“I think you know. Good night, Kelli Jelly.”
I think I knew too, but I didn’t want to admit it. “If you say so. Good night, Manda Panda.”
I set my phone down and sighed. Charlie took that as his invitation to come and pounce on me. For some reason, he loved lying on my abdomen. As I lazily stroked Charlie, I tried to process the day, especially what my sister had just said. At first, I lied to myself and told myself I had such a strong reaction to working with him because obviously, I wanted that job and felt I deserved it. But the truth wouldn’t be ignored. My heart asked me what if someone besides Ian had gotten the job? The answer was I would be drowning myself in a hot fudge sundae now, but I wouldn’t be unemployed. I would have put on my game face and kept doing my job the best I could. I would have done my best to welcome the new blood.
Speaking of hot fudge sundaes, I got up and traded my clothes for a night shirt before I made my way to my kitchen and pulled out my dad’s old recipe for hot fudge. I needed my dad’s lawyer mind, or just his arms. I missed him so much. His life had been cut too short by a brain aneurysm. We were told he died in a matter of minutes. Our only consolation was that he died doing what he loved, defending the weak and the innocent. My dad was my hero. He could have been a wealthy man if he had wanted to be. He was a brilliant attorney, but he only took paying cases so that he could take more pro bono ones. Don’t get me wrong, we lived a good life, but we weren’t spoiled, except in the ways that mattered most.
I stirred the hot fudge on the stove to the perfect consistency, all while trying to self-diagnose. I had come to terms a long time ago with the fact that Ian didn’t love me. I knew when I told him, so many years ago, he probably wouldn’t reciprocate. His favorite line was, “I’m crazy for you, Kelli,” or sometimes, “You drive me crazy, Kelli.” Sometimes he meant that endearingly, but I knew I did drive him crazy. We were very different people, but that was what I loved about our relationship.He helped me enjoy quiet, simple pleasures, like nature hikes and art museums. He even took me fishing once. And I managed to get him to be loud and crazy occasionally—like when I dragged him to the Festival of Colors, and we threw colored chalk at each other. Another time I pulled him up on one of the campus benches and made him slow dance with me for everyone to see, just because I liked the song playing on my iPod. He used to give me a look that said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” and then he would kiss me as if to say, “I’d do anything for you.” Maybe that’s why I thought he might return the sentiment.
We were happy together. I mean, truly happy together. As different as we were, we never fought, and there was never any drama. That’s why it took me so long to get over him. When he walked away, I felt like someone had removed all the oxygen from the air. Foolishly, I thought he only needed to come to terms with it and he would realize it didn’t change anything. I expected him to come back that night, or at least the next day, because surely he missed me like I missed him. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t even answer my phone calls or his door when I went to talk to him. He had removed me from his life permanently, with no thought at all.
With my large bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with the best hot fudge sauce ever, I sat back down on the couch and did a little bit more digging into Ian’s past. It probably wasn’t a healthy thing to do. I had never had any desire to research old boyfriends, and I had tried very hard never to know anything more about Ian. That’s why I let my relationship with his sister fade away. I’d always regretted that, though, because we really were like two peas in a pod. But I couldn’t stand the reminder of Ian. Even if we didn’t talk about him, she was a reminder of that pain. Oh, well, he was here now, so I guess it wasn’t going to hurt to pry.
I started with IAG, Inc. I assumed that stood for his initials. His full name was Ian Anthony Greyson. His dad’s name was Anthony too, but he went by Tony, because Anthony was too formal for a cattle rancher. It looked like Ian started IAG ten years ago. Initially it started with a free web-based project management tool. From the sounds of it, it became well used and garnered the attention of investors.Interestingly enough, Miles Randall, his ex-wife’s daddy, was one of those investors. From there, it looked like IAG developed several web-based business solution products, ranging from project management to accounting and even marketing. I always knew he was borderline genius and would make it big.
I wondered if he’d met the socialite first or the daddy. I had to say, I really was surprised by his choice of wife. Of course, the timing was right on his schedule. He thought he should be married somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty. That was the optimal age in his mind. He figured he would be well enough into his career, but not too far in. That was important because he didn’t want a woman who was only attracted to his paycheck. Looks like he got his wish as his ex-wife came from money. I used to laugh at him and tell him not to overthink things. I would also tease him that I would never marry him for his paycheck. He would always clear his throat when I said things like that, but he would never acknowledge it. I should have known then that he never thought I’d be the one he would marry.
I, on the other hand, thought it was perfect. When he was twenty-nine, I would have just graduated from college. He would have never had to worry about me marrying him for his money because I fell in love with him as a poor grad student. Too bad he wanted big boobs and a wealthy wife. I looked down at my smallish chest and lamented, “Thanks a lot, girls.”
It looked like the only part of his plan that hadn’t happened was children. He wanted two children, maybe three, and they were to be spaced two and half years apart; he read somewhere that was the most optimal time for the children and for the mother’s health. He wanted to be done having children by the time he was forty.
I laughed at myself.
Why I remembered all this nonsense, I had no idea. Okay, I had an idea . . . It was because I had pictured myself so many times as Mrs. Ian Greyson, wife and mother extraordinaire. Obviously, I had been young and delusional.
As I kept scrolling through pages, I wondered why he got divorced. I couldn’t find any additional information other than it washim that filed for divorce and cited the catch all: irreconcilable differences. The only thing I found of interest was Miss Boobs was already remarried to a guy named Timothy Oberman. I wondered if that bothered Ian and if he was still in love with his ex-wife. I don’t know why I wondered.
I practically licked my bowl clean before I called it a night and turned off my laptop. It had been a very long and weird day. It felt very surreal as I lay in bed and waited for sleep to come. All I could think about was Ian. The old Ian, the Ian I used to love. The Ian that made me study charts for finals and supplied me with Diet Pepsi during said finals, even though he thought it wasn’t good for me. The Ian who would call me in the middle of the night because he had a brilliant idea and he had to share it with me. The Ian who had worked extra hours so he had enough money to buy me a birthday gift, an expensive perfume I adored. It was a small bottle, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t bought me anything at all. His homemade cupcakes alone were perfect.
I hadn’t tortured myself like this in years. I was over him. So, so over him. I would be a fool to be anything but. You shouldn’t hold a flame for a man who you hadn’t seen in almost thirteen years. The fact that I’d never found anyone else that made me as happy as him didn’t mean anything, right? It only meant that I had to keep looking. Surely, someone other than Ian Greyson could make me happy and would love me as much as I loved him. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had some nice relationships in the past ten years or so, but they’d never had that spark and the overwhelming “yes, this is it” feel. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than that.
Some would say, “At nineteen, how do you even know what ‘this’ is, or what love feels like, for that matter?” Maybe I didn’t, but I knew I’d never been as happy with anyone else. I’d never felt the deep connection I’d had with Ian with another man. My only problem was choosing a man who didn’t love me back. I suppose it wasn’t my only problem, because now that man was back, and he wanted to be my boss.
So, I had to decide. Could I work with Ian, or should I startpolishing my résumé? Or should I be booking a trip? Door number three sounded fabulous. Maybe not the wisest thing to do, but hey, you only live once. Too bad I was so responsible. I would never do such a thing until I knew I had a job. I wouldn’t be able to relax, so it would be pointless. Maybe that’s what I would do—secure employment but tell them I couldn’t start for two weeks. Then I would book a trip to somewhere warm with sandy beaches and hot single men. I laughed to myself. I was all talk. I hated the single scene, which might be the reason I was still single. Maybe I should hit the library, it worked the first time. Too bad hardly anyone went to the library anymore, and even if they did, I was too old for them now.
I lay in bed and thought and thought and thought some more. Then I dreamt about Ian. I hadn’t dreamt about him in a long time, which was a good thing, because it usually was me crying, feeling hopeless and hollow. I would wake up and have to remind myself it was okay, and it was only a dream, even though I had felt that way for a long time after he broke up with me. It was a terrible feeling, but this dream, in a way, was worse. This dream reminded me of why I had loved him so long ago. It reminded me of what it felt like to be enfolded in his arms and warmly kissed. For a moment, when I awoke, I craved him and that feeling.
I sat up and threw my pillow. Why did he have to come back here and get into my head? I had kicked him out of it so long ago, or at least I thought I had.
I crawled out of bed, dead tired. That was the worst night’s sleep I’d had in forever, and he was to blame. I was still no closer to knowing what I should do, so I got dressed and headed to the YMCA to workout. They didn’t offer belly dancing on Saturday mornings, but Zumba would suffice. I would take anything that made me sweat profusely and helped me not to think about Ian for just a bit.
On the way to the Y, Holly Chandler called. “Honey, Gary and I are so worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” That was mostly true.
“Are you sure?” She knew me too well.
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Thanks, Holly. Tell Boss not to worry about me.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself when you come over for dinner tonight? Are you free?”
I would never dream of missing dinner at their house. “What time should I be there?”
Holly and Gary were so good to me. Holly had been Amanda’s and my surrogate mother. She was the one who talked to us about periods and boys. She even helped us shop for prom dresses. She was my dad’s equivalent to a superhero.
