B00AAOCX2E EBOK (30 page)

“What are you doing here?” I asked when he put me back down. I looked to Ian, but his attention was back on the laptop.

“Ian mentioned he was coming over to work on the website, and I figured I’d come show you guys what I’ve put together.”

“Oh, okay.” I forced a smile. While Casey’s presence wasn’t unwelcome, I didn’t see how Ian and I were going to talk about what happened with Casey and Chelsea there. Was that Ian’s plan? I looked at him over Casey’s shoulder and caught his eye.

He shrugged, as if to say, “What could I do?”

I sighed under my breath. “Why didn’t you guys wake me?”

“Ian suggested we let you sleep a little longer,” Casey said, taking my hand and leading me to the couch. “He said you had a late night.”

My eyes flicked to Ian. “You could say that.”

“Is everything okay?” Casey asked.

I held Ian’s eye. “I hope so.” There was a question in my voice, and I wondered if Ian would answer it.

Sourness coated my stomach when his gaze turned opaque.
Yep, he thinks we made a mistake.

“So, you want to see the website?”

I looked into Casey’s eager face and nodded. “Sure.”

Casey’s laptop closed with a click and he leaned back in his chair. “Well, now that that’s over, I could use a beer. How about you guys?”

I rubbed my temples. A beer sounded fabulous after the last two mind-numbing hours. That’s how long it had taken us to compose our biographies and introduction because both of us had been so willing to comply with whatever the other wanted the introduction to say, that neither of us would express a definitive opinion.

Chelsea shrugged. “Sure.”

Casey winked at her, and turned to me. “What do you say, sweetie? They’ve got a live band and cheap beer on Sundays at The Dive.” As if that would entice me. The Dive was one of those places that lived up to its name. It was often remarked that one needed a tetanus shot after being there.

“I don’t know,” I said, shooting a look at Ian. We really needed to talk, now that our work was over.

To my frustration, Ian didn’t seem to feel the same urgency. He leaned down on the kitchen counter. “I’ll go. Do you know who’s playing?”

***

“Go talk to him.” Chelsea nodded to where Ian and Casey stood by the lit stage at The Dive. We were about ten feet behind them, sitting at a rounded wood table.

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“He’s made it clear he thinks we made a mistake and wants to pretend nothing happened.”

“Says who?”

“He’s hardly talked to me all night. If that’s not clear—”

“Isn’t it possible he’s waiting for you break the ice or waiting for some privacy?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t buy that. If he wanted to talk, he could have chosen to stay behind, instead of agreeing to come here.”

Chelsea shook her head, her brown eyes widening with disbelief. “So that’s it? You’re just going to let him make all the decisions? Let him call all the shots? Give him all the power?”

The irony of her statement almost made me laugh. “Really? You want to go there?”

Chelsea blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” I didn’t want to start a fight with her over something that wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that you’re not going to get him by sitting here, glaring.”

I scowled. “Whoever said I want him?”

“You did.” Chelsea grabbed my arm and tugged. “Go talk to him.”

I held tight to the table top. “Chelsea, I love you, but get off my back!”

“Fine.” Chelsea held her hands up in surrender and backed off. “Do whatever you want. Just keep in mind that if you put it off too long, things could go bad really fast.” She turned and took off in the direction of the bar.

While I would have preferred to sit and stew over it, I couldn’t ignore the truth in what Chelsea said. Maybe instead of being stubborn, I should go over and talk to him. Just to test the waters, break the ice… whatever one wanted to call it.

Taking a fortifying breath, I peeled my forearms from the sticky table, and slid off my stool.

My legs quivered as they carried me across the nasty floor. This place was totally gross. I stopped beside Ian and nodded my head to the beat of the music, watching him out of my peripheral vision – waiting for him to take notice of me. About five seconds passed before he looked my way. “Hey.” He gave me a short nod and turned his eyes back to the stage.

“Cool band, huh?” I asked. I couldn’t tell you if they were any good or not. I hadn’t paid them or their music a lick of attention since we’d arrived.

Ian leaned down closer to my ear. “They’re not bad. I first saw them here a few years ago. They sucked back then.”

“Really?” I asked, trying to sound interested. “I take it they’ve improved?”

“Huh?” he shouted, leaning in even closer to hear.

“I take it they’ve
improved
?”

“Yeah.”

I puffed out a breath. What had Chelsea been thinking? Talk? We could barely hear each other.

Ian turned to speak to Casey. A second later, he glanced back down at me. “We’re going to get another drink. You need anything?”

Was he trying to get away from me? It sure felt like it. I shook my head.

He started to turn, and I tapped his bicep. “Wait.”

Brows lifting, he leaned his ear closer to my mouth.

“Are we okay?” I asked outright before I could talk myself out of it.

He hesitated before lifting his head. “Yeah, of course we are. Why wouldn’t we be?”

It might have been more convincing if he had actually looked me in the eye while saying it.

My stomach plummeted into my ankles as I watched him head off to the bar with Casey. I just stood there, staring after him, feeling small and stupid and sick to my stomach.

I have to get out of here.

“Have you heard from Ian?” Chelsea asked two days later as we carried our Starbucks drinks and scones to one of the tables in the central union eatery.

“No.” I pointed at a table and she nodded.

“Wow. I’m sorry I pressed so hard for you to talk to him. I guess… well, I just expected more from him when it came to you.”

I pulled out my seat, and plopped down onto it. “I did, too. Goes to show what I know.”

Chelsea sat and looked at me over her coffee cup. “You’ll see him at work tonight, right? Are you going to talk to him?”

“And say what? How do I even start a conversation like that?”

Chelsea rolled her eyes, as if it was obvious. “‘Hi, Ian. How are you? So, we slept together the other night. We should talk about that’.” She shrugged. “It may not be the best lead in, but it’s a lead in.”

Sadly, it was better than anything I had.

“
Hola
, chicas!” Amery said as she bounced over to our table and dropped into the chair beside Chelsea.

“Hi,” I said with forced cheerfulness.

Chelsea smiled. “Hello.”

Amery’s brow wrinkled as she looked between us. “Am I interrupting something?”

I shook my head just slightly at Chelsea, imploring her not to say anything.

“Not at all,” Chelsea said, holding my eye for a moment before turning to Amery.

“What’s up?” I asked and lifted my scone to take a bite.

“Nothing.” The sparkle in Amery’s eyes faded for a moment, before popping back into place. “I mean, yes! There is something. I’ve decided on a Mardi Gras theme for Casey’s birthday party. I need some help picking out decorations. You two game?”

“Now?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fat Tuesday is a week away. I want to buy the supplies before all the good stuff is gone.”

Chelsea grimaced. “Sorry. I have a seminar in forty minutes, otherwise I totally would.”

“Ivy?”

I didn’t have much else to do. “Sure.” After all, it had to be better than going home and feeling sorry for myself.

“Great.” Amery jumped to her feet. “Let’s go now. Time waits for no woman.”

I stood and waved to Chelsea. “Enjoy your seminar.”

“I will. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. Let me know if...” her eyes wavered to Amery before she continued, “
anything
changes.”

I almost laughed. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.”

***

When Amery set her mind on something, nothing would stand between her and her goal. She’d pull out all the stops to see her vision come to life.

Such was the case in Casey’s birthday party.

I leaned against a shopping cart in the Mardi Gras aisle of the party supply store, listening to Amery criticize the quality of the materials. “I mean, the beads are okay, I suppose, but these foil masks are so cheap and garish.”

“I think I saw some with feathers and sequins on the way in,” I said, “but what’s wrong with the cheap foil ones? It’s a college party, not a Masquerade Ball. Besides, isn’t Mardi Gras pretty much defined by its garish decorations?”

“Perhaps in New Orleans, but not in
Casa de Archer
. I want this to be a party to remember.”

I was willing to bet Casey would have just as good of a time with a close group of friends, but didn’t bother mentioning that to Amery.

“So, what were you and Chelsea talking about earlier?” Amery asked as she studied a bag of star-shaped beads.

I captured my lip between my teeth. I’d been expecting this since we left the Union, but for some reason, I was reluctant to tell her. “Oh, it was nothing important.”

“Yeah, but what was she talking about?” Amery prodded. “About wanting to know if anything changed?”

I decided to give her a very watered-down version of the story. “Ian and I are fighting. She just wants to know if I talk to him. That’s it.”

“What are you fighting about?”

“It’s kind of private. Just between Ian and me.”

Amery studied my face with a pinched mouth. “And Chelsea?”

How could I explain that Chelsea only knew because she’d been there? I couldn’t, not without explaining what “there” was. “Amery—”

“Never mind.” She looked down into the cart. “Before we check out those other masks, let’s make sure we have everything here first.”

I reached into the basket and sifted through the supplies, calling each out so Amery could check them against her list. “Napkins, shot glasses, 300 strings of beads, six bags of chocolate gold coins, fifty of the bottle invitations, ten bags of confetti, Zydeco and Cajun CDs, and the balloon order form.”

“You know, I have streamers on here, but do you think it’s absolutely necessary I get them?” Amery made a face at the crepe-paper rolls. “They’re just so tacky.”

“Necessary? No, but nothing says ‘party’ like streamers.”

“I guess.” She exhaled, picking up three bags of each of the official Mardi Gras colors of green, purple, and gold and tossing them into the cart. “But I draw the line at these stringy table skirts. I want real table cloths. Do you think the caterer will carry them in Mardi Gras colors?”

My brow lifted. “Caterer?”

“Of course. I can’t have a party without some kind of food, and I don’t know how to cook Cajun. I called the French Quarter Bistro this morning, and gave the owner a list of the foods I want. She’s going to call me back at four with a quote.”

I shook my head in wonder. Amery was taking throwing a birthday party to a whole new level. “What kind of foods?”

“Jambalaya, shrimp gumbo, rice, sweet potatoes, Cajun spiced chicken, swordfish, and sausages. Not full meals, but hors d'oeuvres. And a king’s cake for the cake, of course.”

“Does Casey even like Cajun food?”

“I don’t know,” Amery said, her brow crinkling as if she hadn’t even considered it before that. “But the food has to match the theme. That’s why they call it a ‘theme’.”

“Okay, it’s your party,” I said, shutting up.

“It’s
Casey’s
party,” Amery corrected, her voice sharpening. She glared at me for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Let’s go look at the other masks.”

I followed Amery with the cart to the front of the store. I knew not to take her irritation too personally. Over the years, I’d come to accept that when one was raised as a princess, as Amery had been by her nanny, she was bound to have her princess-moments.

“These are more like it,” Amery said as she spotted a display of masks with varying combinations of glitter, feathers, sequins, beads and ribbons.

“What about this one for Casey?” I asked, holding up a funky gold mask with a long, down-curving nose. I gave her a bright smile, trying to drag “Cheerful-Amery” back out.

Amery scrutinized the mask for a second with narrowed eyes. Finally, an uncontrollable grin stole over her face. “He would love it, wouldn’t he?”

***

I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I got home and stretched out on the sofa. I attributed at least half of that to not sleeping well the night before; the other part was a result of my afternoon with Amery.

I know I’d brought the tension on myself. If I told Amery what was going on, the friction could have been avoided.

I just couldn’t chance her saying anything in front of Ian. I didn’t want him thinking I was telling everyone, or making a deal out of it.

But it is a big deal. A very big deal.
I hugged my arms to my chest. The way Ian treated me the other night hurt. It hurt so damn bad that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. My face twisted and I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the pain back.

I needed sleep. I wasn’t going to lose any more over this.

No sooner had I begun drifting off into unconsciousness than an alarm blared in my head. My eyes flew open and a burst of adrenaline took flight in my bloodstream.

Fuck me! I have a date in an hour and a half!

I sat up and brought shaky hands to cover my eyes. I’d pretty much forgotten about my date with Jayden as soon as I’d gotten off the phone with him on Saturday, what with my anger at Ian eclipsing pretty much everything else. And then, with all that had happened, I hadn’t thought of it or him since then.

“What do I do?” I asked the empty room. Go? Cancel? It seemed a little late to do that. And did I really have a reason to cancel? Sure, my heart wasn’t all that into it at the moment, but it was just a first date. It didn’t have to turn romantic, and I knew it shouldn’t, not when my head, heart and soul were in such a state of disorder.