She considers this, and I brace myself. "Maybe a six?"
"Only a six?"
"Well, you did save me from Marcus Webb. That's worth at least four points."
I laugh. God, I like her. I like the way she thinks, the way she talks, the little half-smile she gets when she's being funny but doesn't quite believe she is.
"Fair enough. What would get me to a zero? Hypothetically."
"Hypothetically?" She tilts her head, thinking. "Not running away when you realize I'm actually as boring as I seem."
"Ivy, I've spent fifteen years thinking about you. If I was going to run, I would have done it by now."
"You've spent fifteen years thinking about a fantasy version of me," she corrects. "The real me is much less interesting."
"I don't believe that."
"You should." She's fidgeting with her napkin, tearing little pieces off the edge. "I'm really not that complicated. I work at the library. I read a lot. I have exactly two friends, Levi and the woman who owns the coffee shop near the library. I haven't been on a date in three years. My idea of a wild Friday night is finishing a crossword puzzle without looking up any answers."
"That sounds perfect."
She gives me a look. "You're a doctor in the city. You probably go to galas and fundraisers and fancy restaurants."
"I go to exactly zero galas, and the last fundraiser I attended was so boring I left after twenty minutes to get tacos from a food truck." I lean forward. "And for the record, I also haven't been on a date in a while."
"How long is a while?"
"Eight months. Maybe nine."
Her eyebrows go up. "Why?"
Because they weren’t you. Because I'm thirty-three years old and still hung up on a girl from high school like a pathetic cliché. Because I finally admitted to myself that I was never going to find what I was looking for in the city.
"Busy schedule," I say instead. "Patients, paperwork, the usual."
She doesn't look like she believes me, but she doesn't push. Instead, she glances around the room, taking in the clusters of people laughing and drinking and reliving their teenage years. "Do you ever wish you'd stayed here? In Blackwater Falls?"
"Sometimes," I admit. "Especially when I'm stuck in traffic or dealing with insurance companies or eating dinner alone at nine PM because I had back-to-back appointments all day." I pause. "But mostly I just wish I'd had a better reason to come back."
"Levi's here. Your grandfather."
"I know. And I love them. But it's not the same as..." I trail off, trying to find the right words. "It's not the same as having something that's mine, you know? Levi has his restaurant. Granddad has his woodworking and his poker nights. I have a job I'm good at and an apartment I barely sleep in."
Ivy's quiet for a moment. "That sounds lonely."
"It is," I say, and it's a relief to admit it out loud. "I didn't realize how lonely until I came back tonight and saw you and remembered what it felt like to actually want to be somewhere."
Her eyes meet mine, and there's something vulnerable in them. Something that makes my heart race. "Owen, I don't think I can be what you're looking for."
"Why not?"
"Because you've built this whole thing up in your head. This idea of who I am, what we could be. And I'm going to disappoint you."
"You couldn't."
"I will," she insists. "I'm not exciting or adventurous. I'm not going to sweep you off your feet or change your life. I'm just... me. And that's never been enough for anyone."
I'm out of my chair before I can think better of it, moving around the table to crouch next to her. "Hey. Look at me."
