Chapter 45 Alexander
Alexander
It hadn’t occurred to me to be nervous. A bit anxious and excited, yes, but I’d been busy enacting my plan.
Now, though, as I watch Ivy, looking as stunning as ever, she stares at me, and I see the cogs turning in her mind.
I’m nervous. Why is it I expected her to feel differently than when she left me in London?
Distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.
What can I say to show her I meant it when I said I would give things up for her?
“I bought—” I begin, but my words seem to have woken her and she’s running toward me. She jumps into my arms so hard and so fast that I have to take two steps back to avoid us becoming better acquainted with the floor. “—a house here.”
“You’re here!” she says into my ear, as her cheek presses against mine. Then she leans back to look into my eyes. “And you … what?”
“I bought a house here.”
“Why? I mean, really?” She puts her feet on the floor but keeps her arms around my neck. I pull her to me.
“There is no place I’d rather be. I have one more film I’m contracted to be in, but after that, we’ll figure it out.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she repeats breathlessly.
I look over Ivy’s shoulder where the restaurant staff, her family, and the Parkers stand. “I want to kiss you, but we have an audience.”
She didn’t even glance their way. “I don’t care if you don’t.” She tilted her chin up toward me, and I meet her the rest of the way. As soon as our lips touch, it’s coming home. It’s right. It’s good. It’s everything I could ever want. It’s rain on dry land.
Ivy threads her fingers through my hair, and I pick her up again. Claps and cheers fill the air, and I feel Ivy smile against my lips before she speaks. “Maybe we need to wait for a more private moment to have a proper hello.”
I loosen my hold on her, so she slides slowly down my body.
“I like the sound of that.” Before we go visit the crowd, I cup her face in my hands.
“I don’t know when I’ve ever been so happy.
” I lean down and kiss her forehead, then stay close, keeping my words soft. Just for us. “I love you, darling.”
“You do?” she whispers, almost as if she can’t believe it.
“I do. I know it’s fast, but that doesn’t make it untrue. And I certainly don’t expect—”
“I think ...” she interrupts, then takes a slow breath. “I think I love you too.”
My heart absolutely pounds in my chest with the need to kiss her again, heedless of our audience.
I bring her lips back to mine, then wrap my arms around her.
She moans softly against my lips as she squeezes me tighter.
It takes all my willpower to keep from picking her up and carrying her somewhere more private.
Instead, I dip Ivy low like we’re dancing, not breaking the kiss. The crowd roars again, and it’s enough to bring us out of our little bubble. I bring her upright once more and say, “I’ve got some people for you to meet, then I want to try your grits.”
The Parkers are, as I knew they would be, completely smitten with Ivy, and the feeling is entirely mutual. Ivy gave them a tour of the kitchen until patrons began trickling in. When she asked us what we wanted to eat, Mrs. Parker told her to surprise us, then winked at me.
We took a seat in the booth closest to the kitchens, because I wanted to have the best chance to glimpse Ivy as often as possible. Surprising her at the opening sounded all well and good until it was time for her to get to work.
She brings out coffees for the Parkers and tea for me. It’s prepared just how I like it. She was paying attention.
It isn’t long before she arrives with our breakfast. “I brought you each my current favorite,” she said, setting a bowl in front of each of us.
“It’s grits with scrambled eggs, and a sweet potato, bacon, and kale hash.
And a bowl of bread,” she adds, setting a bowl of cloth-wrapped bread in the center of the table.
Mrs. Parker peels back the cloth. “Biscuits and muffins!”
“Yep,” Ivy says with a grin.
“Are they blueberry?” Mr. Parker asks.
“They are. We have other flavors at times, but these are a staple.”
Mr. Parker grins. “I love blueberry muffins.”
“I love this place. I haven’t eaten a bite, but I already love it,” Mrs. Parker says, picking up her fork.
The look on Ivy’s face is so pleased, so ecstatically happy. She loves what she has done here, and now I can fully understand why she didn’t want to leave it.
“I love it too,” I say. “This place is amazing. Is it odd to say that I’m proud of you?”
She grins and bends to kiss my cheek. “Nope.” She straightens. “I wanna see you try your grits before I get back to work.”
“It’s a bit scary to try something with an audience,” I say, then push my eggs aside to get to the grits underneath. I watch Ivy as I bring my fork to my mouth, her clear green eyes never leave mine as I take my bite.
Delicious. Smooth and creamy. Just the right amount of saltiness.
“I had no idea what I was missing.”
A grin spread across Ivy’s face. “I knew you’d like them!” Her response is loud, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The Parker’s laugh.
“This is all absolutely delicious,” Mrs. Parker says, using her fork to point to her bowl.
Mr. Parker nods as he takes a second bite of his muffin.
“Thank you,” Ivy says. “I’m so happy y'all are here.” She eyes me particularly, and I swear, my heart sprouts wings and floats around in my chest.
She goes back to work, and I see her moving through the kitchen three times before she’s out again, winking at me as she passes our table. I see her four times before she is out again, and squeezes my shoulder as she passes by. I’m staring toward the kitchen when Mrs. Parker clears her throat.
“I think we’ve sat here long enough. There are people waiting.”
I look over my shoulder and, sure enough, the restaurant is full and there are several people waiting around the hostess stand near the door.
I give Mr. Parker my credit card. “I’m sure Ivy won’t let us pay, but I want to. Will you take care of it while I tell her goodbye?”
He salutes, and I take off toward the kitchen with a smile.