Chapter 6
IVY
The TV flickered through another mindless show. I'd been home for an hour, sprawled on my couch in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, trying to find something, anything, to hold my attention.
Anything to stop me from thinking about that tall, English prick with dark eyes and a devilish smile.
Nothing worked.
Fuck you, Eric.
My phone sat on the coffee table, screen dark but somehow screaming at me. Taunting me.
I didn't have his number anymore, I had no way of contacting him. Had I already tried to search him up on social media? Maybe. But it had been pointless. The bastard was a ghost.
"Why are you here now?" I muttered as I scrolled through a streaming platform, praying something would jump out. My gaze moved to my phone again.
Fuck it.
I grabbed it before I could think better of it, pulling up the dating app I'd installed months ago in a moment of wine-fueled determination. The same app that had brought me my recent spectacular failure of a date before Eric showed up and—
No. Not thinking about him.
I scrolled through the profiles, my thumb moving automatically. Men posing with fish. Men in sunglasses at every angle. Men with bathroom mirror selfies that made me question natural selection.
Then I stopped.
Cameron. Twenty-eight. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass, body that suggested he lived at the gym. The kind of pretty that knew it, that weaponized it. His bio was minimal, just a fire emoji and "here for a good time."
Perfect. A fuckboy was the best way to get my mind off Eric. And maybe I could snag a nice meal and fun from it.
I swiped right. The match notification came immediately.
That desperate, are you? a voice whispered in my head. It sounded uncomfortably like Eric's.
I shoved the thought away and started typing before I could talk myself out of it. Eric's stupid little English voice could fuck right off back to where he came. Prick.
Want to get dinner?
Cameron's response came fast.
I can think of better ways to work up an appetite
Of course he could. I rolled my eyes.
This is what I wanted though. A distraction. Maybe some validation too. Sue me.
Dinner first. Somewhere nice. Then we'll see about dessert.
Deal. Frank's Pizza on 3rd Ave at 8?
Pizza. Of course he was offering a low-grade dinner, something he wouldn't have to overspend on to get laid.
Whatever, I knew the place. The food was good, and it reminded me of the small place back in my hometown, so there was that too.
Frank's was probably one I'd class as being middle ground. Not too flashy, but not the equivalent of McDonald’s.
I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. Enough time to make myself look like I hadn't spent the afternoon drinking whiskey and overthinking my life choices.
See you there.
I arrived at Frank's Pizza fifteen minutes late on purpose, wearing a black dress that hugged everything worth hugging and heels that made my legs look endless.
My makeup was flawless but natural, and I had my hair up in a stylish bun.
I didn't want to look too good for this place, but I wanted to still feel like I'd put effort in.
Cameron was already at the booth, and he didn't disappoint in person. That jawline was even more devastating up close, and he knew it from the way he smiled when he saw me. Predatory. Appreciative.
"Damn," he said, standing and moving to allow me into the corner of the booth. It appeared he didn't want us sitting across from one another. His hand lingered on my lower back a beat too long. "You're even better than your pictures."
"You too." I settled into the booth, crossing my legs deliberately. His gaze followed the movement.
The waiter appeared with menus and water. Cameron ordered a bottle of relatively cheap wine without asking what I wanted, probably something to try to make it easy to get my dress off if he was an ass.
Joke was on him, I was here for the same reason, not something real.
"So, Ivy." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "What brings a woman like you to a dating app?"
"Same thing that brings everyone. Looking for something." I took a sip of water, meeting his eyes over the rim. "What about you?"
His grin widened. "I'm here for fun. I like variety. And I'm good at what I do."
Subtle.
The wine arrived. Cameron made a show of tasting it, nodding his approval like he actually knew the difference between a good vintage and boxed swill. Given the price point for it, I wanted to scoff.
The waiter poured for both of us.
"To new experiences," Cameron said, raising his glass.
I clinked mine against his. "To getting what we want."
His eyes darkened with interest. "I like the way you think."
He ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, and I went with a more expensive dish as well, the shrimp risotto, because if I was doing this, I was at least getting a decent meal out of it. Cameron's hand found my knee under the table before the appetizers arrived.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, fingers sliding higher. "I've been thinking about tonight since you messaged me."
I didn't move his hand away. This was what I wanted, right? Validation. Proof that someone found me desirable. That I could be wanted without strings, without history, without—
Without feeling anything.
The thought landed heavy in my chest.
Cameron's thumb traced circles on my thigh. "My place isn't far from here. We could skip dessert, get straight to the good part."
"We just ordered."
"I'll pay the check now. Who cares?" His other hand reached across the table, fingers brushing mine. "Come on. You know what you came here for."
Did I?
"I think I'd like food first. Keep my energy levels up," I said dryly, and he smirked.
"When you put it like that then…"
The appetizers arrived, but his hand remained under the table. Calamari for him, bruschetta for me. Cameron barely touched his, too focused on touching me instead. His hand on my thigh, my arm, my shoulder. Always moving, always claiming space.
I should have liked it. Should have felt desired, wanted.
Instead, I felt hollow.
"You're tense." Cameron's breath was hot against my ear as he leaned close. "Relax. I'll take good care of you."
Something in my stomach twisted. This was wrong. All of it.
But I'd committed to it, hadn't I? Made my intentions clear. Put on this dress, these heels, this mask.
The main courses arrived. Cameron cut into his steak, taking a mouthful before watching me over his wine glass. "So after this, your place or mine? Mine is close by."
Hence why you picked this spot. Cocky prick.
"I haven't decided yet."
His smile turned sharp. "Playing hard to get? I like that."
No. I wasn't playing anything. I was sitting here, trying to convince myself that meaningless sex with a beautiful stranger would fill the void Eric had carved out four years ago.
Pathetic.
I focused on my meal, trying to enjoy the dish when his hand crept under the table again.
He really had no restraint.
Cameron's hand slid higher on my thigh, fingers teasing the hem of my dress. "You're thinking too much. Let me help with that."
I was about to respond when movement caught my eye.
Eric.
He was walking toward our table, and the expression on his face made my blood run cold. He looked formal now, wearing a long-sleeved white tee and dress pants, and I hated how good he looked in it, even with the tattoos peeking over the neckline and scattered across the back of his hands.
"Can I help you?" Cameron pulled his hand back as Eric stopped beside us, looming over the table like judgment incarnate.
Where the hell had he come from?
"Ivy." Eric's voice was controlled, but those dark eyes were flickering. "We need to talk."
"We don't need to do anything." I kept my tone icy despite my racing heart. "I'm on a date."
"This?" Eric's gaze flicked to Cameron with pure disdain. "This isn't a date."
Cameron stood, puffing out his chest. "Who the hell are you?"
"Her boyfriend." Eric didn't take his eyes off me. "And you're done here."
"I'm not your—" I started.
"Boyfriend?" Cameron laughed, but it sounded nervous. "She didn't mention a boyfriend."
"She wouldn't. We had a fight." Eric finally looked at Cameron, and something in his expression made the other man take a step back. "But we're working it out. Right now."
"I want my money back," Cameron said, his bravado cracking. "For the meal. She promised—"
"She promised you nothing." Eric's voice dropped lower. Darker. "Walk away while you can."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm giving you options. Walk away, or I put you in the ground. Choose quickly."
The temperature at the table plummeted. Cameron's face went pale, and I saw the exact moment he recognized something in Eric that I'd never seen before.
Something dangerous. Something real.
"Fuck this." Cameron threw his napkin on the table. "Bitch wasn't worth it anyway."
Eric's jaw clenched, and I saw his already rigid form stiffen more. Was he going to punch Cameron? Defend my honor?
Thankfully, unlike Cameron, he had restraint.
Cameron was gone before I could process what had happened, practically running for the door.
I stood slowly, my hands trembling with fury. "How dare you."
"Ivy. Really?" He arched a brow at me, knowing exactly what I'd been here for, and it infuriated me. Or did he think I was here for the free meal? Bastard.
My palm connected with his cheek, and the slap echoed through the restaurant.
Eric's head barely moved. He took it, his jaw tightening, but he didn't react beyond that.
"How dare you," I repeated, my voice shaking. "Insinuate that I'm—that I would—"
"That wasn't what I meant."
"Then what the fuck did you mean, Eric?" I grabbed my purse, vaguely aware that other diners were staring.
Was he correct? Yes. But fuck him anyway.
"I wanted a meal. Some fun. I can pay my own damn way. I don't need you or anyone else telling me what I can and can't do."
"I know." He reached for my arm but stopped himself. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. Can we please just talk?"
"No."
I pushed past him, heading for the exit. My eyes burned, and I refused to let him see me cry.
"Ma'am, ma'am!"
I whirled on the waiter, who flinched, looking like they feared being struck.
"The bill," they mumbled, and I huffed. Of course Cameron bailed on the bill. Perfect.
"I've got it." Eric was quick to pull out a few hundred-dollar bills. "Keep the change, for the commotion."
Right. The commotion he caused.
I rolled my eyes and continued storming out, Eric right on my heels.
"Ivy."
"Fuck off, Eric. Leave my life, you're good at that!" I snapped over my shoulder as I stalked to my car, refusing to glance back at him.
"Ivy, please, let's just talk."
"Shove it up your arse, mate!" I shot back in my best British accent. It was enough to make him falter.
Was I being erratic and childish. Yes. But I was done with him and his stupid accent, stupidly perfect face, stupid gentleman behavior.
He needed to get bent.
I unlocked my car and climbed in, starting the engine and ignoring Eric outside. I reversed and pulled out, unwilling to even look at him as I got out on the road.
Why was he getting involved? Why was he here? Why was this hurting me so much?
I stopped at a set of lights and fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy as I pulled up Elena's number.
She answered on the second ring over the Bluetooth. "Hey, how was—"
"He ruined it." The words tumbled out. "Eric showed up and scared off my date and claimed to be my boyfriend and I just—"
"Slow down. Eric was there? At your date? You had a date?"
Right. I hadn't updated her on my potential one night stand since I knew she'd frown at it.
"Yes, I did. And Eric rocked up. He just appeared like some—some stalker and threatened the guy and—"
"Ivy." Elena's voice turned serious. "How did he know where you were?"
I blinked as the light turned green and I continued driving. "What?"
"How did he know where to find you? You didn't tell anyone about this date, right? ‘Cause I didn't even know."
A chill coursed through me at her words. I'd already considered it when I saw him there, but having someone else say it out loud was just icing on the cake.
"Has he been following me?"
"Maybe. It just seems too coincidental, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, fucking creepy actually. So now he's stalking me. Guess he wasn't all that good after all," I muttered.
"Come to my place. Jackson and I are having a quiet night in. You shouldn't be alone right now."
"No." I pursed my lips. "I just want to sleep. Forget this whole disaster of a day."
Was it actually that I didn't feel like third-wheeling their perfect little relationship while I couldn't even get laid due to my ex butting his head in? Maybe.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow."
I hung up before she could argue, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as I made my way home.
How dare Eric. How dare he show up, interfere, act like he had any right to my life after ghosting me for four years.
The anger carried me home, up the stairs to my apartment, and through my front door. I stripped off the dress and heels, scrubbed off the makeup, and stood under the shower in hopes that the heat would burn off some of my fury.
By the time I'd wrapped myself in my soft robe, the anger had faded to exhaustion.
I actually was tired now. Still annoyed, but there was no way I could get answers. Maybe I shouldn't have driven off, maybe I should have demanded to know more things from that bastard.
Like why he was following me. And if the big opportunity had been worth it all.
I padded to the kitchen for water when someone knocked.
Three sharp raps, confident and insistent.
I sighed, wondering if Elena had decided to force company on me tonight. I wouldn't put it past her.
The knock came again, and I grumbled softly.
I looked through the peephole, and my breath caught.
Motherfucker.
Eric stood in the hallway, holding flowers. White roses mixed with something purple I couldn't identify from this angle.
"I know you're there," he said quietly. "Please. Just give me five minutes."
"Go away," I snapped through the door.
"Five minutes, Ivy. That's all I'm asking."
I went to turn away and leave him standing there, but something in his voice stopped me. Something tired. Something that sounded like the Eric I used to know, before he became whoever this was.
My hand moved to the deadbolt, the need for answers overpowering my desire to hurt him back for what he'd done to me.
The door swung open. Eric stood there, looking somehow both perfectly composed and completely wrecked. His eyes found mine, and I saw too much there. Too much history, too much regret.
Too much that I wasn't ready to deal with.
"Five minutes," I said, stepping back to let him in. "Then you're out."
He nodded, crossing the threshold carefully and giving my place a scan. The flowers hung at his side, suddenly looking out of place against his dark clothes.
I closed the door, arms crossed over my chest. "Clock's ticking."