“Wes turned down a ticket to the Warriors game tonight,” she whispers. “He told Marcus he had a date with Ivy.”
“Ivy?” Tanner says.
“He told Marcus she’s his girlfriend.”
Bianca watches his face. A roll of his eyes, followed by a quick shake of his head.
“That’s not good,” he whispers.
“No?”
“No.”
He smiles.
She smiles back. And she winks.
16
Ivy wipes the steam off her bathroom mirror. She had left work a little early to shower and get ready for dinner, which is a good thing. Choosing the right products always takes a bit of time, because Wes has a thing about smell. Not a big fan of perfume. One time she wore Poison—a heavy, spicy scent—and he almost gagged.
“You don’t need to smell like a bouquet,” he once said. “Just fresh and clean and . . . like you.”
He never understood that smelling like that takes work. Natural doesn’t mean product-free.
The name of her lotion is Pure; the scent is so light it almost doesn’t exist. Next, the makeup—all neutral, all the time—and finally, her hair. He doesn’t have a preference about either of those, though once when she had her makeup done for a fancy party, her eyelashes scared him a little. He got over it.
She would never tell Wes this, but getting ready for the date is sometimes the best part. That’s when the whole night is open to every possibility, both good and bad. Which way the night goes and how it gets there is still unknown. It feels like a tingle, a faint hum that runs through her veins, right alongside her blood.
The anticipation never gets old. She hopes it never does.
The sky blue dress hangs outside her closet, her beige shoes on the floor beneath it. As she slips into both, the hum grows a little stronger.
Tonight will be a good one. That’s her feeling about it. If it’s true you can manifest your reality just by picturing it and sending it out into the universe, then it might even be better than good. It might be spectacular.
Although she still hasn’t decided if she should tell him about the detective. She will eventually, but tonight may not be the right time.
* * *
—
Maxwell’s is located downtown, right between an old Hallmark shop and an upscale bakery for dogs. Fair Valley in a nutshell. A sleepy, out-of-the-way town that has exploded because tech industry money has spread across the state.
Wes’s car is parked right out front, which makes Ivy smile. She drives past it and grabs the first open space.
One last check in the mirror before getting out. She isn’t gorgeous. Regardless of whether they admit it or not, women know when they’re exceptionally good-looking. And they know when they’re not.
But she doesn’t have to be gorgeous. Just pretty enough for Wes.
Maxwell’s is considered fine dining, or as close as any restaurant in Fair Valley gets, so the lighting is low and a fancy hostess is standing at the door. Ivy smooths her dress as she walks to the table.
Wes is waiting, the wine list open in front of him. She is still ten feet away when he senses her. Or maybe she’s wrong about that. Maybe he senses someone is walking toward him.
He looks up and smiles at her. Until he doesn’t.
The smile disappears from his face, replaced by shock. Then anger. There is no look she knows better.
She has no idea why.
“Here you are,” the hostess says. She gestures like they’re on a game show. Here he is, your prize: one angry man.
Wes snaps out of it long enough to get up and hold her chair. Once Ivy is seated, the hostess hands her a menu and walks away.
“Hi,” Ivy says.
“Hi.”
She gives him the biggest, realest smile she can manage. “Good to see you.”
Wes sits across from her, elbows on the table, hands folded, wine list forgotten. He looks at her, his eyes shifting from her face to her dress and back again. “Nice dress.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you get that for tonight?” he says. “Just for me?”
The edge to his voice makes her pause. He isn’t asking what he really wants to know. He’s asking something else.
“It’s new, yes.”
“Thought so.” Even sharper this time.
“Is there a problem with it?”
“Oh no,” he says. The sarcasm is thick. “No problem at all.”
A waiter arrives to take their drink order. While Wes chooses a wine, she looks at the menu. Salmon is what she always orders—it’s one of her favorite dishes—but tonight it won’t be enough. Something is brewing. All her senses are on high alert, preparing for whatever is coming, though she has no idea what it is. Feels like a puzzle wrapped in an electric fence.
She scans down the entrée choices, finally landing on prime rib. The kind of thing you eat before heading into battle.
17
Tanner recognized you in the office yesterday,” Wes says. The words spit out of his mouth, flying across the table and landing on Ivy.
Yes, he had decided. This is a perfect time to tell her about Tanner.
“Really?” she says. “I didn’t see him.”
“He saw you.”
She shrugs a little, like she couldn’t care less. Wes watches the sleeve of her dress rise and fall back into place.
Only a few hours ago, he thought things would be different this time. That they wouldn’t go down this road again: playing games, trying to hurt each other. They’ve had a great week together, and not going to the basketball game tonight had been a no-brainer.
Until she showed up.
“Tanner remembered you,” Wes says, “from when you were in the office before.” He lets that hang there, allowing her a chance to see where this is going. It doesn’t take long for her to remember when she nearly destroyed his office.
“I see,” she finally says.
“If you do anything like that again,” he says, “you’ll be banned from the building.” He could’ve said it better, nicer, but he didn’t want to.
“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.