by Ella Miles
“That’s a good girl, Sophie,” Ivy says, squatting down and holding her hand out. She makes clicking noises with her tongue and shakes something in her hand.
Sophie thinks for a second and then comes running toward Ivy. When she gets close to Ivy, she holds out her hand, and that’s when I realize that she has a treat that she must have gotten from her pocket. She gently scoops up the puppy in her arms, and then she stands and looks at me.
I run over to where she is and take Sophie out of her arms, finally able to catch my breath, knowing that she isn’t going to get run over by a car or something. Ivy cocks her head to one side as she looks at me with a strange look on her face. A look that I’m not used to seeing.
I pet Sophie on the head as I ask, “What is going on in that head of yours?”
The twinkle and light that was in her eyes just a second ago immediately vanishes. “You just surprise me; that’s all.”
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t own a dog. I’m a terrible dog owner. I get it.”
Ivy bites her lip, like she wants to say something but doesn’t. “Come on. I need a drink.”
“You still want me to come in and have a drink with you?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.
She stops walking to her front door and looks at me. “I need someone to pour me drinks until I’m so drunk that I can’t move. Then, I need someone to carry me to bed and make sure I don’t start drunk-dialing any of my exes. Can you be that guy who makes sure that all happens? Or do I need to call Skye?”
I laugh. “I can be that guy.”
“Good. Now, come inside.”
I follow Ivy up to her house. She opens the door and then is attacked by dogs, cats, and something that looks like a horse. Sophie immediately starts squirming in my arms and barking in her high-pitched voice, wanting to get down to join them all. I wait until I make sure the door is firmly shut, and then I let Sophie down. The dogs immediately turn their attention to the new puppy who has joined them.
“You remember all of them?” Ivy asks.
I nod. “Yes, that’s Nala, the stinker who would come in between us anytime I got close to you. And Duke, the brave dog who would incessantly bark at me every morning, wanting me to take him out.” I look around at the dog pack. “Where’s Lucy?” I ask.
Lucy was always my favorite, Ivy’s favorite as well. She was a sweetheart lab, and honestly, I think she was the only dog who liked me.
Ivy’s eyes drop. “She passed away last year.”
I feel the pain seep out of her body, surrounding us.
“I’m so sorry,” are the only words I can say. I have nothing that will make the pain any easier for her.
“It’s okay. She died peacefully in her sleep. She was a good dog. But it made more room for me to adopt Zoey here, who needed a good home,” Ivy says, pointing to the animal who looks more like a horse than a dog.
I pet the dog on the head and then look up at Ivy as a tear falls down her cheek. It’s strange, seeing her cry. I don’t think she ever cried once in the year that we dated. Not once. But, since I’ve come here, she has cried twice. And I can’t help but feel that I’m the reason the floodgate has opened.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask, trying to distract her from the pain.
I’ve also never seen Ivy drunk. And, if that is her goal, there are going to be a lot of firsts tonight.
“Moscow mule.”
I chuckle. “Of course you want a complicated drink that I have no idea how to fix. Why couldn’t you have asked for beer or wine or something?”
Ivy wipes the tear off her face. “I knew I should have called Skye to come over.”
Ivy spends the next five minutes showing me exactly how to make a Moscow mule. She has to repeat herself a lot because I’m too distracted by being so close to her to actually pay attention to what she is saying. She’s just wearing scrubs, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining her breasts that are straining against the fabric. She smells like a mix of dogs, cats, and something sweet that is barely visible beneath the animal smells. But it’s still there, and she smells just like I remember her smelling like.
“Luca!” Ivy snaps. “Seriously?”
“What?” I ask, not sure what she is referencing.
“You aren’t paying attention to me at all, are you?”
I grin. “I’m paying attention to everything about you. Trust me.”
She frowns. “Everything but my words.”
“Yes. But your words aren’t what matter. Your body is what matters.”
She shakes her head as she carries her drink outside. The dogs immediately run outside, and I watch as Sophie enjoys herself in the pack.
“My words matter a heck of a lot. My brain matters. My thoughts matter.”
I nod as I take a seat on the couch on her gorgeous patio that is big enough for twenty people. I glance out at the large field where the dogs are running around and then at the pool that has a fence surrounding it. I see now why she moved to Albuquerque. She has a lot more room for her money here than she did in San Diego.
“Of course your thoughts matter. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that your body tells me a lot more of the truth than your words ever will. Even your thoughts, which I’m not privy to, lie to you.”
She laughs. “The only person who lies to me is you. I don’t lie to myself.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Sure you do.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”
We lock eyes, challenging each other without saying a word.
“You’ve never lied to yourself, like thinking a dress didn’t make your butt look big even though you knew it did?”
“No.”
“You’ve never lied to yourself when you told yourself that Skye was the right person to be your best friend?”
“No.”
“You’ve never lied to yourself when you said you weren’t going to get any more animals even though you knew you would?”
Ivy’s eyes dart over to the group of dogs, and I know that she has gotten more cats since the last time I saw her.
“No.”
“You’ve never lied to yourself when you told yourself that you didn’t miss me when you did?”
She swallows hard, staring at me with anger in her eyes. “No,” she snaps.
I grin and lean forward. “Liar. You’ve missed me. You’ve missed talking to someone normal who isn’t Skye. You’ve missed my sexy grin. You’ve missed having a man who actually knows your body and how to handle you in bed. You’ve missed my cock between your legs. You might not miss the lies and pain. But you can’t lie to me, Ivy. I can read you like an open book. You can’t bluff. You can’t lie. I know you, Ivy. I know that you’ve thought about me since we broke up.”
“No.”
“I can tell and not because of your words. Your words and your thoughts are saying no. That there is no way that you’ve ever thought about me. No way that you have missed me or thought of me in any way other than how cruel I was. Your words are lying to you and to me. Your body though is crystal clear about what you want. Your face is flushed. Your eyes are deep and heavy. Your throat is tight and dry. Your whole body is flushed and aching. Your words are trying to keep me at bay, but your body is inviting me in because, no matter how much you hate me, your body still wants me.”
Ivy glares at me. “Fine. My body still wants you because, besides all your faults, you were decent in bed. But that is why I don’t let my body make the decisions. My brain does, and my brain is telling me that fucking you tonight will do nothing but cause more pain tomorrow.”
I grin. “You sure about that? Because I think even your brain is contemplating fucking me tonight. Weighing the pros and cons. Trying to decide if I am worth it or not. Just like deciding if, after drinking too much tonight, the hangover tomorrow is worth it or not.”
“I’m not fucking you tonight. I’m getting drunk. That’s the only mistake I’m making tonight.”
I sit bac
k and sip my Moscow mule. I’ve never had one before. It isn’t bad. But, as I study Ivy, I know that, in about two-and-a-half drinks, she is going to be saying yes to a lot more than just alcohol. I just have to decide what body part of mine I’m going to be thinking with tonight. My brain or cock. I grin. I’m not sure if there is a difference.
“So, what would make you feel better right now?” I ask.
She needs something to distract her from the pain of thinking about being sued for killing a dog. That isn’t why she is being sued. She’s being sued because people are greedy.
“Watching you get run over by a car,” she says with a straight face.
I laugh. “I have no doubt that is true. That that’s what you want. But how about something that doesn’t end with me in the hospital?”
She thinks for a minute while she drinks down most of her drink before jiggling it in front of me, indicating that she wants more. I take the glass and replace it with my own.
She frowns. “That’s cheating. You are supposed to make me a new drink.”
“Next time.”
“You aren’t going to drink with me?”
“I think someone needs to stay sober tonight to make sure we don’t make a mistake.”
“It doesn’t matter if you stay sober or not. You don’t make good decisions.”
I nod. “You’re right; I don’t.”
We stare at each other as she starts on her second drink.
“Why don’t you yell at me for all the mistakes and lies I made? Would that make you happy—if you could tell me how horrible of a person I was?”
She thinks for a minute. “Maybe, but I try not to think about you when I can.”
“Well, since I’m sitting here next to you, I think it would be hard for you not to think about me, don’t you?”
She frowns and nods. “It was a mistake, having you drive me home, wasn’t it?”
I nod. “Yes, but the game isn’t to recount your mistakes. It is to recount mine.”
“You’d better get a drink. We could be here all night.”
I laugh. “It seems like you are stalling because you can’t think of anything I did that hurt you.”
She stares at me with intensity in her eyes. “You lied to me about your job, about graduating from college, about where you lived, about the fact that your parents had died when you were little, about liking dogs and cats even though you clearly didn’t like animals, about not being able to surf even though you’d competed in endless competitions, about liking ice cream even though you were lactose intolerant. You lied to me about everything. Those were just the first things I could come up with without thinking too hard.”
I nod. “I lied about all those things. But you are missing one pretty big one.”
She sucks in a breath. “You lied about never hurting me. You lied when you said you loved me. You lied when you said you wanted to move in together and be together always.”
I don’t breathe when she says the things that were not lies. We both know that I loved her. We both know that I wanted to be with her forever. That I was willing to marry her. That I never wanted to hurt her, but it was a necessity. A necessity that she still doesn’t understand because, when we broke up, I never got to finish telling her what I needed to.
“Tell me about our breakup.”
“What? Why? You were there. You remember it as clearly as I do.”
“It will make you feel better. I know you didn’t tell Skye about our breakup—at least, not in great detail. I know that you are a private person, and none of your other friends really listen to you. So, tell me.”
She shakes her head. “It’s pointless. You were there. You know how it happened.”
“I know I was there. But you need to vent about that night. You need to tell me how horrible it was for you. And I need to understand how much I hurt you.”
Ivy stares at me for one second. Then, another. Then, another. One of the dogs barks, pulling her attention away from me for a second. When she turns back, she starts…
Two Years Earlier: Last Date
Ivy
“Tonight is the night, Skye,” I say.
Skye rolls her eyes. “You don’t think he is going to propose tonight, do you?”
“Yes. Of course he is. We’ve talked about it a lot. We love each other. We want to be together forever. We’ve been looking for places to buy together for weeks. Tonight is our one-year anniversary. He’s a romantic. He’s going to propose on some special night. He said he was going to take me to the beach tonight to play a game of sand volleyball.”
“Then, why are you wearing a dress to play sand volleyball?” Skye asks, staring at my dress that hits me about mid thigh.
“Because he’s not actually taking me to play sand volleyball. We don’t play on Sunday nights. He’s taking me back to the place where we first met, so he can propose.”
“And what if you are wrong? What if he isn’t going to propose?”
“He’s proposing.”
Skye rolls her eyes again. “I don’t understand you two.”
“That’s just because you are a cynic and don’t believe in marriage.”
“Damn right I don’t believe in that archaic tradition that makes women weak and submit to their husbands.”
Now, I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to submit to my husband. That’s not how our relationship works.”
“You clearly don’t know the history of marriage. Your father would pay a dowry for another man to take you away. You were property. You would be transferred from your father owning you to your husband owning you.”
“Well, since I don’t have a father, I don’t have to worry about that. Seriously, Skye, can’t you just be happy for me?”
Skye puts down the magazine that she has been staring intently at and walks over to me. She grabs hold of my shoulders and looks at me. “I’m only doing this because your parents are dead, and you don’t have anyone to say these things to you.”
I laugh. “Way to bring up that pain on one of the happiest days of my life.”
Skye seriously looks at me. “I really do hope that today is one of your best days, followed by hundreds of best days. I really hope that for you. I want nothing but happiness for you. Whether Luca proposes tonight or not, you need to know that I love you. I always will.”
I smile. “Thank you. I didn’t know if you had it in you to be happy for another person who is getting married. I know you don’t believe in marriage after all.”
Skye sighs. “First of all, you are not getting married yet. You aren’t even sure if you are getting engaged. Second of all, I can be happy for you if you are truly happy. It’s just not what I want.”
The doorbell to our apartment rings, and I light up. I raise my eyebrows at Skye, letting her know that this is it. This is the moment when everything changes.
I run to the door, unable to contain myself for a second longer. I throw the door open, watching it slam against the wall. I don’t even wince like I usually do when Skye or Luca slams the door open. I don’t care that the dent in the wall is getting bigger. I don’t care at all. All I care about is getting to the person on the other side of the wall.
But, when I see Luca standing on the other side, my face drops. He’s not wearing some nice outfit, like I was expecting. Instead, he’s in his swim trunks, a tank top, and flip-flops. He doesn’t even look like he’s showered today.
His eyes travel up and down my body, taking in my dress, my curled hair, my overdone makeup. I look far too nice for just going to play sand volleyball.
He cocks his head to one side as he looks at me. “I did tell you that we were going to play sand volleyball, right?”
I nod. “Sorry. I just got home. I’ll go change,” I say, stuttering over my words.
I leave Luca standing in the doorway and run back into my bedroom to change. I don’t look at Skye as I run past. I don’t want to see an I-told-you-so look on her face.
I change quickly into a bikini
and throw on a cover-up. I wipe as much makeup as I can off my face and then tie my hair up. Then, I run back to meet Luca, who is standing in the living room with his hands in his pockets, smiling at me as I enter.
“You ready now?” he asks with a knowing grin on his face.
He knows exactly what he is doing. He knows he is playing with my emotions. He knows that today is the one-year anniversary of when we first met. That I’m expecting something big.
And, if he proposes to me tonight when I look like shit and smell like ass, then…then…then…I’ll still say yes because it’s what I want. It would just be nice to have a nice picture of us. But I guess that doesn’t really matter.
“Yep,” I say, barely meeting his eyes as I walk out the door.
Luca follows me, and then he drives me to the beach in silence.
When we get to the beach, I see most of the guys from the volleyball team already there. I frown. We really are just playing volleyball. Maybe, afterward, there will be something special.
But, after playing for more than forty-five minutes, I no longer believe that anything is going to happen afterward. Luca is acting exactly like he would on any other night, and it’s the same with the guys. And I know at least two of the guys can’t keep their mouths shut. Still, I haven’t pressed them much, so there isn’t much for them to keep their mouths shut about. Luca is on the opposite team as me tonight, so I have a good opportunity to question Troy, one of his friends and the guy most likely to spill the beans.
“So, Troy, is anything new going on with Luca that I don’t know about?” I ask, trying to make it as obvious as possible that I know something is up and that he just needs to give it up.
Troy looks over at me, and I can immediately tell he knows something. His eyes are big, and he’s sweating more than usual.
“No, I don’t think so,” he says as the ball flies over. But he misses it completely. Not something that Troy usually does.
“Really, Troy? Nothing going on?”
“Other than him getting into law school, I can’t think of anything.”
I freeze when he says that, and the ball comes flying over and hits the sand right at my feet.
