Always & Forever: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection, Books 1 - 4)

by Brenna Jacobs

  Bentley knew it was a rhetorical question, but he couldn’t help himself. “Everyone has to start somewhere, I guess.” He turned to hide a blush—the same one that covered his cheeks these days whenever he thought about Ivy’s reaction to Titus. It made him worry about everyone’s reaction.

  Nodding, Hugh tossed the cloth into the bin. “Absolutely. Maybe one of us is an undercover billionaire. Every shop has its hidden secrets, right? There’s always some intrigue going on. Someone who you’re pretty sure is selling homemade shoes made from recycled car tires in the alley behind the shop, or breeding kittens in her bathroom, or foraging for dandelion greens for salads in the city park. So why not a hidden billionaire?” Hugh did an exaggerated double take. “Wait.”

  Bentley felt his breath catch. Did Hugh know? Had he somehow figured out who Bentley was? Who Titus was?

  Hugh went on. “Were you the crazy guy at the store you used to work at?” He made his eyes open wide, like the surprise of uncovering Bentley’s secret had shaken him.

  The laugh that followed that was real. True relief. “Not even close. I’m the most normal person you’ve ever seen.” As soon as he’d said it, he wondered if pretending, on orders of the board running the company that you own, to be an hourly wage worker is, in fact, crazy. “No, I’m not the crazy one. Her name is Ivy.” He felt himself smiling. Words began to fall out of him in a rush. “She has a punk-rock vibe that matches the store’s, with purpleish-blackish hair falling over the most gorgeous green eyes and sometimes hiding (but usually exposing) a large number of metal ear cuffs. She knows all the regulars’ orders.”

  Bentley knew he was rambling, but Hugh wasn’t stopping him. “She has this thing she does with her eyebrow. It looks like her whole face is asking you if you want an adventure.” He stopped talking when he realized he had forgotten to breathe.

  Hugh nodded. “She sounds great. You sound smitten.” He picked up a bin of mugs to wash and walked away, not giving Bentley time to give him an answer. Bentley knew that the answer wasn’t the point. He sounded smitten because he was. Deeply smitten. And he’d known it since the day he met her.

  He thought of the Ivy he’d just described and the Ivy who showed him the Centennial Glen care center. Ivy-at-the-coffee-shop was different than Ivy-at-the-rest-home, but not too different. Every piece of Ivy that seemed inconsistent actually worked together to form a woman who could read her surroundings and fit inside them for the purpose of making everyone around her feel like they belonged there. She invited, she welcomed, and she included. Making people feel comfortable in their own skin. She’d made Bentley feel like he was home. And he’d messed it up.

  He wondered if the whole thing had disintegrated beyond repair.

  Even if it had, he thought, things that couldn’t be repaired could be rebuilt.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ivy paid little attention to her hair, her makeup, and her clothes these days. A little swab of blush hid the fact that she could really use some natural daylight on her face. A quick swipe of mascara, as opposed to the heavy punk eyeliner she used to wear, made the transition from Velvet Undergrounds to Centennial Glen a bit simpler. Jeans and a T-shirt for the coffee shop, scrubs for the Glen; it didn’t really matter much.

  Nobody would notice.

  Nobody except Lucille, who noticed everything.

  Ivy winced at the screeching sound of the front door of Centennial Glen. She waved at Roxie and walked back to Lucille’s room. Out of uniform and off shift, she looked like any other visitor. But Ivy wouldn’t dare walk into a patient room. It would have been an invasion. She knocked gently. “Lucille? It’s Ivy,” she said.

  “Come on in,” Lucille’s voice sang.

  As she turned the doorknob, Ivy closed her eyes for a second and breathed in confidence. Power. Independence.

  She squared her shoulders and entered Lucille’s room.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Lucille said. “You look awful.”

  So much for confident, powerful independence. Ivy flopped onto the recliner. “Thanks.”

  Lucille patted her hand. “You know what I mean. You’re sad. You’re lonely.”

  “I am not. I’m happy to be here with you. No place else I’d rather spend an hour.” Ivy meant every word, but she couldn’t force any enthusiasm into her voice. She put her head against the back of the chair, sending her gaze almost to the ceiling. This was definitely better. “I think I’m just going to sit here and look into the air vent for a while if that’s all right with you. How about you tell me a story.”

  Lucille began telling Ivy about a neighbor she’d had a few decades ago who used to work as a bookie. She played with her kids and entertained gamblers and kept track of everyone’s bets all while making macaroni and cheese and serving popsicles on the back porch. After a few minutes, the chatter cheered Ivy up, as they both knew it would.

  “Your friend Ben came by here the other day,” Lucille said, inspecting her fingernails. Her efforts at nonchalance were hilarious, but now Ivy didn’t feel like laughing.

  “Here? He came here?” It wasn’t a shriek, exactly, but she was aware that her question came out more shrill than it should have.

  Lucille glanced at her from the side of her eye. “This is where I live,” she said, as if Ivy needed the reminder.

  “For about a minute longer,” Ivy muttered. And she couldn’t exactly be reminded of that without being reminded who was at fault for all of it.

  She felt the crease forming between her eyebrows and she knew she must have the look on her face that said All is Not Well. At least that was what Lucille said that look meant. Other people used different descriptions.

  She shook her head to physically change the face. Forcing a smile, or as close to a smile as she was able to produce, Ivy said, “Sorry. I’m glad he came to see you.” That was true, wasn’t it? She allowed herself a moment to think about that as she took a quiet breath in and out. Sure, it was true. Even if it wasn’t the entire truth.

  She wasn’t going to hold it back from Lucille. “Mostly I’m glad he came to see you when I wasn’t here. How am I supposed to get over him if he shows up in my places?” And there it was again. The reminder. The discouragement. The sadness. She slumped lower into the cushions.

  Lucille pumped some lotion from a bottle on the small table and started rubbing it into Ivy’s hand. “Who says you have to get over him?” Every time she asked this, Ivy had to lie. She was sure “his team of overpaid lawyers won’t let me” would lead to far too many questions. “It just wasn’t right between us,” Ivy said, letting her hand relax under Lucille’s touch. “We’re too different.”

  Not taking the hint, Lucille kept pushing. “You don’t seem so different to me. You’re both young, fun, generous, caring, talented, beautiful, thoughtful people. What differences can’t overcome those connections?”

  Ivy was pretty sure that wasn’t a question she was allowed to answer. Instead she changed the subject. “Have you been looking through the list of new places I sent you?”

  Lucille’s shrug told her that she hadn’t.

  “You can’t wait forever, Lu. We’ve got to find you someplace that you’ll love. It’s the perfect time to check all the boxes. Find a place that provides all the amenities you’ve ever wanted. Somewhere with better light coming in your windows. And maybe a view of something other than a deserted parking lot.”

  “In the back yard, there should definitely be a drive-in movie screen.” Lucille didn’t have a car. She was just being silly. Ivy decided to play along.

  “And a golf course.” It was Phoenix, after all. There were golf courses everywhere.

  “Hot tubs at the end of every hallway,” Lucille grinned. “You should see me in my swimsuit.”

  Ivy raised her eyebrows in challenge, and Lucille did a little shoulder shimmy. They both laughed.

  “How about a 24-hour pizza restaurant?” Ivy asked.

  “And an equestrian park where we can exercise and take in the peacefu
l city air.”

  “A French chef?” Ivy added.

  “I’d settle for one of those tiny fridges in my room.”

  Ivy nodded. “I actually think I can make that happen.”

  “Cars and drivers for my trips into the city. Maybe a few handsome men on staff to accompany me when I need a date.”

  “You mean like an escort service? Scandalous.” Ivy pretended to write it down.

  “Yes. Exactly. And an Olympic-sized swimming pool. For all those of us who are training to swim in the Olympics.” Ivy knew Lucille had never learned to swim. Never up until now, that is. New possibilities seemed endless. Well, maybe not endless.

  “Sure. And a massage therapist on staff. Or two. Or three.”

  Lucille nodded. “That sounds sufficient. Oh, wait. A pond. With a boathouse.”

  Pretty soon they were laughing, and Ivy felt marginally better. As she always did during a visit with Lucille. But she felt responsible to help Lucille make the next step. “We’ve got a great list of possibilities going. Will you let me show you a few websites? Look at a couple of pictures? Cut the options down to a short list?”

  Lucille patted her hand. “We’re being taken care of, sweetheart. The company is arranging another place for us.”

  What? She had heard nothing about that. Then again, maybe she had. Was that in one of the emails that Geoffrey Vandenberg had sent that she’d deleted without reading? That was very possible. She knew better than to delete messages, of course. But these days, sometimes it was better not to know what people wanted to tell her. Her heart could only take so much, and the world seemed to be dishing up disappointments in every shape and size lately. It was simpler to assume that the worst had already happened. She could protect her heart better that way.

  She knew, though, that it wasn’t merely her heart that was on the line. She needed to protect Lucille as well. And now, thanks to Cameron Enterprises’ generous purchase of her silence, she would be able to do a better job of taking care of this woman who was so dear to her.

  “What if this new place is not a great situation?” Ivy didn’t want to say it, but her fear was real. Cameron Enterprises could waltz in here and slag these lovely people off into a different place that was falling into ruin. She could see it: moving Lucille and the few boxes holding all her life memories into a different dark, musty hallway. Giving her another room with mildewed corners and rippling linoleum on the floors. Each person in this facility would get the same treatment, and it was as unfair for any of them as for Ivy’s favorite. Wouldn’t anyone give them the dignity they deserved?

  Lucille could sense Ivy’s anxiety. She rested her gnarled fingers on Ivy’s hand. “It will be a perfectly reasonable situation, I’m sure of it. At least I’ll find it reasonable if it has that roller coaster and the skating rink I’ve demanded.” Lucille grinned at her. “Come on. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t want to dwell in the future so much. When you’re my age, you’ll realize the joy of living in the moment. Let’s play a game.”

  She pulled a deck of cards out of the end-table drawer, unpackaging them and shuffling with practiced fingers. “Hearts?”

  “I don’t remember how to play hearts,” Ivy muttered. To tell the truth, she didn’t want to think about anything to do with hearts, or the gamble she’d taken on Bentley, or the ease with which she’d lost the game of love.

  Lucille rolled her eyes. “You have forgotten the rules of the game? Since you were here with your fella?”

  Ivy shook her head. “Not my fella. And I think I know the rules, but I keep losing anyway.” She looked at the ceiling to keep a tear from escaping down her face.

  “Are we even talking about card games anymore?” Lucille executed a perfect shuffle, knocked the sides of the cards against the table, and set the pile down. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. But I still think you’re reading all of this wrong.”

  Ivy nodded, as if in agreement. “I know you do. I know that it must look easy to you, all of this being young and falling into… whatever.” Ivy couldn’t bring herself to say “love.” Not anymore. Not in the past tense.

  She took a deep breath. “But you can trust me on this one. It’s very, very over. As officially as the laws of the land can make it. And I believe it’s best for everyone.” Ivy heard the tone of her voice sink. She couldn’t even convince herself that last part was true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Bentley couldn’t believe his sixty days were over. This was his last shift as a barista. Next week, he’d take over majority control of his board. He thought back over the past two months. How many cups of coffee he’d made (and how many he’d spilled). How many pastries he’d served, how many T-shirts he’d handed across the counter. How many days he’d worked in Ivy’s company. And how many he’d had to endure without her.

  If he had to say what he’d come to understand, he wasn’t sure how much of it had to do with working at a food-service establishment. But he’d learned about communication. And desire. And the kind of work that people did to engage customers, to make them feel welcome, and to help them decide what they wanted. He’d found that a few people did that very well, but none as well as Ivy did.

  His last shift at the Lincoln Street shop was not much different than any other shift. Hugh said something kind about having enjoyed getting to work with him, but clearly people came and went often enough that a last-day event was out of the question. When he hung up his apron, he felt a small pang of sadness.

  He was fairly certain his regret was more about Ivy and less about steamed milk. Not that she’d ever been into the Lincoln Street shop, and not that he’d ever gone to see her in her shop. He simply attached the memory of Ivy to the memory of everything good that went on inside Velvet Undergrounds. And everything at home. And everything around town.

  Now it was time to get back to the real work.

  Corporate life was so much different than food service. When he’d been doing both, he’d felt rushed in every waking moment. He hurried to the gym, hurried to the office, hurried to the shop, hurried to meetings. There were days that Bentley was certain he’d be satisfied making coffee if he could let go of the office job and focus solely on working in the shop. But then he’d get ideas about how to increase foot traffic, how to maximize merchandizing revenue, how to supply better products with more sustainable sourcing, and he knew that corporate was where he belonged. It was where his mind was happiest.

  Happiest insofar as work was concerned.

  He’d decided not to dwell too long on where his heart was happiest.

  Bentley continued to attend board meetings, but now as the majority shareholder. He still listened to the advice of his father’s friends, even if he didn’t feel obligated to follow it. This was the situation he’d been working toward, and as he thought about his successes, he felt justifiably proud.

  Lexus was pleased as well. Late on a Thursday afternoon, she walked to his office and stopped in the open door. She tapped her knuckles against the doorframe.

  Bentley looked up. “Hey,” he said. “Come on in.” He wasn’t cold, exactly; he surely wasn’t warm. Businesslike. Appropriate in every way.

  Lexus stepped into his office and slipped into a simply made but surprisingly comfortable office chair. Inspecting the wooden arms and the leather detailing, she made a sound of appreciation. Settling deeper into the seat, she looked from her fingernails to Bentley to her phone. She inspected what might have been a spot of lint on her skirt and rubbed at an invisible smudge on her shoe.

  Bentley sensed her nervousness, but he felt no urgency to make her comfortable. He could play the same game. He gazed out the window at the drizzling rain that echoed the water feature hanging from his wall. His mom had hired the decorator that curated this space, but there was one painting he’d chosen: a local artist’s abstraction that somehow called to mind a forest with a stream running through it. It made him think of the villages he’d visited to source sustainable coffee. It reminded him tha
t there were good things happening across the world because of his business. There were days he needed that reminder.

  Finally, Lexus crossed her arms in front of her and squinted her eyes at him. “I have to tell you something.”

  Not sure what she might want to discuss, he made a gesture to let her know he was listening. As long as she didn’t try to tell him how to handle things with Ivy, they’d be fine.

  “I haven’t sent Ivy her copy of the agreement.” Lexus looked at her hands.

  It took Bentley a few seconds to understand the words his sister spoke, and a few more to decide that he should ask her to clarify. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he knew she wouldn’t bring it up if she didn’t feel like she had to. “All right,” he said. “What are you waiting for?”

  Lex let out an exasperated sigh. “Everything. For the Titus reveal. For the new store. For you to fall out of love. For her to decide you’re not worth waiting for.”

  That last one felt like a halfhearted slap: not so much painful as humiliating. “Thanks.”

  She shook her head, and her perfectly shiny hair swished across the shoulders of her suit. “This is the problem, though. You’re not nailing down a plan for the reveal. And the new store is a few months away. And you’re not anywhere near over her.”

  Bentley wanted to argue that point, but it would be silly to try to convince Lex of something he didn’t believe himself. She had always been able to read him like a book.

  She pulled a small sheaf of papers out of her leather bag. Pushing them across his desk, she said, “Maybe you should take it to her.”

  He shook his head. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of what you made her sign?” He didn’t push the papers back at her, but he didn’t reach for them, either.