I leave."
"You might want to give him another chance." Her soft voice carries through the silence of the apartment into the kitchen. I stop washing the tea cups for a brief moment waiting for her to explain the comment. Silence follows.
"Give who another chance?" I peek my head around the doorway to see her grinning back at me.
"That handsome fellow. You know, Max was it? Or was it Rex? There was an x I'm certain." She peers off into the distance as if she's going to pull his name from the ether.
"It's Jax." I take a deep breath. "And no," I whisper as I place the dishes back in the cupboard. "No second chances."
Chapter 2
Madeline told me to meet her at the restaurant for a late lunch at three. It's three-thirty. With any hope she's been biding her time with vodka sodas while flirting shamelessly with any waiter within twenty feet of her. I brusquely shake my drenched umbrella a few times before I pull it together and walk through the door. Despite my best efforts and a killer light blue dress, I'm not feeling very powerful or authoritative today. I'm the one who called this meeting so I better find my backbone before I reach her table. The maître-d watches me intently as I try to smooth my hair back into place. The rush of humidity outside has awoken the dreaded natural curl.
"Ms. Veray's table is right this way." He extends his hand in an eloquent loop and I wonder if that's something they teach you in maître d school or if it's a personal trait. Perhaps he embellishes every movement so it appears as though he's ready to launch into a spectacular circus act without warning.
I follow him through the crowded restaurant, my eyes cast downward. I run through my mind exactly what I had rehearsed saying to Madeline today. This meeting is a first step in a new direction for me and it absolutely has to go as planned. I need Madeline to agree to my proposal so I can start building a new life away from Mark, Jax and their bitter feud.
"Ivy, don't you look lovely?" Madeline's voice startles me and I almost run right into the back of the maître d. I stop dead mere inches from his shoulder and that's when my breath catches. Madeline's not alone.
"She looks beautiful. I love your hair like that." Jax smiles as he holds up a glass of wine in my direction. "Come. Sit. Have a drink. Let's talk business."
It wasn't supposed to be like this. I thought I'd never seen him again and here he is oozing smugness, confidence and holding court with Madeline awaiting my arrival. Damn her for telling him about this. Damn him for intruding when he knows I want nothing to do with him.
"I'm sorry I'm late." I ignore Jax and focus solely on Madeline.
"Not a problem," he chuckles. "We've been catching up. Did you know Madeline took you up on your suggestion to call Mark?"
The flippant way he throws Mark's name into the air enflames me. I look above me, draw in a deep breath and roll my eyes. What I imagined to be a power lunch in which I'd chart a new course for my business has now turned into a recounting of Madeline's interactions with my bastard of an ex fiancée.
"I did." She pauses to take a leisurely drink from the glass in front of her. "But he's not interested. Are any men in New York interested in sex at this point?"
The silence that answers her question is enough to make me cringe. My gaze moves beyond both of them to a table where two women are having lunch. The slim contour of their chins and the similar shape of their noses speak of their biological connection. The maturity of one suggests that's she's the mother. I watch them laugh, speak and smile at one another and it instantly reminds me of why I'm here.
"Madeline, I wanted to talk to you about my collections," I say it calmly.
"Yes, of course." She straightens herself in her chair. "That's why we're here, isn't it?"
"It is." I turn my body towards her. "As you know I started my business to honor my mother's dream."
She nods her head as she sips from the glass in her hand.
