Start Over: A Novel (Start Again Series #2)

by J. Saman

  I shrug, because I’m not really all that interested. “Well, have a good weekend then.” I offer a grin.

  “Thank you, s-sir.” She looks relieved and I’m about to call her out on calling me sir again, but she practically runs out of my office.

  Have I done something to make her feel uncomfortable?

  That stutter is new. I don’t remember that from when I first met her. I honestly can’t think of anything I could have done. Normally, I would automatically say yes because I can be an ass like that, but I feel like I’ve tried extra hard to be on my best behavior with her since we have to work so closely together and my assistants don’t seem to last very long.

  Maybe I’ll have a heart to heart with her on Monday. Yeah, I’ll do that.

  I have little interest in going home, but I’m not exactly in the mood to work either. Instead, I get up out of my comfy leather chair and do something I absolutely have no business doing. I walk out of my office, peer around to ensure I’m the only one left on the floor, and then head right into Ryan’s office.

  Locating the bottle of very expensive bourbon from the bottom drawer of his cabinet, I pour myself a healthy serving into one of the cut crystal tumblers he has, and go over to his desk to sit down.

  It’s exactly like mine.

  Ryan has no ego or pretention, though his genius and talent certainly could warrant both.

  No, instead I’m the face of the company. A role that works out well for both of us. But as much as I love Ryan and as much as I absolutely fucking love my job, things have become more complicated for me. I wonder how much longer I can straddle this line and stay clean on both ends.

  My eyes glide over to the framed picture he has of him holding Duchess Kate on his desk.

  I love this picture. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the sole reason I came in here. Kate is leaning up against a tree in their backyard, smiling up at Ryan with pure adoration in her eyes like the camera caught them in a private moment.

  It’s flirtatious and mysterious, and I’m unbelievably jealous of that look she so freely gives him.

  Not because I love the Duchess in that way, but because everything just seems so easy for them now. I know they had a rough start and that Kate is still working through her guilt, but they’re making it work.

  I haven’t made anything work with a woman, ever.

  I down the rest of my drink, look at the picture for one last fleeting moment and then get my ass up and out of this office.

  It’s raining out. No big shocker there.

  I mean, it is Seattle. That’s sort of a given here, but it’s annoying me tonight. Probably because I didn’t drive here this morning because it was warm and sunny, but now I’m stuck trudging through the cold rain with not even so much as an umbrella to help me out.

  I duck under an overhang of a building two offices down, and decide to order up an Uber when my phone buzzes in my hand.

  Claire. Of course it’s Claire.

  No doubt giving me shit for not being at the bar along with everyone else.

  Claire: Lyla says you’re still at work. Get your ass to the bar, Lucas. I have a surprise for you.

  Me: I don’t like surprises, Claire Bear.

  Claire: Call me that again and I’ll make sure my surprise goes home

  That certainly peaks my interest and if I’m being honest, I know I should be there anyway.

  Me: On my way.

  Claire: Alright, Alright, Alright.

  I laugh out loud. Claire has a thing for Matthew McConaughey, and she’s clearly quoting Dazed and Confused.

  Tucking my phone into the pocket of my jacket, I take off at a good clip, ducking my head in a pathetic attempt to stay dry.

  I spot the bar a block or so down. I’ve never been to this bar before, probably because it looks nice and I tend to be more into dives lately. The door swings open with authority and the moment I step inside, I regret it.

  It’s very trendy in here.

  Swanky even, with a lot of dim mood lighting, low-profile red leather couches and high-top black wood tables. It’s the sort of establishment where women order craft cocktails—whatever those are—and men order single malt scotch.

  I’m from farmland Oklahoma where the only things you’ll ever find in a bar are sawdust, domestic beer, and cheap whiskey.

  And that’s exactly how I like it.

  But this is Seattle, and trendy mixed with grunge chic is what you get.

  When I don’t spot them instantly, I’m tempted to walk out, but it’s raining it’s balls off and I’m wet enough for one evening. Plus, I know I’m not going anywhere until I at least kiss my favorite Duchess and rub her adorable bump.

  Reluctantly, I make my way over to the bar and immediately the bartender walks over, covered head to toe in multicolored tattoos, and a large septum piercing in her nose.

  She’s cute, but not exactly my type. I tend to like simple, understated beauty and there is nothing simple or understated about this woman.

  “What can I get you, baby?” I want to laugh at the endearment coming out her badass mouth.

  “Well, honey,” I drawl, letting my country come out for some reason. “I’ll take a whiskey neat.”

  “Any brand?” She leans forward, showing off her ample cleavage. I can’t help but look, but the large tattoo of a butterfly with its wings spanning each breast is distracting me from the goods.

  “Whatever you’ve got that isn’t pretentious.” She stares blankly at me. “Jack or Jameson if you’ve got it.”

  “Coming up.”

  Leaning back as I wait, my eyes automatically scan the after work crowd of expensively clad people.

  And then something—or should I say someone—catches my eye. Light brown pin straight hair. Hypnotic glacier-colored eyes. Bow shaped lips and a slightly upturned nose.

  It’s Ivy, and my stupid heart instantly goes into hyper-drive.

  She’s laughing with Claire, Lyla, and Kate. That gorgeous smile has starred in my dreams on an almost nightly basis.

  I stare at her, confirming with my eyes what my heart and body already know.

  Claire spots me, broadcasting a knowing smirk before she winks and bobs her head in Ivy’s direction. Fucking Claire.

  My eyes glide past Claire back over to Ivy, and then someone leans in and whispers something in her ear. She turns to him with a sweet smile and a nod of her head. Is that Craig?

  My drink slides across the smooth bar top and I instantly slam it back.

  “Make the next one a double,” I call out before the bartender can walk off. “I’m going to need all the help I can get,” I mutter to myself.

  The bartender nods to me and my eyes go back over to Ivy, who still hasn’t looked in my direction.

  A million questions swirl inside me. What is she doing here? Is she just visiting or is she back? Did she know I’d be here tonight? That last one makes me chuckle, because how could she not. But now I’m left with more questions. Does she want to see me?

  Hope instantly swells in my chest at that thought, followed swiftly by the crushing blow of reality.

  She knows nothing of the changes I’ve made.

  She knows nothing, and though I’m desperate to grab her, haul her out of here over my shoulder like a caveman and tell her everything, I can’t.

  I pick up the glass that has magically reappeared during my preoccupation with Ivy and drink the whole thing down. She’s so goddamn beautiful. It’s amazing how much I still ache for this woman. Time and distance have been no obstacle or barrier in my affections for her.

  Could she ever understand everything and forgive me for all that I have done?

  I slap down some money and order another round for my friends.

  Moving through the moderately crowded bar, I slowly approach the group. I need a second to go over the moment I’ve envisioned too many times to count, and suddenly, I have no idea what to say to her. I didn’t anticipate this. Seeing her tonight is not at all what
I had planned as our reunion, but here it is.

  As I get closer, Ryan, being the tall bastard that he is, spots me and the look in his eyes freezes me instantly. It’s the sort of look that no one else would understand if they caught it, but knowing Ryan as well as I do, I see the warning clear as day. He’s talking with Craig and though Ryan’s mouth is moving in conversation, his eyes are glued to mine.

  And my heart sinks.

  It may even stop beating all together.

  Ryan nods once, reading the expression on my face as he confirms my worst nightmare. Blinding rage seeps into my bones, weighing me down, anchoring me to this spot and not allowing me to move forward. I’m the world’s biggest fuck up.

  Sucking in a deep breath and shoving all my fury down, I steel myself to keep moving. Ivy tenses as I approach, though she hasn’t noticed me and I doubt anyone she’s standing with has alerted her to my presence.

  No, she can sense me.

  And that right there makes me smile.

  Ever so slowly and with dramatic flair, she turns to me, her lips parted and eyes wide as they glide up my body until they reach my eyes. But once they do, they blink twice before she swallows hard. Her cheeks turn a stunning rosy color, and the hand holding her glass of red wine begins to tremble.

  “Took you long enough,” Claire calls out as I approach the table and Kate and Lyla turn to see who she’s talking to. But I’m only looking at Ivy who still appears stunned before her expression turns. . . blank.

  Well, that’s not what I was hoping for.

  “I ordered another round for everyone.”

  “How magnanimous of you boss,” Claire says with the slightest drip of sarcasm. She’s the only goddamn person I let get away with almost anything. Ryan’s the same way. She’s like our bratty little sister that you love and hate at the same time.

  “Thanks Claire Bear,” I smile at her scowl. “I live to serve you.”

  “H-Hi Mister eh, Luke,” Lyla says. Why do I make this girl so nervous? She’s blushing now too.

  “Relax Lyla, I’m really not that scary.”

  She gulps and nods and turns toward Kate who pats her shoulder like she needs the support. Am I missing something here?

  Then I turn my head completely to face Ivy who is staring into her nearly full glass of red wine.

  “I bet right now you’re wishing that was a Manhattan,” I say, hoping to relieve some of the tension between us, because right now it’s so thick I could cut it with a fucking knife.

  I get a half smile for that.

  “It would probably help, yeah.”

  God, I’ve missed that accent wrapped in her sweet melodic voice.

  We stare at each other for a long pulsing beat, and this is the moment where things turn awkward.

  Do we hug? Do I give her a kiss on the cheek or a damn hand shake or what?

  I opt for the hug and she does the same. I can’t resist breathing in the scent that I’ve lived without for far too long and pressing my lips to her forehead. “Hi,” I whisper before pulling back.

  “Hi,” she replies equally as quiet, but her tone warbles and her eyes refuse to meet mine.

  “You look beautiful,” I say softly, but loud enough for her to hear. “How’ve you been?”

  She shifts her weight, surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder in Craig’s direction before giving me her full attention. God that makes me sick.

  “I’ve been good, Luke,” she says tightly. “What about you? You look well.” Her eyes continue their protest against mine.

  I want to tell her that I’m not well. I want to tell her that I’m a fucking asshole and that I’m sorry. That I miss her like I’ve never missed anyone or anything before. I want to tell her I finally made the changes that I silently promised her a year ago I would make.

  Look at me, Ivy. She doesn’t.

  “I’m okay,” I opt for instead. “What brings you to town?”

  Again with that look in Craig’s direction, but he’s still engrossed in conversation with Ryan, who is watching me and Ivy instead of paying attention. “I . . . uh, we . . .uh, moved back a week ago.”

  Any hope I had spontaneously combusts and the vacuous hole in my chest grows impossibly larger.

  “You and Craig.” It’s not a question, but she nods slowly, chewing on the corner of her mouth the way she does when she’s nervous about something.

  I want to turn away from her and leave.

  My heart feels like it’s broken all over again and I just don’t have the stomach to stand here and watch the two of them together.

  How did I let this happen?

  “I was going to ring you,” Ivy says hastily, shifting her stance. “I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else that I was back in town and . . .” she trails off. “I was a complete nob and couldn’t do it.”

  I laugh and try my best to make it sound natural and not as forced as it feels.

  But I don’t get to respond to her, because fucking Craig douchebag Stanton decides to take this moment to spot me. A big satisfied asshole of a smile spreads across his face, and I want to pulverize him. Jealousy creeps up my spine, licking a path of fire that automatically has my fists clenching and my chest leaning in before I force myself to relax.

  “Luke, how’s it going, man? Good to see you.”

  Asshole.

  “You too, Craig. Welcome back to the west coast.” I don’t mean that for a second.

  We’ve garnered the attention of everyone else in the small party, and it feels like a million pairs of eyes are focused on me all at once. Like I’m on stage performing—which maybe I am, because I’m smiling instead of beating this man to within an inch of his life.

  “Thanks.” Craig slides his arm around Ivy’s waist, pulling her possessively close to his side. She tenses slightly, her eyes lowering to the floor, not in shame or embarrassment, but in consideration. She’s uneasy with his public display in front of me.

  After everything I put her through, she still cares about how I feel.

  Which tells me that she still cares about me.

  Which tells me absolutely everything I need to know.

  And now I’m smiling like I mean it. Now I stand up tall, allowing my broad shoulders to roll back as I level Craig with my most confident cocky expression. She’s not yours, dickhead.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be here.” The prick really did just emphasize we. “Ivy’s dad isn’t doing all that well, so she wanted to be close to him. When he rebounds I think we’ll end up heading back to Boston.”

  This gets her attention, almost like that little statement is news to her.

  Another check for me.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad, Ivy.” I smile warmly at her, my eyes drinking in and absorbing every luminous feature. “I really like him, ball buster that he is. Is he doing okay?”

  Ivy gives a half smile. “He really liked you, too.” Score! “I think he’ll be fine. Just some kidney issues.”

  I frown at that. “Well, I’m sure having you close means the world to him and your mom.”

  “Thanks.”

  I get a smile that lights up her eyes and it’s like staring into two flawless diamonds.

  “On that bright note, Ivy and I need to get going,” Craig says with that arrogant smile of his. “It was good to see you again, Luke.” He moves forward, pulling me in for some sort of bro hug when he whispers in my ear, “Looks like I got her in the end. No hard feelings of course, but you can fuck off any time.”

  Craig smacks my back hard and when he rejoins Ivy, I smile at him with a look of my own. It’s a look that says, she’s not fully yours and you know it. It’s a smile that says, game on, motherfucker.

  I drag Ivy in for a hug and now it’s my turn to whisper.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.”

  She doesn’t freeze or stiffen, though she maintains her space with an uneasy laugh that tells me she’s not surprised by my declaration. That said, she’s not
exactly thrilled either by the notion of seeing me again, and was clearly hoping it wouldn’t turn to this.

  And that feels like a knife to the gut.

  They leave the bar together after saying their goodbyes to everyone else, his hand on her lower back. It burns too much to watch, so I don’t. Instead, I turn back to all the waiting eyes, affixing my smile and backing it up with overconfidence.

  “That went better than expected.” I smile and they just stare at me like I’m nuts. Maybe I am, but it’s game time, and one thing about me is that I never lose. I may make stupid as all hell decisions, may screw up constantly, but losing is never an option.

  Chapter 24

  Luke

  “Don’t do it,” Kate says with a stern look on her face that only mothers can get away with.

  “Do what?” I feign innocence, but know I’m not fooling anyone. It’s probably the stupid grin on my face that’s giving me away. Yeah, that must be it.

  “She’s happy, Luke,” Kate continues. “Leave her alone.”

  “Nah.” I wave her away. “No way in hell she’s happy with that dick. Did you see her face when she saw me? When he touched her?” I’m looking at everyone in turn, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement that I’m not delusional and fabricating things that weren’t really there.

  But no one is really looking at me.

  They’ve got these expressions going, and are trading glances back and forth between each other that hint at a deception of some kind, and I’m not digging it. It’s never a good thing when your friends hide things from you.

  Except Ryan, he looks just as clueless as I am.

  “Whatever,” Claire says, rolling her eyes. “She’s with sex-on-legs Craig Stanton, no way she’s going back to you.”

  “Thanks, Claire,” I deadpan. “Always nice to have your support.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, cupcake.” She blows me a kiss.

  “You don’t really think she’s happy with him, do you?”

  Everyone seems to shrug except Kate and Claire. They look away. Again. And Lyla who just looks down at the floor with a frown. This whole not-making-eye-contact thing is starting to bother me. Prickles of paranoia are slithering up my skin, and I wonder just how big that thing is that I’m missing.