Planning for Love (28 page)

Maybe some self-enforced house arrest would be the only way to get any peace and quiet, Ben thought as he whaled away on the heavy bag. He’d rather hole up in his room for the rest of the day than endure any more unwanted soul-searching from his friends. Hell, he’d rather go sit at O’Hare for the next twenty-four hours than sit through another conversation like that.

* * *

“Bennett? Are you decent?” Before Ben could answer, Julianna let herself into the hotel room. Cursing under his breath, he cinched the flimsy towel around his waist a little tighter. He held his ground at the threshold of the steam-filled bathroom.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? How did you get in here?”

“Gib gave me a key.” She lifted the thin plastic card and waved it in the air. “Said he was quite sure you wouldn’t let me in, and he believes you need to hear what I’ve got to say.”

Great. Another person who thought they had the right to tell him how to live his life. Should’ve gone to the airport and parked on a barstool after all. “What is this, a fucking intervention? How many of you are going to come and butt your noses into my business?”

“I don’t know.” She closed the door and planted her sensible black flats right by his bare toes. “How long will it take you to rip the blinders off your eyes and face the truth?”

Christ. They were in Chicago—at this rate Dr. Phil would be the next one through his door to talk some sense into him. The redhead picked the wrong day to pick a fight. If she didn’t get out in two minutes, he’d call security and have her removed. Ben braced his hands high up on the doorframe, leaning his bare, still-damp chest right into her face. Maybe the sheer power of his naked masculinity would scare her off.

“Here’s a cold, hard truth. You’ve never liked me. I know it’s because you think I hurt Ivy back in April, and you wanted to protect her. Believe it or not, I get it. I respect you for looking out for her. But I’ve had more than my fill of people who actually like me sharing their thoughts today. I’ll be damned if I’ll stand here and let someone berate me who treats me with disdain on the best of days.”

“I’m sorry.”

He’d expected an unending string of vitriol. Maybe a slap in the face, accompanied by a lot of cursing. Threats of dire retribution if he ever contacted Ivy again. But not an apology, of all things. Shocked, he dropped his arms and took a step back. “Come again?”

Julianna inclined her head with its smooth, short caplet of crimson hair. “I’ve been a stone cold bitch to you. Kind of became a habit. You didn’t deserve the daily dose of animosity I dished out. So, I’m sorry.”

Interesting twist. He didn’t know what to make of it. “Fair enough. You going to let me put on some clothes now?”

A flush almost as bright as her hair stained her cheeks. She backed into the hallway. “Sorry.”

“Geez, that word just flows like water out of you all of a sudden. What gives?” Ben stalked past her and grabbed his orange cargo shorts off the bed. Took a beat to consider the fun of the shock value, deemed it the only bright spot in a miserable day, and dropped his towel without warning Julianna. Then stifled a chuckle when he heard her gasp. That’d teach her to barge into a man’s room without asking.

“Well, first of all, I truly am sorry for the way I treated you.”

“Duly noted.”

“And second, I want to make sure you listen to what I’m about to say.”

Ben zipped his pants, then pulled a yellow polo shirt over his head. After this, he was definitely checking out of the Cavendish. Immediately. “Fine. Spit it out.”

Taking a few, tentative steps, she eased over to the desk and put her hand out for support. “I always thought you were selfish. But I never realized until today that you were self-sabotaging as well.”

Unbelievable. An apology like that might as well come with a side of cruise missile and a body bag. “We’re done.” Hand on the small of her back, he ushered her to the door.

“Wait, I started wrong. I’m sorry.” She threw herself back against the door, palms flat and fingers spread.

“Those magic two words only get you so far.”

“I know. I’m nervous, because this is so important. Let me start over: I think you’re perfect for Ivy.”

Ben peered at her pupils. They seemed an appropriate size. But she sure acted like she was on something. “Are you high? ’Cause it’s the only logical explanation for hating me, and yet saying I’d be the perfect match for your sainted mentor.”

“I’m serious.” Her words rushed out like rapids skipping over rocks in a river. “You rubbed me wrong at first. And you’re right, I only wanted to protect Ivy. But you make her so very happy.” Slowly, she eased off the door. When he made no move to stop her, she retraced her steps to sit in the leather desk chair.

“I made Ivy happy for a while. Past tense.” Ben stayed in the doorway. He didn’t want to give her any impression that she was welcome to stay.

“The thing is, though, she makes you happy, too. I’ve got a unique vantage point. I’ve been able to watch you, watching her. Day in and day out. And you know what?” She sighed deeply and put a hand over her heart. “You both light up like Christmas trees when you look at each other.”

He didn’t want to hear this. He hadn’t wanted to hear Sam spout off about his career, or Gib talk about his happiness. But most of all, the one thing Ben wanted to accomplish all day, was to not hear about his relationship with Ivy. “Lust is sort of like fairy dust. It makes everything sparkle. For a while. Then it fades away.”

She shook her head. “Might’ve started as lust. But it grew. You’re right for Ivy. Walking away from her is a selfish, hurtful thing to do. The thing is, Ben,” she steepled her fingers and rested her lips against them for a moment, “it hurts you just as much. I know your heart is broken into as many tiny pieces as Ivy’s is right now.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” The words wrenched from his throat. If he wanted self-reflection, he’d go stand in front of a mirror. “I do. I know the longer I stay, the more I’ll end up hurting her when I finally leave. Because I will, sooner or later. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.” Belatedly, he realized he’d echoed the same words he tossed at Sam earlier, in reference to his job.

“It might be who you were. But every day is a chance to start fresh. You and Ivy love each other.” Julianna popped out of the chair and stood with her hands on her hips. She looked pissed, and on the verge of yelling at him. Familiar territory. He knew she couldn’t keep up the penitent act for very long.

“Ben, take your head out of your ass long enough to admit it, if only to yourself. Think about how you feel when she looks at you, when she laughs with you. Then ask yourself: Can chasing your old dreams down memory lane make you feel that good? Give you a happy ending?”

She’d tested his patience enough. “You want to know the only way to get a guaranteed happy ending? Tip an extra twenty percent at a massage parlor. In fact, thanks for the idea. Now I’ve got a plan for my afternoon.” Ben opened the door and stood with a hand on the knob. “Unless you care to join me, your time’s up.”
That
sent her scurrying down the hall past the bathroom. His luck ran out when she stopped in front of the mirrored closet doors.

“When little kids are scared of the monster in the closet, you know what the parents do? They open the door. Prove there aren’t any monsters. Well, you’re scared of being happy. So what would happen if you opened the door on your fear?” With that parting shot, Julianna left.

Ben slammed the door behind her. Then he yanked open the closet door so hard it came off its rails. If it meant registering for standby on three different airlines, it didn’t matter. He’d do whatever it took to get out of this town tonight. And, God willing, never come back.

Chapter Twenty-One

The highest happiness on earth is marriage.

—William Lyon Phelps

Ivy scanned her appointment book. No more meetings today. Only a quick flinch as her eyes skipped over the words
dinner with Ben
she’d drawn a heart around earlier in the week. Refused to give in to the temptation to scratch it off the page with the dull tip of her letter opener. When she woke up for the second day in a row stuffy from a night of tears, realization dawned. Her whole, elaborate plan for love came about because she’d followed her passion. So how could she fault Ben for following his?

Being mature about his decision to leave didn’t mitigate the pain, but it did allow her to face herself in the mirror this morning. That is, until she glimpsed the black circles and swollen redness caused from a night of wallowing. She’d flinched away from the sight faster than a vampire near holy water. Ivy checked her watch. Right on the cusp of four o’clock. Shut down the computer, picked up her purse, and threw open the door to her office.

“Time to celebrate,” she yelled down the hall. That should get everyone’s attention.

“Didn’t expect to hear those words come out of your mouth for a while,” said Daphne. She stuck a handful of greens in her apron pocket and trailed after her to the reception area. “Aren’t we still in the early days of Misery and Mourning Month?”

“Yes and no.” Ivy plopped on the sofa, carefully arranging the myriad pleats in her favorite apple-green skirt. Standing in front of her closet this morning, she’d decided dressing up to be the best way to distract from the redness in her eyes and enormous bags underneath. “While I appreciate the effort you and Gib went to, coming up with an official name for my ongoing pathetic sadness—”

“At great personal expense,” Daphne interrupted. “That fourth bottle of cabernet just about killed me. My headache didn’t go away until an hour ago. But friends don’t let friends drink alone.”

“Hope you’re ready to tie one on again, tonight. I promise this time it’s for a happy reason.” Which is why she’d insist they all celebrate. You’d think somebody died, the way everyone tiptoed around her in the two days since the abrupt and heartbreaking interruption to the party. While thoughtful and caring, their careful concern made her want to scream.

Thinking about Ben made everything hurt, from deep inside her heart to the tips of her freshly painted green nails. Ramdish, her yoga teacher, said the color green helped protect and heal the heart chakra. So today her panties, bra, nails, earrings, skirt, and even the bow in her hair were all the same color of a lush, late-spring leaf. While the ensemble had netted her a compliment from a drag queen sharing her morning commute on the El, so far Ivy’s heart didn’t feel even a little bit healed.

Daphne flopped down next to her. “We’ve got four events this weekend. I, for one, need to get some sleep. Two nights on tear patrol’s worn me out.”

She never would’ve made it through the last two nights without Daphne, who let Ivy curl up and cry herself to sleep in her bed. “Have I mentioned you are the best friend ever?”

“Repeatedly. Especially every time I brought you another box of Kleenex.”

“It bears repeating.”

“Well, I love you.” Daphne gave a quick, one-armed side hug. “We all do.”

“Not all,” Ivy corrected with a twist to her lips. “It’s thanks to your support I can admit that, actually. I love Ben. I can’t turn my love off just because he’s gone. And he can’t turn love on like a faucet, either.” All this self-analysis made her heart ache. But Ivy figured it was like leg aches after going to the gym—a necessary evil. “Do I want my happily ever after to come right now? Yes. I’m sick of waiting. Except that, if he doesn’t return my love, neither of us would be truly happy.”

Daphne gaped at her. “Did you call a talk radio therapist in the middle of the night?”

“Even better. I looked through an old scrapbook. Pages of boys, and men, I fell for—some part way, some all the way. To figure out where I went wrong with Ben, I thought about why none of those relationships worked out. Starting with Derek Dillow back in the eighth grade.”

“The ridiculous last name had to be a factor,” guessed Milo.

“It didn’t help.” Nor did the fact she’d lapped him while swimming three days running. Some guys couldn’t take a little healthy competition. “One of us was always more in love. And that never works. Both people have to be equally head over heels. No matter how hard I try, I can’t force Ben to love me.”

Daphne heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. And I’m both proud of you, and sad for you.”

“Me, too. And as of this moment, I’m going to leave all my moping out of the workplace. Now we celebrate. Except,” Ivy did a double take of the office, “where’s Julianna? Why isn’t she here to share in my moment of triumph?”

Milo cleared his throat. “She never came back after lunch. Mumbled about how she lost a crown on one of her molars. But I guess her dentist squeezed her in, because she just texted me. Wants you to meet her for drinks in Wrigleyville. In half an hour.”

Ivy beamed at him. “You guys are the sweetest. What did you do, sign up for shifts to take care of me? Well, this works out perfectly. We’ll all go. Do our celebrating with Julianna, as it should be.”

“You want to close the office early? Your news must be big. Milo, circle this one on the calendar,” Daphne said with a lazy wave of her hand.

“Very funny. I’m too excited to work.” She leaned forward to execute a mock drum roll on the coffee table. “Mira said yes. She accepted my offer to manage A Fine Romance.”

Milo whistled through his teeth. “Good going, boss.”

The phone call had been a balm to her bruised heart. It gave Ivy something to focus on aside from her endless wellspring of tears and heartache for Ben. She acknowledged her massive, strategic error. Learned her excruciatingly painful lesson—planning for love was impossible. But she could damn well plan for her business.

“We’ll fly her out next week to get the lay of the land. Then she’ll get started ordering merchandise while she ties up all her loose ends in Boston. Said she can be moved here completely by the end of August.”

Daphne pulled down the side of her mouth in a grimace. “Isn’t that cutting it close to the big opening?”

“A little.” A lot, actually. “But Mira will be doing a lot on her end. And now that I have one fewer distraction in my life, I can spend all my spare time working at the store.” Hopefully the long hours would give her something to think about other than how much she loved Ben. Or how worried she’d be every second he stayed in Darfur. Or how hopeless life looked now that he was gone.

Daphne leaned her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “Honey, you can’t bury yourself in work. It isn’t healthy. You’ll burn out.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine faster if we all raise a glass to my new store!” She’d read somewhere that sharks have to keep constantly moving, even while sleeping, or they died. True or not, it perfectly embodied Ivy’s approach to surviving this week. If she didn’t keep moving, talking,
doing
, then she’d burst into tears and never stop. Ooze into a pathetic puddle of wretchedness.

According to Gib, Ben had left town this morning. But she’d felt wholly alone since the moment he’d walked out of the ballroom. Since he’d flung the love she offered right back in her face, without so much as acknowledging it. And, in fact, denying its very existence. Maybe he’d been right all along not to believe in happily-ever-after. Ivy certainly didn’t believe it to be in her future anymore.

* * *

“Wrigleyville’s an odd choice,” Daphne complained. “We never come here unless we’re at a Cubs game.”

Ivy elbowed her. If Julianna was going to go to all this trouble to cheer her up, then Ivy would make darn sure to at least project the illusion it worked. That meant everyone had to be cheery. Even Daphne, who’d griped the entire train trip about the turnstile prematurely eating her metro pass. “Keep an open mind. You know Julianna devours restaurant reviews like you do seed catalogs. I’m sure she’s nosed out the newest, hottest spot in town.”

“Her text did say she had something to show you,” said Milo. “I’m thinking wine bar.”

“Across from Wrigley Field?” Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Fat chance. My guess is a gourmet burger bistro. I hope they have duck fat fries.”

Ivy couldn’t think about food. She’d forced down a few slices of pizza last night, and a cup of yogurt this morning. But it was hard to eat with her stomach twisted in enough knots to tie up an ocean liner.

Shining like a beacon, Julianna’s red hair bobbed ahead of them on the crowded sidewalk. She spotted them, waved, then frowned. “What are you doing here?” she called out as they approached.

Odd. “Meeting you for drinks. Or burgers. Daphne’s convinced you’ve found us burgers.”

“I only invited Ivy…” her voice trailed off. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then glanced sideways at the large tree next to her.

Hmm. Julianna could be very proprietary at times. “Well, I asked the rest of the office to tag along. We’re celebrating.”

“Maybe.”

“Cryptic much?” said Milo.

“Sorry.” She laughed. “Guess that’s my word of the week. As a matter of fact, I do know a great burger place around the corner. Ivy, meet us there when you’re done. And good luck.” She linked her arms through Daphne’s and Milo’s and rushed them across the street.

“Why do I need luck?” Ivy shouted after her.

“I think that was aimed at me.” Ben stepped out from behind the tree. Dressed in a pale blue shirt and cargo shorts, he looked perfectly normal. Except there was nothing normal about him being here, on Clark Street, instead of on a plane bound for another continent.

His presence hit her on a physical level. All the air rushed out of her lungs, as swiftly as if he’d punched her. Gasping, she cradled an arm around her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

He twisted his lips into a wry grin. “Kind of a long story. Would you prefer I start with I’m a jackass, or go straight to I’m sorry?”

“The jackass part is self-evident. And I don’t believe you’re sorry about anything. You have to care to feel sorry. Goodbye, Ben.” She didn’t make it two steps before he snagged her arm.

“Hear me out. Please.”

So hard to think with the welcome pressure of his fingers back on her skin. “I heard more than enough from you the other night. In the middle of my parent’s anniversary party, in case it slipped your notice.”

A nod. Then another. “Feel bad about that. It’s why I took your mom flowers today.”

Although she honestly had no idea what he wanted to say to her, that wouldn’t have made it into her first hundred guesses. It definitely rooted her in place. “You visited my mother?”

“You bet. Took her an armful of lilies, to make her office smell nice. I apologized. Then I apologized again. I think she finally forgave me somewhere around the fifth apology. I’d fallen into a good rhythm by then.”

Shock didn’t begin to describe her reaction. What did it all mean? “I thought you didn’t do parents.”

He shuddered from head to toe, swishing his golden hair against his collar. “I don’t. That is, I don’t do just anyone’s parents. Yours are special. Dropped in on your dad, too.”

None of it made any sense. His words would make as much sense if he switched to speaking Swahili. Why break her heart, leave, but come back to make up with her parents? “You’ve been busy.” His thumb slowly stroked the back of her arm. Ivy tensed against the soft caress.

“Well, I made the mess. Had to take the time to clean it up. David put me through the wringer. Took twice as long to come around as your mom did. His apology present stumped me for a while, but Julianna helped out there. Recommended a bottle of Laprohaig. Went over like gangbusters.”

Maybe she was hallucinating. Lack of food and lack of sleep all caught up with her, and she was actually passed out on the floor of her office. It was the only rational explanation. Because in real life, Julianna would never help Ben do anything. “How does Julianna fit into this apology tour of yours?”

“Another long story. Let’s just say she opened a door for me, then helped me walk through it. Then helped me orchestrate my apology tour, and a few other odds and ends.”

Ivy interlaced her fingers tightly. It was the only way to keep from reaching out, stroking the golden skin of his forearm. If she let herself touch him again, she’d probably burst into tears. For the four hundredth time. She still had enough pride intact to not want to fall apart in front of Ben. “Why? I don’t understand. You’re not even supposed to still be in Chicago.”

“Well, I packed. I checked out of the Cavendish. Took a farewell walk along the lakeshore. Sat at the airport for about ten hours. Then I remembered one last, critical thing I had to do before leaving town.”

“What might that be?”

“Grovel.” Finger by finger, Ben unclasped her fingers, then threaded his own through. He led her over to a bus bench. “See, I remembered the first time I walked away from you. I swear, I did it to avoid hurting you. Didn’t work. Backfired horribly, despite my good intentions. When I came back, we just sort of worked things out. I never apologized for hurting you. Truth be told, I’ve never stuck around before long enough to have to apologize.”

He sounded different. He sounded aware his actions caused repercussions. It didn’t sound like Ben at all. Ivy stared at the streaming traffic, rather than drown in the sea of his eyes. “It was very considerate of you to apologize to my parents.”

“They were the warm-up act. I came back to apologize to you. To grovel, on my hands and knees, if that’s what it takes. To convince you to take me back.” He cupped his hands around hers, and held on tight. “Because I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been a stubborn idiot. I’m sorry I said all those horrible things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry when you offered me your love, I didn’t grab onto it with both hands and hang on tight. Please forgive me, and give me another chance.”

It sounded too good to be true. He was saying everything she wanted to hear. Which naturally made her suspicious. She’d been miserable the first time he left. The second time, she was barely holding herself together. Ivy knew she wouldn’t survive a third rejection. “Why? What’s changed so drastically in two days?”