17. James
17
JAMES
I vy had been a little distant the past few days, even when I invaded her space to ask questions about the Christmas dinner I was hosting. I didn’t pry, and I didn’t push her to talk, but I did feel partly to blame. It was Christmas Eve, and instead of being at home with her family where she should have been, she was at my house finishing plans and making sure the event staff were coordinated.
Years past, I'd watched Barbra float around the house and bark orders, and I knew it was possible for Ivy to handle everything on her own, but it was my party, not hers. I should have been the one there doing the last-minute arrangements. She was just the planner and coordinator. I was the host.
And as the host, I wanted to make sure she felt valued for her part in this. Yes, I paid her, but after everything she'd been through and the fact that it was Christmas, I felt compelled to buy her a trinket to show my gratitude.
"This one is beautiful," the petite woman with dark hair standing behind the jewelry counter said. She held a barrette in her hand. The gems on it sparkled and danced under the light, and her smile was as bright as the twinkles.
"It is pretty…" I said, but I wasn't sure it was quite perfect. I had my eye on the barrette that was shaped like a butterfly and dripped with diamonds. It probably cost more than Ivy's entire wardrobe, but it was simple enough that she could pull it off without anyone knowing it wasn't paste. I'd have bought her an entire new wardrobe if she'd let me, but I didn't want her to think she wasn’t enough the way she was.
"What about that one?" I asked, pointing at the one I had in mind, and she clicked her tongue and set the other one down on the glass display.
"It's for someone special, then?" she asked as she reached into the case. "You realize this is nearly three carats in princess cut diamonds? They're natural…" Her eyes swept up to my face, and I lifted my eyebrows in annoyance. It wasn't often that my word was questioned, but this woman didn't know me. This impromptu visit hadn't been scheduled.
"I'm not sure…" I told her, questioning my own reason for buying this. Ivy was special, just not in the way this woman insinuated. At least I didn't think. So we had sex a few times, and sure, we hit it off in conversation every time. But even when I questioned her about what was going on between us, neither of us had a clue.
We'd both just gotten out of bad relationships, and more than anything, I just wanted to see her succeed. My heart was invested in making her happy, helping build her company and confidence, and allowing her to be herself without any strings attached.
I plucked the barrette from her hand and turned it back and forth under the lights. I pictured it in Ivy's beautiful warm brown hair and smiled. She would look stunning.
"Sir, this barrette costs forty grand. She'd better be special, or you're a fool." Her chuckle, followed by a snort, told me she really had no clue who I was. I laid it back on her palm and straightened. I took my wallet out and slid my Visa across the display case with one finger.
"I'll take it, and add gift wrapping too, please."
Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at the card and back up to my face. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carver, I didn't…" She swallowed hard and shook her head. "I'll take care of this right away, sir," she said as she scurried off with my card.
I chuckled at her being so flustered and thought of Ivy when she got flustered. The way her lips would flush dark and her cheeks would brim with crimson. It made me smile like a fool in love, and I realized I was. I was starting to fall in love, or what I thought was love back at one point in time. The rush of excitement to be around her, the giddiness over how she turned me on and made me feel young again.
But I couldn’t get carried away or let my heart feel this. This wasn't love. I learned that from Ivy. Love was more than hormones and chemistry. It was commitment, and something deeper, something mysterious I couldn’t put my finger on yet. I just knew what I wanted—to keep that smile on her face as much as possible.
"Here we are, sir," the woman said when she returned. She slid my card back to me with a receipt. Then she showed me the options for wrapping paper and gift boxes. There were ribbons and cards and even gift tags to choose from, and I stood there for a good thirty minutes, agonizing over everything when finally, she said, "Well, for as much as you're fussing over this, that woman must be special. If a man did this for me, I'd marry him."
She waltzed away with my final selections, leaving a warmth in my chest I couldn’t shake. I didn't think of this as a romantic gesture. I just wanted it to be perfect so that when Ivy opened it, her eyes would fill with tears and she would feel like the strong, capable woman she was. I wanted to see her smile, and I wanted her to feel beautiful and confident every time she clipped it in her hair.
I spent the entire ride home knowing I would give this to her tomorrow, and now my agony was different. What if she hated it? What if she thought I was being manipulative by giving her expensive gifts? She was a simple woman with simple tastes. Perhaps the less expensive emerald barrette would have been better.
Or worse… What if she had the same reaction that woman had? What if Ivy thought this was a declaration of love? What if I was sending a signal I wasn't quite ready to send?
I hated how I always overthought everything. And I hated how every action could be judged individually and interpreted differently by different people. This was just a thank you gift, right? I was just trying to support and encourage a woman who was very down on her luck, nothing more.
So why did my heart feel like I wanted Ivy to react the way that woman said she'd have reacted?