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

by J. Saman

“Sure, yeah. Thanks again for coming tonight and fixing my hand. I . . . um, can I call you tomorrow?”

  I think on this for a moment.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s actually a great fucking idea, you just don’t realize it yet. You like me, remember?”

  “I do like you, Luke. That’s part of the problem.”

  “Nah, that’s not a problem.”

  “Please don’t call me. I need time and—”

  “Fine,” he interrupts. “I’ll give you time, but I’m not giving up and I’m not leaving you alone. You’re stuck with me, Ivy Green. You’re mine and I’m yours. We’re it for each other. I know I’ve fucked it all up and done things so absolutely wrong, I’ll show you that this time, it’s all different.”

  Chapter 28

  Ivy

  “It was only one month a year ago. It shouldn’t still affect me like this,” I say to Craig and Darcy who are gracious enough to listen to my misery, again. When Craig and I first moved out to Boston, he was his usual relentless self. But he was also, as it turns out, a good friend and he listened to me cry my bloody eyes out.

  Then about two months in, he met Darcy.

  She’s a physical therapist at Boston Children’s Hospital and the two of them became an instant couple. Very Romeo and Juliet without the wonky families and tragic double-suicide thing.

  “I knew I wanted to marry Craig the minute I met him,” Darcy says rather unhelpfully.

  Craig kisses the crown of her black hair sweetly before turning his attention back to me. “If you want me to kick his ass, I will.”

  “I know.” I can’t help but grin at that. “Thanks mate, but your hands are quite valuable. I’d never forgive myself if I was the demise of your brilliant career.”

  “You wanna go egg his place or something?” Darcy asks, her Boston accent thick with the idea of mayhem. “Go all Carrie Underwood on his car?”

  “Vandalism isn’t really my thing,” I say. “I could kill him and make it look like an accident? It’s not like I don’t know how.”

  “True, but if they catch you, you’ll go to prison, and you’re not the kind of woman who could make it on the inside,” Craig adds.

  “Valid point.”

  I flop down onto my back, staring up at the ceiling of my flat. I’m in a high-rise now. Don’t ask me why I went with this, because I honestly don’t know. This place is terribly boring and generic, and just not me.

  “I’ll ignore him and he’ll go away.”

  “Maybe,” Craig muses. “But I doubt it, and so do you. It might just be better if you talk to him, hear what he has to say and then tell him to go screw himself.”

  “What if I listen to him and he ends up making sense?”

  The two of them fall silent and I roll my head over to look at their expressions. They’re as perplexed as I am, which is not really helping.

  “Do you still love him?” Darcy asks.

  I swallow hard, but end up giving one small nod.

  “And you don’t believe him when he says that things have changed and that he’ll never leave you again?” Craig chimes in.

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly, thoughtfully. “But I do know that if I trust him again and for whatever reason he does leave or ends it with me, I’ll hate myself for taking him back. That and I may never trust someone again. I feel like all I do is make poor decision after poor decision. First with Jason the not-so-friendly-stalker in med school, and then Luke. I mean, I get that they’re only two men, but still. The other blokes just didn’t last all that long, and I never felt much for them so I can’t really use them as a comparison.”

  “I say hear him out,” Darcy suggests, after a very long silent moment. “And then go with your gut.”

  “You two need to leave for the airport, and I have a date to get ready for,” I say, slowing sitting up and putting an official end to the conversation.

  “A date?”

  “Yeah, it’s that bloke that Sophia knows. The one doing the documentary here in Seattle on the tech industry.”

  “Oh,” they say in unison. “I forgot about him,” Darcy adds.

  “That’s because Soph set it up over a week ago.”

  “Well, our cab is probably waiting for us. We should get going,” Craig says. I stand, throwing my arms around both of them. “You’ll be fine, Ivy.”

  “Thanks, mate. I’m going to miss the hell out of both of you. Ring me when you land, yeah?”

  “Of course. We’ll see you in a few months when you fly out to us.” Darcy smiles, wrapping her arms tightly around me. “Let me know how it all goes.”

  My friends leave me a few minutes later and I already miss them. I’ve only been back in Seattle a few weeks or so, but I was used to them. I was the perpetual third wheel, but we hung out a lot. And though I adore Kate and Claire, they’re Luke’s friends, not mine per se.

  So that leads me back to my date for tonight with some guy who seemed a bit into himself when we chatted on the phone the other night. But hey, maybe I’m wrong. Besides, a date is a nice distraction.

  By the time he rings the bell an hour later, I’m wearing a simple black dress with a red belt cinched at the waist and red heels. I even took the time to blow-dry my lifeless hair in an attempt to give it some volume. Didn’t help much.

  I open the door for him and my first thought is that he’s way too good-looking for me. I’m not even saying that in an insecure way either. His looks are almost otherworldly with California golden skin, very strong prominent features, perfectly styled dark blond curls and bright blue eyes.

  He’s built, large and muscular, which I think is to make up for the one flaw that I can detect—his stature. He’s not short by any means, but he’s definitely not tall, and in my heels, we’re about the same height.

  “Ivy?”

  I nod and he goes in for a hug instead of a handshake. He smells like he swam in cologne and it’s as jarring as it is unexpected, and not in a good way.

  “Roberto, it’s nice to meet you.” I pull back to grab my purse as quickly as I can, and make it back to the door before he thinks I’m inviting him in. What the hell sort of name is Roberto when he looks like the epitome of a Beach Boy?

  I’d bet my hands that his real name is Robert, and I’m quite fond of my hands.

  “It was great of Sophia to set this up,” he says as we slip into his Mercedes and speed off. “And I’ll be able to report back to her that she got it right in the looks department. You’re definitely hot and your body is amazing in that dress.”

  “Um . . . thanks?” It comes out sounding like a question, because really? Did he just say that to me?

  “I hope you like sushi. It’s all I eat, though I get it with brown rice,” he blathers on. “Too many empty carbs in white rice, and I certainly didn’t get this body by indulging in empty carbs.”

  “Sure. Makes sense.”

  Kill me now.

  He pulls up to some posh Japanese restaurant and I guess now isn’t the time to tell him that I don’t eat raw fish. I’m hoping this place has other things on their menu or it’s going to be a very long night.

  The valet opens my door and by the time I step out and thank him, Roberto is already at the door of the restaurant and walking inside, not even bothering to wait for me. I’m tempted to run in the other direction and call Sophia to yell at her, but at the last minute he turns around and waves me on like I’m holding him up.

  By the time we reach our final table, Roberto has declined two others, because he didn’t feel the lighting or atmosphere was befitting someone like him. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound promising.

  The waitress goes to hand me a menu and before I can even accept it, Roberto is ordering up a large sake. Something I don’t like either, but since I have no intention of drinking around this fool, I let it slide.

  “Oh, you won’t need a menu,” he insists, practically slapping the thing from my hand.
“I’ve eaten here three times in the last week and I know what’s good. I’ll just order for both of us.”

  “Actually, Robert, I’d like to order for myself. I don’t eat raw fish.”

  “It’s Roberto,” he emphasizes, “and what do you mean you don’t eat raw fish? Like ever?”

  “Ever, but I see other items on here that I’ll eat so you just order whatever you want.”

  He seems completely baffled by this, maybe even slightly appalled, like one plus one suddenly equals three and the world is spinning off its axis.

  “Why would Sophia set me up on a date with someone who doesn’t eat sushi?”

  I hold in my snicker as best I can, but it’s hard and I find I’m grinning. “What was Sophia thinking?”

  “Well, maybe you’ll try something of mine? I can’t imagine someone not eating sushi. It’s unnatural.”

  Now I do snicker, but I cover it up as a cough.

  “I can see how you’d feel that way, but I really don’t like it so I doubt I’ll try it. But you go ahead, don’t hold back on my account.”

  “Like I would,” he mumbles under his breath, and all I can think about is that this must be a gag. Sophia would never set me up with this man on a real actual date. I’m half expecting her to jump out from a dark corner, laughing and pointing at me for falling for it.

  While Roberto incessantly jabbers on about something I don’t care enough about to listen to, I begin to zone out, only to feel like I’m being watched. That prickly paranoia is raising the hairs on the nape of my neck. I casually try to look around without seeming obvious about it.

  I don’t spot anyone on my left or right who is even remotely glancing in my direction. I turn in my chair, feigning like I’m trying to get something out of my purse so I can peer behind me. There’s a woman seated directly behind me with short brown hair, but her back to is to me so it’s clearly not her either.

  But just as I’m about to face Roberto again, she shifts in her chair, turning around suddenly to look in my direction. Our eyes lock in a startled moment. I’ve never seen this woman in my life, yet she’s oddly familiar and when she whispers my name, I freeze. Her curious expression morphs into a bright knowing smile. She adjusts her position as if she’s going to introduce herself, when I spy Luke sitting across from her.

  My mouth pops open and I feel bile rise up my throat. He’s on a date with another woman not even twenty-four hours after professing his love for me?

  That, and he’s clearly told this woman who I am, or at the very least my name.

  “Ivy, did you hear me?” Roberto asks, tearing my attention away from the staring game I have going with this woman and I spin around to face my date.

  “No,” I say not bothering to lie.

  I need to get out here. Now. I can’t sit and pretend to enjoy a meal with a man I already cannot stand when Luke and his date are directly behind me.

  “I need to leave. I’m not feeling well.” I don’t even apologize to him as I hastily grab for my purse that is slung over the back of my seat.

  “Are you okay? Should I take you home? I mean, I ordered that sake and I’d hate to waste it.”

  I laugh out humorlessly. “No, you stay and enjoy your meal.” I stand up carelessly, nearly tipping my chair back onto Luke’s date. I realize how this must look to the two of them, but right now, I can’t find it in me to care.

  What a bastard.

  And to think I was considering hearing him out.

  God, I’m so stupid.

  I rush past Roberto, heading for the front of the restaurant, so thankful that both Luke and his date were further back than us and I don’t have to pass them as I flee.

  Bursting through the glass door and nearly knocking over a woman as I do, I realize I need to get a grip. I’m being so overly dramatic, and that’s just not me. So what if he’s on a date? So what if he’s a lying piece of shit wanker arsehole?

  So what?

  He’s allowed to date anyone he’s keen on, and so am I. That’s all there is to it.

  It was an exceptionally warm day today, but with the sun having gone down, any residual heat seems to have gone with it. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I scan the street, desperately searching for a taxi, but come up empty.

  Of course, never when you need one.

  I pull out my phone to order an Uber when I hear my name being called. Luke followed me out. Why would he do that?

  I shake my head, running down the street toward the busier intersection, my heels clicking against the cement sidewalk as I go.

  “Dammit, Ivy, wait!” he yells after me. “It’s not what you think.”

  I throw my hand up in the air. “I don’t care, Luke, it doesn’t matter,” I call out, increasing my speed. Feeling so absolutely foolish, I just want to get home and soak in the tub with a bottle of wine and pretend tonight never happened.

  By the time I reach the intersection, Luke is hot on my heels, but in this moment, I realize God is indeed a woman, because someone is hopping out of a taxi two feet from me.

  “Ivy! Fucking wait!” Luke tries again, reaching for my arm, but I manage to yank it away from his grasp and he just stands there, staring at me in disbelief with grief filled eyes. “It’s not what you think,” he repeats, but I hold up my hand again, to stop him from continuing.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He shakes his head furiously, fisting his hands into his hair like he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

  He’s too late.

  I slide into the nasty plastic back seat and slam the door shut with authority, telling the driver to go. As we drive away, I can’t help but crouch down so I can turn and watch Luke without it being overly obvious about it.

  He’s running his hands through his hair still, and it looks like he’s cursing up a storm. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and that’s when the cab takes a turn and I lose sight of him.

  My phone rings in my hand and I realize I’m still holding it.

  Of course it’s him. Should I pick up? Hit ignore?

  Dammit!

  I hit ignore because I have nothing to say to him.

  I’m so worked up right now. So perfectly enraged that my vision is practically hazy with it.

  Sure I’m livid with him, but that’s not what really has me squirming uncontrollably in my seat. I’m so exasperated with myself it’s not even funny.

  When did I become this woman?

  When did I allow a man to unhinge me like this? Allow myself to become unglued at the sight of my ex-boyfriend on a date?

  Never again, Luke Walker. Never again.

  Chapter 29

  Ivy

  My phone rang a total of six more times and I ignored every single one of them. I realized last night that I don’t have a lot to say to him that hasn’t already been said. Our situation is what it is and that’s over. But in the back of my mind, in the darkest recesses of that vulnerable place we all like to pretend doesn’t exist, I was hoping he’d come to me.

  He didn’t, of course, and I continuously flipped back and forth between being relieved and disappointed.

  So I slept, albeit restlessly, but now I’m awake, antsy and unsettled.

  I debate getting up and heading to the gym in my building, but in the end, decide it would make me feel better to run some of this off in the fresh air. Grabbing my water bottle, keys, phone and headphones, I open my front door only to have something large and heavy tumble into my apartment.

  It takes me a second longer than it should to realize that Luke is the mass that just rolled onto my floor. It seems he slept in the hall outside my apartment last night, because he’s still wearing the same clothes I saw him in on his date.

  “Jesus Christ, Luke, get up.” I nudge him with my foot and he stiffly pulls himself off the hardwoods, stretching out like a cat. “Did you sleep out there all night?”

  He gives me a sheepish grin. “Yup. All damn night. And let me tell you, your door is really uncomfo
rtable. The hall floor isn’t much better either.”

  “And it never occurred to you to knock on the door, say what you needed to say and go home?”

  “No, because I knew you would just slam the door in my face and that wouldn’t do. I figured a sneak attack was the best approach.”

  His eyes rake over me, a wolfish smile slowly creeping up his face as he notes my sports bra and yoga pants.

  “Holy hell, you look hot. Are you going for a run?”

  “Please go home, I’m late.” I head toward my door, but he snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me into him, my back to his front. His nose sweeps up my exposed neck as he inhales deeply, making me shiver and I know he feels my response.

  “Cinnamon and vanilla,” he hums. “Did you know that’s my absolute favorite scent? Probably because it’s yours, but it really is something else.”

  Rolling my neck to brush him off, I yank on his firm grip, trying to get him to release me.

  “It’s not what you think,” Luke whispers into the shell of my ear. “The woman last night, she wasn’t a date. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the fact that you were jealous.”

  Jutting my elbow back, I connect squarely with his flank and he lets out a very satisfying oomph.

  “I wasn’t jealous you, tosser. What you do and who you do it with is your business, not mine.”

  He chuckles that husky chuckle of his and I erupt in chills.

  Damn him.

  “You’re a terrible liar, darlin’. Always have been, but I like that about you.”

  “Leave, Luke, I mean it.”

  He moves toward my front door, but at the last second, grabs me, pinning me against the wall the same way he did the other day at my parent’s house.

  “It wasn’t a date, Ivy. That woman was my sister, Elizabeth.”

  Oh. No wonder she looked slightly familiar. I realize now that they have the same eyes.

  Oddly, knowing he wasn’t on a date doesn’t make me feel any better.

  Luke’s forearms are pressed against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in once again. His face is so close to mine, his eyes dark glowing with desire and desperation.