5. James
5
JAMES
I t was odd the way Ivy's friend jetted out the door after my invitation for dinner, but they seemed tense when I walked out of my office and startled them. I chalked it up to their having a spat and nothing more and escorted her to the dining room.
The smell of roast and vegetables wafted through the air to greet us, and Marna was already setting the table. She smiled as we walked in and said, "Good evening, Mr. Carver, Ms. Hart." Her polite nod was always accompanied by that same smile. Marna seemed to never miss a beat, though I knew she was just as human as the rest of us.
"Thank you for the meal, Marna. You can go home now. I'll make sure Ms. Hart is well cared for." I pulled out Ivy's chair for her as my maid thanked me for the dismissal. She headed back into the kitchen, and I sat at the head of the table to Ivy's left.
"Wow, this smells so yummy." Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at her plate full of food. It was normal for me to eat homecooked food daily, and I was pleased that Ivy was enjoying it too.
"I assure you, it is." My cloth napkin snapped in the air as I shook it out and draped it over my knee. "How are things going with the plans?" I asked Ivy, and she settled in to eat and chat with me.
We'd been dining together each evening. As my guest, I found it only fitting to invite Ms. Hart to enjoy a meal. Besides, I hated eating alone, and it was a great opportunity for us to stay up to date on all the festivities. Ivy had a lot of irons in the fire, but she seemed well on top of things.
"I am finishing the plans for Thanksgiving. It's a huge task to take on. I’m shocked your wife was able to manage it on her own." Her comment made me tense, but I tried not to let it show.
Thinking about Barbra was no longer a pleasant thing. I used to sit and think about her while I worked and wonder what she was doing. I’d send her a message or have a quick call. We talked a lot more in the beginning, but the busyness of life and my work just got in the way and we stopped thinking of each other as much.
"Yes, well she had my entire staff too," I said, but it came out more like a grumble.
"Gosh… I'm sorry." Ivy's head dropped, and I felt bad for discouraging her. It was all so fresh to me, and there was no way she could have known I'd react poorly to that, but her head popped back up. She smiled and continued. "I think you'll love the seating charts this year, and I have the cutest little cornucopias coming from Canada. Oh, and the Riesling will be sweet—straight from Germany. I think you're going to love it."
I chuckled as I took a bite of roast and admired her sass. She seemed to have it all together. When she started talking about Christmas and how my entire home would be transformed into a winter wonderland complete with snowed windows and Elf on the Shelf, I paused my eating to admire again how she made it all seem so easy. Every year, Barbra complained about the modest things she did to prepare our home for the holidays. Ivy seemed to love it.
"And the Valentine's gala?" I asked her. This one was what I was nervous about. I had dumped so much money into securing the venue and the caterer, not to mention the invitations which had to be completely redone now. My friends would be shocked to hear I was not only not renewing my vows, but in fact, a divorce was underway or would even be final by then. I wanted lots of wine on tap for all those romantics to drown their sorrows in.
"Well, I have a bit of time. I've been focusing on the events that are closer, but I'm thinking we transform the entire thing into a masquerade. What do you think? We'll have a photo booth with a photographer to do portraits, and everyone will wear masks, just like in Victorian France." Ivy's eyes sparkled as she spoke, and I could tell she was really getting into this.
"You're not just a wedding planner, Ms. Hart," I told her, pointing my empty fork at her. "You seem to be really enjoying yourself."
She sipped her wine nervously, and I watched her cheeks flush pink. It was adorable. In fact, she was gorgeous when that happened. Her shy embarrassment at taking a compliment was a turn-on for me. It made me want to lavish her in more praise just to see her blush again.
"And you handle the stress of it all so well. How do you do that? Barbra used to hate…" I realized my fumble before it was out of my mouth, but I couldn't stop it.
Ivy's expression sobered to one of compassion, and she reached out and touched my hand softly. "It's okay. You can talk about her if you need to. I know the holidays will be rough for you. I don't want you to think I'm trying to purposefully outdo her or anything." Her fingers lingered on my hand, and I noticed how she looked into my eyes with such empathy.
"It's okay." I smiled curtly and sucked in a breath, but I ended up talking despite my reservation about it. "Barbra and I just weren't going to be able to make it work. We lost that spark a long time ago and I never could rekindle it."
She finished her glass of wine, and I refilled it for her, then topped mine off too. Things were quiet for a few minutes as I watched her take a few bites, then she looked up at me and asked, "What went wrong?" Her honest question sounded more like a wish for hope and understanding, not nosiness or prying. I could see the look in her eye that begged an answer, as if she herself wanted to believe in love again.
"Well, we were good in the beginning, but somewhere along the line, I just stopped giving her as much attention as she wanted. I was busy working and trying to build my tech firm. She wanted more, so she found someone to give her attention and?—"
"Oh, God, she cheated on you?" Ivy brought a hand to her lips and covered her mouth as I nodded slowly and then dropped my head.
"I thought she was happy doing her yoga classes and scrapbooking clubs. I didn't realize she needed more time with me than just evenings and weekends. I found her with him and then…" I stopped. She didn’t need those details. "Anyway, I tried my hardest to forgive her and look past it, accept my own part in the blame and move on, but she was done."
Ivy stared down at her plate as she set her fork on the table and her shoulders drooped. "I feel like that's me too. I mean…" Her eyes rose to meet mine and she said, "Mike was just domineering from the beginning. I wished he'd have let me be a bit more independent like you were with your wife, but he just controlled everything. I need to be my own person and have the ability to make choices for myself. He just never saw that."
For a moment, we held each other's gaze, and it felt like we were on the same wavelength. Ivy had just been through more than a bad breakup. Maybe she wasn't with this Mike guy as long as I had been with Barbra, but they shared a business venture and I knew that was hell to untangle.
"I'm certain you deserved it. Unfortunately, what I gave Barbra wasn't to her liking and she made it known."
Ivy rubbed her eyes and then smiled at me sadly. "I always thought love was what you give to someone, not what they give to you. I mean, sure, there's an aspect to someone treating you well in return, but love is free. Or it should be. Love should be what you give, not what you expect. I don't think I ever loved Mike." Her frown as she looked back down at her half-eaten food told me all I needed to know.
I sighed and draped my napkin over my empty plate and stood. "I should escort you to your room."
"Ah, a magical after dinner walk to cure all that ails me." She took my hand and rose, letting the napkin draped over her knee fall to the ground. It was then that I knew she was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and I chuckled at her comment.
"If I had that magical touch, I would definitely cure any ails you have." My chest fluttered as she wrapped both arms around my bicep and rested her head on my shoulder. It'd been a long time since a woman had touched me like this. More than a year, in fact. Barbra was never the clingy type physically, either.
"I would definitely let you touch me," Ivy said, and she snickered and then started laughing so hard she snorted.
I was flattered that she, being so much younger than me, was flirting with me like this, but I didn't put a whole lot of stock into what any drunk person said to me. Even if it was a gorgeous younger woman making a pass at me in my own home after a dinner that got intimate.
"Let's get you to bed," I told her, patting her hand, and she looked up at me dreamily.
"James," she said, and then she paused speaking, though we continued to move through the house toward her bedroom.
"Yes, Ms. Hart?" My hand remained wrapped around hers on my arm, and the slight haze of alcohol in her eyes cleared.
"Why don't you call me Ivy? Everyone calls me Ivy." We stopped outside her door, and I opened it for her and flipped on the light.
"Goodnight, Ms. Hart," I said softly.
I got her into her room and shut the door, then retreated to my room and shed my clothing before climbing into bed. As I let the stress of the day fade out of my body and sleep crawl closer, I thought about what Ivy said at dinner. Love is free .
Love should have been what I gave Barbra our whole marriage, championing her and being there for her. But I had spent so much time nurturing my dreams and not her. What she did was definitely wrong, but I didn’t really set her up for success because I never truly loved her. I liked how she made me feel. Maybe I never loved her at all, not even a little.
That was something I needed to learn to do if I was ever going to be successful in a future relationship. And I had Ivy to thank for teaching me that.