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When we stepped outside onto the sidewalk, Ivy said, “You didn’t answer my question. How long?”
“Maybe a few dates.”
“So us being together for two months, this time around, is that longer or shorter?” she asked, ambling by my side as we walked over to my car, which I’d parked by a willow drooping over a pretty duck pond.
“I think it’s a record.” I smiled sheepishly.
“Are you bored yet?” she asked, stepping onto the grass.
My neck creaked from a sharp head jerk. “Are you kidding? If there’s one thing I learned from this weekend, it’s that I love being with you. And during Tantra, it was kinda nice staring into your beautiful eyes.”
She pulled one of her suspicious, checking-for-signs-of-bullshit stares. “But you kept wanting to laugh.”
“That was your fault. You kept making stupid faces.”
She smiled, and I relaxed. Phew. I wanted to wipe my brow. I hated discussing my pathological inability to commit to relationships.
Until now.
Am I really going to do this?
Ask Ivy to be my wife?
I pointed at her top. “Your shirt’s not buttoned up properly.”
She looked down and rolled her eyes. “Shit, I got dressed in the dark again.”
I leaned forward. “I love that about you.”
“What?” Her eyes brimmed with curiosity.
“Just that you’re kinda kooky. It makes you even prettier.”
Her cheeks glowed with a rosy sheen. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
I frowned. “What do you mean? And no, I’m not just saying that.”
She played with her fingers. “Because of Mitch dumping me and then hooking up with my mom.”
Where did that come from?
“No. That didn’t even cross my mind.” I studied her for a moment, while choosing my words carefully. I could see she was still dealing with trust issues due to that unusual family dynamic. “Hey, you admitted you weren’t compatible, and from what I’ve seen so far, Mitch and your mom seem really well suited.”
“They are, aren’t they?” She sniffed. “My mother’s a bit of a man-eater, though.” Her eyes were wide and searching.
Does Ivy think I’ll do a Mitch and end up with her mother?
Seeing how fragile Ivy seemed at that moment, I took a deep breath to find the right words. “Your mom’s definitely beautiful and doesn’t look her age. But like I said, she’s not my type. We have absolutely nothing in common. I mean, I didn’t mind shaking my ass in chakra dance, but I prefer good techno, for one thing.” I twirled a strand of her golden hair in my fingers. “Whereas when it comes to dance, you’re a natural.”
“I’ve always liked dancing.” She smiled sadly.
I put my arm around her and kissed her soft jasmine-scented hair. “You’re a great dancer. You missed your calling.”
Her weak half smile and teary eyes made me realize how sensitive she could get, especially around this issue with her mother. I stroked her hair reassuringly. I liked knowing I was there to listen and help ease her qualms.
That was a new me. I hated discussing emotions, but with Ivy, I didn’t mind. If anything, I appreciated being privy to her innermost feelings. Sharing her insecurities made Ivy real to me, and I knew that when it came down to it, if I needed someone to spill my innermost insecurities to, Ivy would be my first choice.
That was another new one for me. Normally, I would reach out to either Ben or Alex. But Ivy had overtaken my trusty pals when it came to sharing some of my more awkward experiences. If anything, sharing my thoughts and feelings with Ivy felt as natural as breathing.
