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"I suppose not." I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. "He's not my problem anymore."
She glances at her phone again. "Lucky you. Now you've got Jax to keep your bed warm."
I shake my head evenly from side-to-side. "Anything that was going on between us is officially over."
"What did he do?" She reaches across the table to cover my hand with hers. "He fucked around on you too, didn't he?"
Her assumption jars me and I breathe in a heavy sigh. "Maybe, I don't know." I realize that I'm answering honestly. Is he still sleeping with Brooke? Considering his drive to get my shares into his hands I'd venture a guess that he's lounging in bed with the tall brunette as Madeline and I speak.
"You pick the wrong men, Ivy." She pulls back into her chair again, any compassion that might have been there evaporating into the air as swiftly as her drink is disappearing.
"I know," I say.
"Men in Manhattan are a different breed. They're flakes. Most of them can't keep their dicks in their pants through dessert." She empties the glass before waving her hand in mid-air at the back of our waiter who is obviously busy taking another table's lunch order.
I laugh out loud at her brutal description of the male population of New York City. "Are men in Boston any better?" I ask as I watch her hand movement increase in voracity even though the waiter hasn't once turned in our direction.
"Boston?" She freezes as she spits out the word. "Why would you ask about Boston?"
"I'm moving back." I stare at her motionless hand drifting in the air. It's as though she's an enthusiastic third grader aching to answer the detailed math equation the teacher has posed to the class. In Madeline's case the equation in question is another vodka soda. I silently wonder if her hand is actually going to continue to defy gravity until the long winded waiter finally remembers he has other patrons to tend to.
"You're leaving New York? When?" Her hand falls with a thud to the table, which instantly causes the waiter to rush over. "Another." She doesn't glance at him as she points at her empty glass.
"Soon. I'm just tying up some loose ends," I say snappily. I don't want to dive into the reasoning behind my running for the hills, or in this case, Boston. "That's actually why I asked you to join me for lunch."
As if on cue, the waiter is back with Madeline's drink in hand. "Are you ready to order?" he asks.
She shoos him away with a flick of her wrist. "What is this about, Ivy?"
"We talked
about it briefly when we had lunch with Jax." I feel an ache when I say his name. "It's about my exclusive contract with you."
"Oh that." She picks up her phone and lazily runs her thumb across the screen.
"Do you need to make a call?" I'm slightly annoyed that her focus so far has been on virtually everything in the room but me.
She doesn't tear her eyes away from the screen as she answers. "No. I'm waiting to hear back from Jax. I've tried calling him all morning about our meeting and he's ignoring me."
"About our meeting?" I wave my hand over the table. I can't believe she's actually trying to get Jax involved in this again. I know, full well, that she still owns the majority in her company and doesn't need his final approval for anything.
She casually puts the phone down before taking a small sip from her glass. "No. He asked me to meet him later today at a building I'm not familiar with. I need him to pick me up or I'll have to hire an escort. One can't trust strange neighborhoods in this city."
I muffle a giggle at her cautiousness. "Maybe you should consider a full-time bodyguard," I teasingly say.
She holds the glass in her hand in the air. "Now that's a great idea. As long as he'd be up for a few extra responsibilities." Her emphasis on the word up is quickly followed up with a not-so-subtle wink.
I laugh out loud at this point. I'm not sure I've ever met a woman who was so blatantly obvious about her lacking sex life. No wonder Nathan rebutted my playful request that he sleep with her. She'd likely tear him to shreds.
"Back to business, Madeline." I push through the giggles and bring my voice back to an even grade.
"You want out of your contract, yes?" She finishes her second drink and I wonder how she manages to stand up straight most afternoons.
"That's right." I realize that the window of opportunity for me to talk to sensible Madeline may be rapidly closing if she gets another drink in her hand before any food lands in her stomach. "I'd still design exclusive collections for Veray but I want to branch out on my own."
"So, we're not talking about you pulling everything out of the store?" There's a slight slur to her voice already.
"Absolutely not," I say convincingly. "I'll do a special collection just for you each season and those won't be sold anywhere but at Veray."
