Planning for Love

by Christi Barth

  “Didn’t expect to hear those words come out of your mouth for a while,” said Daphne. She stuck a handful of greens in her apron pocket and trailed after her to the reception area. “Aren’t we still in the early days of Misery and Mourning Month?”

  “Yes and no.” Ivy plopped on the sofa, carefully arranging the myriad pleats in her favorite apple-green skirt. Standing in front of her closet this morning, she’d decided dressing up to be the best way to distract from the redness in her eyes and enormous bags underneath. “While I appreciate the effort you and Gib went to, coming up with an official name for my ongoing pathetic sadness—”

  “At great personal expense,” Daphne interrupted. “That fourth bottle of cabernet just about killed me. My headache didn’t go away until an hour ago. But friends don’t let friends drink alone.”

  “Hope you’re ready to tie one on again, tonight. I promise this time it’s for a happy reason.” Which is why she’d insist they all celebrate. You’d think somebody died, the way everyone tiptoed around her in the two days since the abrupt and heartbreaking interruption to the party. While thoughtful and caring, their careful concern made her want to scream.

  Thinking about Ben made everything hurt, from deep inside her heart to the tips of her freshly painted green nails. Ramdish, her yoga teacher, said the color green helped protect and heal the heart chakra. So today her panties, bra, nails, earrings, skirt, and even the bow in her hair were all the same color of a lush, late-spring leaf. While the ensemble had netted her a compliment from a drag queen sharing her morning commute on the El, so far Ivy’s heart didn’t feel even a little bit healed.

  Daphne flopped down next to her. “We’ve got four events this weekend. I, for one, need to get some sleep. Two nights on tear patrol’s worn me out.”

  She never would’ve made it through the last two nights without Daphne, who let Ivy curl up and cry herself to sleep in her bed. “Have I mentioned you are the best friend ever?”

  “Repeatedly. Especially every time I brought you another box of Kleenex.”

  “It bears repeating.”

  “Well, I love you.” Daphne gave a quick, one-armed side hug. “We all do.”

  “Not all,” Ivy corrected with a twist to her lips. “It’s thanks to your support I can admit that, actually. I love Ben. I can’t turn my love off just because he’s gone. And he can’t turn love on like a faucet, either.” All this self-analysis made her heart ache. But Ivy figured it was like leg aches after going to the gym—a necessary evil. “Do I want my happily ever after to come right now? Yes. I’m sick of waiting. Except that, if he doesn’t return my love, neither of us would be truly happy.”

  Daphne gaped at her. “Did you call a talk radio therapist in the middle of the night?”

  “Even better. I looked through an old scrapbook. Pages of boys, and men, I fell for—some part way, some all the way. To figure out where I went wrong with Ben, I thought about why none of those relationships worked out. Starting with Derek Dillow back in the eighth grade.”

  “The ridiculous last name had to be a factor,” guessed Milo.

  “It didn’t help.” Nor did the fact she’d lapped him while swimming three days running. Some guys couldn’t take a little healthy competition. “One of us was always more in love. And that never works. Both people have to be equally head over heels. No matter how hard I try, I can’t force Ben to love me.”

  Daphne heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. And I’m both proud of you, and sad for you.”

  “Me, too. And as of this moment, I’m going to leave all my moping out of the workplace. Now we celebrate. Except,” Ivy did a double take of the office, “where’s Julianna? Why isn’t she here to share in my moment of triumph?”

  Milo cleared his throat. “She never came back after lunch. Mumbled about how she lost a crown on one of her molars. But I guess her dentist squeezed her in, because she just texted me. Wants you to meet her for drinks in Wrigleyville. In half an hour.”

  Ivy beamed at him. “You guys are the sweetest. What did you do, sign up for shifts to take care of me? Well, this works out perfectly. We’ll all go. Do our celebrating with Julianna, as it should be.”

  “You want to close the office early? Your news must be big. Milo, circle this one on the calendar,” Daphne said with a lazy wave of her hand.

  “Very funny. I’m too excited to work.” She leaned forward to execute a mock drum roll on the coffee table. “Mira said yes. She accepted my offer to manage A Fine Romance.”

  Milo whistled through his teeth. “Good going, boss.”

  The phone call had been a balm to her bruised heart. It gave Ivy something to focus on aside from her endless wellspring of tears and heartache for Ben. She acknowledged her massive, strategic error. Learned her excruciatingly painful lesson—planning for love was impossible. But she could damn well plan for her business.

  “We’ll fly her out next week to get the lay of the land. Then she’ll get started ordering merchandise while she ties up all her loose ends in Boston. Said she can be moved here completely by the end of August.”

  Daphne pulled down the side of her mouth in a grimace. “Isn’t that cutting it close to the big opening?”

  “A little.” A lot, actually. “But Mira will be doing a lot on her end. And now that I have one fewer distraction in my life, I can spend all my spare time working at the store.” Hopefully the long hours would give her something to think about other than how much she loved Ben. Or how worried she’d be every second he stayed in Darfur. Or how hopeless life looked now that he was gone.

  Daphne leaned her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “Honey, you can’t bury yourself in work. It isn’t healthy. You’ll burn out.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine faster if we all raise a glass to my new store!” She’d read somewhere that sharks have to keep constantly moving, even while sleeping, or they died. True or not, it perfectly embodied Ivy’s approach to surviving this week. If she didn’t keep moving, talking, doing, then she’d burst into tears and never stop. Ooze into a pathetic puddle of wretchedness.

  According to Gib, Ben had left town this morning. But she’d felt wholly alone since the moment he’d walked out of the ballroom. Since he’d flung the love she offered right back in her face, without so much as acknowledging it. And, in fact, denying its very existence. Maybe he’d been right all along not to believe in happily-ever-after. Ivy certainly didn’t believe it to be in her future anymore.

  * * *

  “Wrigleyville’s an odd choice,” Daphne complained. “We never come here unless we’re at a Cubs game.”

  Ivy elbowed her. If Julianna was going to go to all this trouble to cheer her up, then Ivy would make darn sure to at least project the illusion it worked. That meant everyone had to be cheery. Even Daphne, who’d griped the entire train trip about the turnstile prematurely eating her metro pass. “Keep an open mind. You know Julianna devours restaurant reviews like you do seed catalogs. I’m sure she’s nosed out the newest, hottest spot in town.”

  “Her text did say she had something to show you,” said Milo. “I’m thinking wine bar.”

  “Across from Wrigley Field?” Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Fat chance. My guess is a gourmet burger bistro. I hope they have duck fat fries.”

  Ivy couldn’t think about food. She’d forced down a few slices of pizza last night, and a cup of yogurt this morning. But it was hard to eat with her stomach twisted in enough knots to tie up an ocean liner.

  Shining like a beacon, Julianna’s red hair bobbed ahead of them on the crowded sidewalk. She spotted them, waved, then frowned. “What are you doing here?” she called out as they approached.

  Odd. “Meeting you for drinks. Or burgers. Daphne’s convinced you’ve found us burgers.”

  “I only invited Ivy…” her voice trailed off. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then glanced sideways at the large tree next to her.

  Hmm. Julianna could be very proprieta
ry at times. “Well, I asked the rest of the office to tag along. We’re celebrating.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Cryptic much?” said Milo.

  “Sorry.” She laughed. “Guess that’s my word of the week. As a matter of fact, I do know a great burger place around the corner. Ivy, meet us there when you’re done. And good luck.” She linked her arms through Daphne’s and Milo’s and rushed them across the street.

  “Why do I need luck?” Ivy shouted after her.

  “I think that was aimed at me.” Ben stepped out from behind the tree. Dressed in a pale blue shirt and cargo shorts, he looked perfectly normal. Except there was nothing normal about him being here, on Clark Street, instead of on a plane bound for another continent.

  His presence hit her on a physical level. All the air rushed out of her lungs, as swiftly as if he’d punched her. Gasping, she cradled an arm around her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

  He twisted his lips into a wry grin. “Kind of a long story. Would you prefer I start with I’m a jackass, or go straight to I’m sorry?”

  “The jackass part is self-evident. And I don’t believe you’re sorry about anything. You have to care to feel sorry. Goodbye, Ben.” She didn’t make it two steps before he snagged her arm.

  “Hear me out. Please.”

  So hard to think with the welcome pressure of his fingers back on her skin. “I heard more than enough from you the other night. In the middle of my parent’s anniversary party, in case it slipped your notice.”

  A nod. Then another. “Feel bad about that. It’s why I took your mom flowers today.”

  Although she honestly had no idea what he wanted to say to her, that wouldn’t have made it into her first hundred guesses. It definitely rooted her in place. “You visited my mother?”

  “You bet. Took her an armful of lilies, to make her office smell nice. I apologized. Then I apologized again. I think she finally forgave me somewhere around the fifth apology. I’d fallen into a good rhythm by then.”

  Shock didn’t begin to describe her reaction. What did it all mean? “I thought you didn’t do parents.”

  He shuddered from head to toe, swishing his golden hair against his collar. “I don’t. That is, I don’t do just anyone’s parents. Yours are special. Dropped in on your dad, too.”

  None of it made any sense. His words would make as much sense if he switched to speaking Swahili. Why break her heart, leave, but come back to make up with her parents? “You’ve been busy.” His thumb slowly stroked the back of her arm. Ivy tensed against the soft caress.

  “Well, I made the mess. Had to take the time to clean it up. David put me through the wringer. Took twice as long to come around as your mom did. His apology present stumped me for a while, but Julianna helped out there. Recommended a bottle of Laprohaig. Went over like gangbusters.”

  Maybe she was hallucinating. Lack of food and lack of sleep all caught up with her, and she was actually passed out on the floor of her office. It was the only rational explanation. Because in real life, Julianna would never help Ben do anything. “How does Julianna fit into this apology tour of yours?”

  “Another long story. Let’s just say she opened a door for me, then helped me walk through it. Then helped me orchestrate my apology tour, and a few other odds and ends.”

  Ivy interlaced her fingers tightly. It was the only way to keep from reaching out, stroking the golden skin of his forearm. If she let herself touch him again, she’d probably burst into tears. For the four hundredth time. She still had enough pride intact to not want to fall apart in front of Ben. “Why? I don’t understand. You’re not even supposed to still be in Chicago.”

  “Well, I packed. I checked out of the Cavendish. Took a farewell walk along the lakeshore. Sat at the airport for about ten hours. Then I remembered one last, critical thing I had to do before leaving town.”

  “What might that be?”

  “Grovel.” Finger by finger, Ben unclasped her fingers, then threaded his own through. He led her over to a bus bench. “See, I remembered the first time I walked away from you. I swear, I did it to avoid hurting you. Didn’t work. Backfired horribly, despite my good intentions. When I came back, we just sort of worked things out. I never apologized for hurting you. Truth be told, I’ve never stuck around before long enough to have to apologize.”

  He sounded different. He sounded aware his actions caused repercussions. It didn’t sound like Ben at all. Ivy stared at the streaming traffic, rather than drown in the sea of his eyes. “It was very considerate of you to apologize to my parents.”

  “They were the warm-up act. I came back to apologize to you. To grovel, on my hands and knees, if that’s what it takes. To convince you to take me back.” He cupped his hands around hers, and held on tight. “Because I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been a stubborn idiot. I’m sorry I said all those horrible things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry when you offered me your love, I didn’t grab onto it with both hands and hang on tight. Please forgive me, and give me another chance.”

  It sounded too good to be true. He was saying everything she wanted to hear. Which naturally made her suspicious. She’d been miserable the first time he left. The second time, she was barely holding herself together. Ivy knew she wouldn’t survive a third rejection. “Why? What’s changed so drastically in two days?”

  “Me. Actually, I started changing weeks ago. As soon as I got to Chicago.” He shifted on the bench. “Sam didn’t beat me up yesterday.”

  “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

  “He could’ve taken a shot, on your behalf. Would’ve been well within his rights as a friend. Instead, he talked through the long-term pros and cons of taking this job in Darfur. Pissed me off at the time. But it did make me realize two things. First off, revenge and pride drove me to take that job. Neither being an appropriate reason to change careers. But it wasn’t until later the second piece hit me—Sam treated me like part of the family. Part of this big group of friends you’ve cobbled together into a family.”

  It hurt her heart, for him this time, that he hadn’t realized that from the start. “Well, Sam likes you.”

  “Then Gib swung by to get his licks in. Not about how I’d ruined your life, but about the lack of happiness in my life. He pissed me off, too.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “I figured out the family thing applied to him, too. But the real kicker was when Julianna showed up.”

  Too fraught with emotion to filter her thoughts, Ivy blurted out, “She doesn’t even like you.”

  Ben shrugged. “We had a rough start. She likes you, though. I guess great minds think alike. She hit me with the same accusation you did; that I was scared. When you hear the same thing enough times, it starts to sink in. A quote started running through my mind over and over again, like the news ticker at the bottom of a television screen: the only thing to fear is fear itself. Kennedy sure said a mouthful. And he was right.”

  Was this just an apology, to salve his conscience? Or could it truly be something more? “I’m sure his ghost has been pacing the grounds at Arlington Cemetery, waiting for your approval.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass in the middle of my grovel. So I could either be a pussy my whole life, and be afraid of not living up to your expectations. Or I could confront that fear, and realize I was really afraid of not living up to my expectations. My irrational expectations that you’d only want me if I was perfect.” Ben gently grasped her chin between his thumb and fingers, turning her to meet his gaze.

  “I’m far from perfect, Ivy. But I love you. I’ve been falling in love with you since the day we met.”

  She couldn’t listen to him for another moment. Not without sharing her own feelings. Not without making him realize how special she knew him to be. Her heart was so full it came bursting out of her mouth in a barrage of words. “I love you too, Ben. And I swear I mean it. I’m not in love with love, or hopped up on the idea of planning my own wedding. I l
ove you. I love your resilience and strength and effortless charm and your obsession with pie and the way you hold my hand on the table while we eat and—”

  “Whoa. This is my undying declaration of love. Wait your turn.” Ben grinned, lifted her hands to brush a quick kiss over her knuckles. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be the man you deserve, but I can promise I’ll die trying. I thought I’d spent my life running away from anything that could hurt me. In fact, I was running to something. To you, and to more happiness than I ever imagined possible. And in case you’re skeptical about my change of heart, I’ve got proof.” He picked her up, effortlessly, just like the day they met, and carried her to the edge of the sidewalk.

  Ivy didn’t see the growing crowd, and she didn’t hear the buses lumbering by. Didn’t even hear the ubiquitous symphony of taxi horns. All she saw, all she knew was Ben. His strong arm beneath her thighs, the safe, encompassing circle of his arm around her back. The brilliant, burning blue of his eyes just inches from hers. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.

  “I figure I screwed up royally, accusing you of not loving me in front of more than a hundred people. The only way to make it right was to tell you how I feel. Very publicly.” He set her on her feet facing Wrigley Field. The iconic red sign hung over the entry gates, and its digital readout read Ben Westcott Loves Ivy Rhodes.

  He fell to one knee, and fished a robin’s egg-blue box out of his pocket. When he popped it open, the sun glittered off the cushion cut diamond solitaire. Ivy’s practiced eye pegged it at two carats. Between the serious sparkler for her ring finger and the public declaration of his love, Ivy didn’t have to wonder anymore how he felt. Her nerve endings, inside and out, stood on end, knowing what he’d say next. Those magical words that would change her life forever.

  “I love you, Ivy. The other night you said where’s your joy? Well, it’s not in Darfur—where, by the way, I’m not going. It’s not spending every waking hour thinking about famine and genocide and hoping not to die of some unheard-of tropical disease. My joy is standing right in front of me. You are my joy. The question is, will you be my wife?”