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I eyed her mouth, fighting a grin. “Passable,” I murmured. “I wonder what it takes to truly impress Ivy Lynch?”
She inhaled slowly, eyes glancing around the restaurant as I slid my hand down the bare skin of her back until my fingers danced inside the edge of her dress where it met her rib cage. “You’re an intelligent man. You’ll think of something before we get home.”
It was good she didn’t see me, because my eyes slammed shut at her casual use of the word.
I didn’t think she meant it that way, but God, I wanted her to.
I cradled her jaw with my other hand and brushed my lips over hers before sinking deeper into the kiss with a low groan. Gently, she carded her fingers through the hair on the back of my head and teased her tongue along mine.
We pulled back, both breathing heavily when the server approached with a deferential clearing of her throat.
“Your dessert,” she said, setting down a small bag with a knowing grin.
“Thank you,” I told her.
“Have a wonderful evening.”
I held my hand out to Ivy after I stood from the booth, and she twined her fingers through mine as we left the restaurant. Eyes followed us as we walked, but it wasn’t because they knew me or her. I couldn’t help but think it was simply because we looked very much like a young couple desperately in love with each other.
The air was cool when we strolled down the sidewalk. Downtown Redmond was larger than Sisters; brick building facades, big planters spilling over with brightly colored flowers, and a tall wrought-iron arch kept the charm that I’d always loved about a small town.
Ivy was quiet as we walked, studying the quaint street with a sharp look in her eye.
“Your wheels are turning,” I said.
She quirked her eyebrow and glanced up at me. “How can you tell?”
I reached up to smooth the edge of my thumb right between her brows. “You get a cute little pinch right here when you’re thinking hard.”
“I’ll blame that one on my father,” she said. “He gets that same one.”
I didn’t say anything, just tightened my grip on her hand as we walked, because I’d take her lead when it came to that subject.
“My whole life, he raised me for one purpose. To step into his shoes someday.” She paused her steps, staring up at a storefront with floor-to-ceiling windows and a bright red front door flanked by black planters filled with glossy green leaves. “My bedtime stories were board reports. Our vacations weren’t really vacations. They were always about market research. He’d point out pros and cons of any given location he was thinking about purchasing. Why he could charge more. Why he’d charge less. Why he’d split it into multiple spaces. Why he’d buy land and build something from scratch. I find myself wondering what he’d do every time I see a space for sale. Save it before I even know why.”
I tried to figure out why this particular storefront caught her attention, but I listened attentively all the same.
“And I soaked up every single word,” she said. “It was the way he related to me, I think, or tried to. But I remember seeing little stores like this and wondering how the hell he was able to detach himself from whatever went into those spaces that he bought.” Ivy moved forward and gently touched her free hand to the glass. Shoes and sleek leather bags were on display behind the glass. Big, bold paintings and a faceless mannequin wearing a scarlet-red dress. “Wouldn’t he want to know that they’d succeed?” Then she looked up at me. “Wouldn’t you?”
I managed a nod, unable to speak.
Behind my ribs, something big and terrifying started to build, pushing insistently on the confines of that small space until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
I didn’t want to pretend there wasn’t this giant gaping hole in my future if she wasn’t a part of it because there would be.
“Is that what you want too?” I asked, and my voice came out ragged and raw, like someone dropped a cactus in my throat and forced me to speak around it.
Ivy didn’t answer right away, her chest rising and falling on rapid breaths that belied the calm, steady look on her face. It was only that slight furrow in her brow that gave her away.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Then she glanced up at me, her eyes pleading for some unnamed thing. “But I think my dad detached from me too. Right now, to him, I look like an investment that didn’t pay off. I’m like all these big empty buildings that he can turn into whatever they need to be. It doesn’t matter what’s inside them, you know? And shouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” I cupped her face. “Yes.”
God, it mattered to me.
It mattered so fucking much that if she really wanted to fly back to Seattle and make a billion dollars off all those empty buildings, I’d probably tear my life inside out to keep her in it.
Ivy stepped into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist underneath my jacket. When I folded my arms around her and set my chin on the top of her head, she exhaled slowly.
