"Sometimes, but I focus on the good things. On the stability they seem to have lately," Elena said honestly.
Always one to focus on the positives.
Then another thought crept in, unwelcome and persistent.
Eric.
Was he involved with the meeting? Was that why he was in Ironstone?
No. Eric was a blue collar man. Not some criminal mobster.
"What do you think brought Eric to town?" Elena asked, as if reading my mind.
I stiffened. "What?"
"Eric. Your ex. The one from the bar." Elena watched me carefully. "Do you think his big work opportunity was here? In Ironstone?"
"Who cares?" I muttered.
"You do, apparently." Elena's tone was gentle, not accusatory. "I can see you keep thinking about him."
"I'm not?—"
"Ivy." She reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. "He was always the one that got away. One of the good ones. The only good one, really."
My throat tightened. I hated how easily she knew me, how easily she could read me. Damn him, and damn her right now.
"He left."
"I know."
"He ghosted me without a word. After seven months of—" I cut myself off, shaking my head. "It doesn't matter. It was four years ago."
"But you're still thinking about him."
I was. Of course I was. Seeing him again had cracked open something I'd kept carefully sealed.
The way it had felt when he'd stepped in and stood up for me, protective and possessive. The dark intensity in his eyes when he'd looked at me. The years between us evaporating like they'd never existed.
I flagged down the waitress, needing a distraction. "Do you have cocktails?"
The waitress nodded. "Of course. What can I get you?"
"Something strong."
Elena squeezed my hand. "Ivy?—"
"Eric is not the one I want to care about today," I said firmly.
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a lie. When the cocktail came, I followed it with a glass of whiskey, and Elena didn't prod any further.
Good, I didn't want to worry about Eric and the what-ifs. I didn't want to think about him at all.
6
IVY
The TV flickered through another mindless show. I'd been home for an hour, sprawled on my couch in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, trying to find something, anything, to hold my attention.
