A Twisted Love Story(20)

“Is that what Tanner said? That he would ban me?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t do that again,” she says. “Unless I have a reason to.”

Ivy looks at him, her eyes not wavering. Neither moves until the waiter arrives to take their order.

She has a lot of nerve—he’ll give her that. But this is what she does. Ivy pokes and prods, nudging him until he has no choice but to respond.

A few years ago, she’d done it with a guy named Patrick. They were dating, or maybe in a relationship, which she broadcast all over social media. Ivy and Patrick at a restaurant, Ivy and Patrick in the park, Ivy and Patrick at the movies. All big smiles and heart emojis.

Patrick was not the guy for her. He was the guy who would make Wes react.

One night, she posted a selfie with the caption Date night at Pearl! Convenient, letting Wes know exactly where she and Patrick were going to be. He almost didn’t show up. In fact, he made a huge effort not to. He went out to a sports bar after work with some coworkers, had a beer, watched a bit of the football game. No, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of showing up at Pearl. He wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

While he was at the sports bar, he saw a woman who vaguely, from a distance, reminded him of Ivy. She walked in with a man who vaguely, from a distance, reminded him of Patrick. They made him think about the real Ivy and Patrick, who were having dinner just a few blocks away.

Ivy was definitely trying to get his attention. But another thought had taken root, whispering in the back of his mind, making Wes start to wonder if this was something more. If she had really found someone else.

When he walked into Pearl, they were already seated. Ivy and Patrick smiling, laughing, drinking a glass of wine. Wes didn’t hesitate. He blew right past the hostess to their table, where he stood over them. And he lied.

“Well, if it isn’t Ivy,” he said. “How funny to see you here, since you told me you were going out of town.”

Patrick looked at him, then at Ivy, and then back to Wes. He blinked.

Ivy did not. She kept her face still, not appearing surprised at all. She turned to Patrick and patted him on the hand. Wes almost felt bad for the guy. He was the only one who had no idea what was happening.

“I told you,” she said to Wes, “that I never wanted to see you again. It doesn’t matter if I’m in town or not.”

Wes laughed. Sounded more like a bark. He was attracting attention, and it didn’t bother him a bit. “Oh, okay. If that’s how you want to play this, fine with me.” Then he turned to Patrick. “Good luck with her. But let me give you some advice from someone who’s been there,” he said. “Run.”

Wes walked out of the restaurant, betting that he would never see Patrick online again.

And he didn’t. Instead, he saw Ivy when she came into his office the next day. Did Wes deserve it? Maybe. But only because she pushed him. Provoked him.

Like she is doing right now, wearing that dress.

Sky blue.



* * *



—

Wes can hardly stand the smell of Ivy’s steak. He doesn’t eat red meat, hasn’t in years, yet she ordered it anyway. Another poke. She is full of them tonight.

“That detective came by my office,” she says, slicing off a bite of her steak. Medium rare, pink inside, and the juice oozing out.

“Karen Colglazier?” he says.

“That’s her.”

“You told her it wasn’t me?”

She nods. Vaguely.

“Ivy?” he says.

“She knows we spoke, yes.”

Not an answer. Not one he likes, anyway.

“She’s been looking into both of us,” Ivy says.

Wes glances up from his plate, for the first time not seeing her dress. “Looking into us?”

“Apparently, there isn’t enough crime around here to keep her busy. She dug back far enough to find that 911 call about your car.”

The old Subaru. Ivy had really messed it up that night. He’d had no choice but to call the police. Once he calmed down, he decided a police record was a little extreme just for a damaged car. They had fixed it, though. Vandalized a few other cars to make it look like it wasn’t personal. It’s not like the police care about property damage.

“But the charges were dropped,” he said.

“She knows that.”

He goes back to his meal. The salmon. “So then what’s the problem?”

“I’m just telling you,” she says, “because that’s what couples do. They tell each other about their day. You told me about Tanner, and I’m telling you about the detective.”

He feels like he’s being scolded. She’s good at that, too.

The frustrating part is that somehow she makes it sexy.





18




Every time. Every damn time.

Wes is sweet, he’s funny, he’s attentive. Wes is the greatest boyfriend in the world . . . until his mood changes. Like the time they had gone down to Monterey for the weekend. On the way back, his switch flipped. He ended up leaving her at a rest stop.

She hadn’t done anything. Not. A. Single. Thing. The only—only—thing she could come up with is that she had teased him for flirting with a waitress when they stopped for lunch. Some girl who looked nineteen, barely old enough for college, and Wes couldn’t take his eyes off her. Didn’t try to hide it, either. He wanted Ivy to see it.