Chapter 42 Ivy
Ivy
I don’t know how my contractor has managed to do all he has in such a short amount of time, but here we are—not even a month after returning from our trip—and the restaurant is nearly ready to reopen.
It’s like he had an army in here working while I was gone.
And I cannot describe how shocked I was walking in after we got home.
The place was stunning. And it’s come together even more in the past few weeks.
It’s exactly like I wanted. Better, really. It looks as if it were professionally designed, not pieced together by someone on vacation, and a contractor who’s been wearing what appears to be decades-old work clothes every time I’ve seen him.
However this has been accomplished, it’s a dream. The perfect representation of the past, with just enough modern touches to be stylish and practical. I love it.
“Anizey, I’m tired of carrying things up the stairs.”
“You’ve made three trips, Peter.” I shake my head, smiling down at my nephew. “And I thought you were an athlete.”
He and Juniper had protested hard when, three days ago, I had let the family know that I was going to be moving back into my apartment. I think maybe this is his last-ditch effort to keep me around.
“Buddy, you can come visit me anytime.”
“It’s not the same. And what about breakfast? Yours is so much better.”
I’d begun cooking family breakfast when we got home from England. It gave me a reason to get up and moving. I wasn’t really needed at the restaurant, although I went every day. I much prefer making decisions in person, not that there was much deciding to be done at that point.
“Who says I’ll never be at breakfast? And you all can come here and eat anytime. Just tell your mom to let me know.”
“Fine.” He takes his not terribly heavy-looking box and heads up the stairs.
I would miss being with my family, but I was very excited to get back to my apartment.
The restaurant wasn’t the only thing now more beautiful.
My place only needed painting and new flooring, but the updates really made a difference.
I went shopping yesterday for new curtains and bedding.
It is going to be my little cozy retreat.
I’m heading toward the back to get another box from the back of Val’s minivan when there’s a knock on the restaurant’s door.
A man is standing there holding a large cardboard box.
I run to let him in. As I unlock the door, I look across the street and find two paparazzi still lingering, hoping to spot Alex, or the two of us together.
When I first came to the restaurant after arriving back home, there had been twelve out there.
I guess they’re slowly catching on to the fact that Alex isn’t around and won’t be. There isn’t a story here.
“Delivery for Ivy Hawkins.”
“That’s me.” Curious, I’m not expecting anything. Probably something the contractor ordered.
“Good thing you’re here; this is supposed to stay temperature controlled.”
Curiouser.
He set the box on a table near the door. “If you’ll sign here, I’ll be on my way,” the man said cheerily.
I scrawl my signature on his tablet, thank him, grab the box, and run to the back.
No time to waste when you’ve got a mystery box of possibly perishable goods.
I run a knife along the tape and pop the box open. Inside is a styrofoam cooler completely filled with Crunchies.
“Alex,” I whisper, then sigh. I unwrap a Crunchie and take a bite while collapsing onto a stool.
“Ivy! We’re not carrying all your stuff upstairs without you!” Val rushes into the kitchen like she’s been looking for me.
“I got a delivery.” I take another sadly delicious bite.
“What in the world?” she says, looking into the box. “Did you order these?”
“Nope. Alex said he was going to send me a bunch to sell in the restaurant. I assumed he wouldn’t, or that he’d forgotten.”
“Guess he’s the kind of guy who does what he says he’s gonna do.”
“Yeah.” He really is. He’s someone I could trust, and I left him.
“Man. I wonder how many are in here.”
I shrug. “You should have one. They’re delicious.”
Val pulls one out of the box and begins unwrapping it. “So how are you feeling?”
“Not great.”
“This is so good,” Val says through a bite. “Sorry you’re not feeling great. Wanna talk about it?”
“I miss him. I’ve been keeping myself so busy so I wouldn’t think about him, but I keep thinking of things I want to tell him. Or having random memories.”
“But having evidence of him thinking of you is harder, I imagine.” Val takes another bite.
“Yes. He’s so thoughtful and so kind. And I trust him. You know that’s a big deal for me.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t realize how much I trusted him until now.
I mean, he had to have ordered this recently, right?
We’ve been home awhile. So he remembered what he told me, and even though I did what I did, he did what he said he would.
But I know I trusted him before. He never gave me a reason not to.
” I stand and begin pacing around the kitchen.
“You didn’t trust him when he told you he would give things up for you.”
“I believed he would. I just didn’t want him to have to.”
“Maybe he had weighed the cost and knew it was worth it. He told you he loved you.”
“He did.”
“I bet he still does.”
“After how I rejected him and left? You should have seen his face. I think I broke him too much for him to still want to be with me.” I stop by the box and unwrap a second Crunchie. “Maybe I made a mistake. But it’s too late.”