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I crank the engine and coast the car onto the road. I’m glad he’s just a friend. For a reason I don’t understand, I find myself driving faster than I normally do. In essence, showing off to Ivy like a fucking teenage boy with his first car.
“We’re here.” I bring the car to a stop in front of the restaurant. A valet comes to my side and takes my place when I get out. Another opens the car door for Ivy and helps her out.
We make our way in, and the hostess shows us to our reserved table.
“Were you that sure I’d say yes?” Ivy asks when we sit down and the hostess leaves.
I shrug. I’d only considered that she would say no when I got to her place, but I had a feeling that being that honest would not go down well with Ivy. “Let’s just say I hoped you would say yes.”
It’s the right answer. She actually smiles, and for a few seconds, I can only gaze at her. She’s naturally beautiful, but when she smiles, she glows and becomes downright gorgeous.
“What?” she says. “Do I have something between my teeth?”
“No,” I say quickly. I’m relieved to see the waiter heading our way carrying the menus.
I accept mine and begin leafing through it even though I know what I want to eat.
“Our special today is filet mignon,” the waiter recites.
“I’ll have that,” Ivy says.
“I’ll have duck in coconut milk,” I say and shut my menu.
“What about some wine?”
I’m about to order a nice bottle of white wine when I remember that Ivy is pregnant. With my child.
“Just water, please. For both of us,” I say.
“Do you always decide for the person you’re having lunch with?” Ivy asks when the waiter leaves.
“What do you mean?”
“You asked for water for both of us,” she says.
“That’s because you’re pregnant,” I say, perplexed at the issue. “I thought it’s obvious that you wouldn’t want wine unless I’m wrong?”
She sighs. “Forget about it. Let’s talk about why you wanted to see me.”
“Can we not have lunch first while we get to know each other?” I say.
“What do you want to know?” she says, a suspicious note in her voice.
I laugh. “Are you always this cautious?”
“Only with the people from the fertility clinic,” Ivy says and tosses her mane of black hair behind.
Except it’s not quite black. It’s more like golden brown. I long to grab a strand and inspect it closely, as if it’s very important to know the exact shade of color her hair is. I turn away, disgusted with myself. It’s probably been too long since I’ve been near an attractive woman.
“Can you try and not think of me as the ‘people from the clinic’?” I tell her.
“How do you want me to think of you?” She cocks her head to one side as she waits for my answer.
My gaze drops to her mouth, and I think for the umpteenth time, what kissable lips Ivy Martin has. She’s everything I find sexy and irresistible in a woman. Except for the stuff that comes out of her mouth.
“As the father of your baby,” I say, managing to drag my eyes away from her lips.
“A little difficult to do that when the last time we were together, you were harping on about a termination,” she says.
