13. James
13
JAMES
T he meal on the table in front of me was delicious—I'd have returned it had it been low quality—but I felt hollow. I'd been in Chicago for the past week on an unavoidable business trip. Each year, this tech conference came up, introducing the latest innovations that would hit store shelves in the following year but featuring options for folks to buy for Christmas that current year. This year, I was a spotlight speaker, which meant there was an even greater demand on me to be present.
But I felt alone.
Since the first week of November when Ivy moved into my home and started planning my events for me, we'd taken dinner together almost every evening. There were a few times when I had other obligations and once when she visited her family near Thanksgiving, but the routine of having our evening meal together had been set.
Tonight, hundreds of miles from home, I missed the banter and exchange of speaking with her over our meal. She had a way of helping me end my day on a high note, and after being exhausted by speaking and sharing all day and walking around looking at other companies' progress in the industry, I felt like the grumpy version of myself that Barbra left.
I stabbed the steak with my fork and brought it to my mouth and let the savory meat melt on my tongue as I thought about Ivy Hart straddling my hips and me devouring her. She'd been so drunk that night, I knew it was borderline inappropriate. And in fact, she acted so natural around me following that night—never once bringing it up—that I feared it had even escaped her memory. I didn't have the guts to fully bring it up in case she felt like I'd crossed a line. It was the farthest thing from my mind.
But I remembered.
God, did I remember—every little detail. I doubted she'd have thrown herself at me like that if she were sober, though. I'd made it very clear to her how much of a failure I thought I was in my marriage. I had spelled it out in detail how I ignored Barbra and left her neglected at home while I worked my fingers to the bone. Any woman with a head on her shoulders would run for the hills, which only told me that if Ms. Hart were actually interested in me, it was for my body. It clearly wasn't for my money. She was shellshocked and hesitant when it came to my investing in her firm. I thought I was going to have to twist her arm to accept my money.
But bodies break down, and I felt like an old man. The greys at my temple told anyone my age. There was no logical reason a twenty-something would want to date a man my age, even if they did get turned on while drunk and throw themselves at me. Ms. Hart deserved a man who would cherish her, one without hangups and flaws. I had to get it out of my head that she was interested in me for a relationship and realize that what happened only happened due to the wine she'd consumed and had nothing to do with me as a person.
But my dinner time was still lonely. I'd managed to keep myself busy the entire week so I didn't miss the interaction as much. I knew if I let myself get so used to the routine that I was missing her after a few days, when she left my home in February after the Valentine's Day event, the real loneliness and isolation would settle in. I had to break the habit soon, settle in to my life of mourning a lost marriage.
I just didn't want to start that yet.
So I picked up my phone and called her. Any other trip, I'd have called Barbra to see how she was doing. The call would be flat and dry. She'd list off the shows she watched on TV or the decorations she put up around the house. I'd tell her how my meetings were boring and I wished I were home. We'd fall silent and the call would end. But the instant the line connected, I knew this call with Ivy would be different.
"James," she said, sounding breathless. "Sorry, I'm just getting a workout in. What can I do for you?" She was panting, and I pictured her glistening with sweat wearing nothing but a sports bra and spandex, just like that morning in my kitchen.
"I apologize, Ms. Hart. I was just calling to check on how things are going…" And to hear your voice , I should've added, but I didn't. As much as I wanted to, I had to restrain myself from pursuing her. She deserved a young man with his whole life ahead of him, not someone like me.
"Things are great. The work party went well. Sam's a sweet guy. He helped me get everything finished up. And things are on track for your party here, too. I have the whole house decorated, and I even had them put up lights outside—don't worry. Very classy. Nothing tacky." She snickered, and the tinkling of her laughter made me smile.
"You are so beautiful when you smile," I said aloud, and I instantly wished I hadn't. Picturing her with a smile on her lips was a bad idea because it made me talk without thinking, but she really was beautiful.
"James," she said in a tone that suggested she was embarrassed or discouraging my comment. Or maybe she just had a hard time accepting compliments. Some people were like that.
I looked forward to seeing many more smiles on her face too—when she finally picked her name for her company, when it became a reality, settling in to a new office space, buying her first company car. There were so many firsts ahead along with the smiles to match them, and I had assured myself a front row seat by investing. I wasn't sure whether that was going to be good for my heart or not, but it was a fact now.
"It's true," I said softly. And to save myself, I added, "And you do fantastic work."
There was a pause on the line as I heard her catching her breath, and then she spoke. "I never got a chance to fully thank you for your offer to invest. I think I was so overwhelmed by emotion, I lost myself for a while. It's been strange not having you here, but I should have offered my gratitude a long time ago."
I knew without a doubt that she had lost herself, and I had too. We'd done it together that night in my limo, and watching her face as she came undone around me was exquisite, the most beautiful I'd ever seen her.
"I think you showed me your gratitude already… though that wasn't necessary." My heavy insinuation that the sex was her gratitude toward me was wrong. I knew it was. I shouldn't have said it. I didn’t want her to think I had offered to invest just to get her in bed with me. Hell, I didn't even know if she remembered a thing about it.
"I, uh…" I thought she was going to end the call and run, but she continued and it surprised me in a nice way. "I had a really great time that night."
I smiled, wishing I could see the expression on her face. "I think it was one of the top ten greatest nights of my life." That was a phrase I wasn't ashamed to say because it was true.
"Uh, I should… I need to finish my workout." She sounded flustered, and I pictured that blush spreading across her cheeks.
"Goodnight, Ms. Hart. Sleep well." I heard her mumble a quick goodbye, and I ended the call.
Dammit, my heart was getting carried away and I knew it shouldn't. She was just so perfect, and I wanted to make all of her dreams come true. Which was why I had to get control of myself because I knew dating a man who was already halfway to the grave wasn't on her list of top ten greatest things of her life.
Ivy Hart was incredible, and incredibly out of my league.