A Family After All. Kathy Altman
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desperate for a distraction from the spicy siren call of the chili. The forlorn look on Liz’s face did the trick.
“What’s going on?” Ivy asked gently.
“It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?”
Liz bit her lip. “Marcus. Me. Sex.”
Ivy grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Liz stumbled through a laugh. “No need to look so horrified. I didn’t suddenly find out he’s gay or into BDSM. He didn’t fail to perform or anything. We never got that far. He blew up at me for pressuring him, then said he thought it was time for us both to move on.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Liz.” And oh, dear Lord, did that sound familiar. Ivy ignored the hollow feeling in her chest. This isn’t about you. She cleared her throat. “Did Marcus give you any reason at all for the breakup? Besides feeling pressured, I mean?”
“He told me why, but it was totally not a valid reason, and I tried to argue, but...” Liz shrugged. “When he drove me home, he didn’t say anything except to tell me to take care of myself.” Her face collapsed, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “I screwed up. I wanted to show him how much I love him, and instead I ended up chasing him away. I couldn’t even get him to kiss me.”
Ivy leaned forward. “You can fix this. Just tell him you understand. Tell him if he needs more time, he can have it.”
“I did say all that. He didn’t go for it. Even if he had, how much more time do I give him? Months? Years? If I don’t pressure him at all, then where’s his motivation to sleep with me?”
Ivy didn’t know how to answer that one. “I guess what you need to decide is how long you’re willing to wait.”
“I’m not sure that’s even an option anymore.” Liz hung her head, and her curly blond hair tumbled to cover her face. When she looked back up, her eyes had dulled. She rubbed a palm against her chest. “Ivy, he said goodbye like...like there wouldn’t be another hello.”
Ivy straightened, feeling as useless as a fork in a soup bowl. “I’m so sorry.” She’d driven Seth away like Liz had driven Marcus away. What advice could she possibly give? “Have you considered talking to Allison? She knows Marcus better than any of us.”
“I thought about it, but if he ever found out, he’d be humiliated. I couldn’t do that to him.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Drew in a deep breath. “That’s really something, isn’t it? I mean that Allison’s going to be a mom.”
Ivy braced herself for the familiar little clutch of pain. Yep, there it was. Hello, old friend.
“I want that,” Liz said softly. “I want with Marcus what Allison has with Joe.”
An image of Seth taunted Ivy, and her ready words of encouragement faded. All she could manage was a nod.
Resignation chased the daydreams from Liz’s face. “I need to get back to work. I’m sorry to bother you with all of this.” She got to her feet and pushed the chair under the table. “Thank you again for the generous tip.”
They hugged, Ivy’s own desperation echoed in the rigor of Liz’s fingers on her back. Minutes later, she waved from her porch as the little blue car disappeared down the driveway.
Some tip.
Sorry, I can’t help you. Find someone else to talk to.
With a sigh, she shuffled back into the kitchen, grabbed two of the containers and turned to put them in the fridge.
So much for her appetite.
* * *
SETH SLAPPED HIS cards facedown on the table and sagged back against his chair. “Fold.”
“Judas Priest, Walker.” Joe shot him a disgusted look. “That’s got to be the tenth time tonight. You don’t get your act together, we’re going to boot you out of the club.”
“We can’t boot him out.” Noble brandished the remains of a sub thicker than his wrist. “He’s the only one of us who knows how to make a decent sandwich.”
Gil Cooper, owner of Cooper’s Hardware and Seth’s off-road-biking buddy, lifted his bottle of beer. “Plus he’s just now learning that a good brew isn’t supposed to look like lemonade and smell like three fat guys trapped in a two-man tent.”
“And he has a daughter who bakes.” Former marine Harris Briggs was a chewing-gum addict, an infamous grump and the part-time manager of Castle Creek Growers. He waved a chocolate chip cookie in the air. “Forget quarters. We should play for these little gems.”
Joe snatched the cookie out of the air, took a bite and shook his head at Seth. “You know what your trouble is?”
“Yeah. I’m not getting enough sleep.”
“Neither am I, but it’s not because I’m too stubborn to take what’s on offer.” Joe dodged a balled-up napkin. “I’m just sayin’. She wants you, too.”
“Who’re we talking about?” Gil didn’t realize his cards were angled for the whole table to see. There was a reason his stack of chips was shorter than everyone else’s.
Seth hesitated, then muttered, “Ivy Millbrook.”
“That’s my kind of trouble,” Gil said, and smirked when Seth glared.
“You’re going to have trouble of your own if you don’t keep your cotton-pickin’ hands to yourself,” Harris growled at Joe, who was hogging the plate of cookies.
“Now, boys, play nice.” Gil stretched across the table, knocking over three towers of poker chips and an empty beer bottle in the process. The bottle clattered off the edge and hit the linoleum with a hollow clunk. Undeterred, Gil scooped a handful of cookies off the Hello Kitty platter. He tossed a couple at Noble and sat back down. Everyone else exhaled and straightened up out of the human shields they’d formed around their own bottles and stacks.
“What about Olivia Duncan?” Noble asked through a mouthful of cookie. “She’s cute. I saw you two in Mama Leoni’s parking lot last night. How’d that work out?”
Seth scowled. “It didn’t.”
“Because it’s not Olivia keeping Seth up at night.” Joe tucked in his chin and peeked at his cards. “Now, are we going to finish this game or not?”
“He’s got something good,” Noble said, disgusted, and threw down his cards. Ignoring Joe’s bark of protest, he squinted at Seth.
“What’s up with you and Ivy? You two like each other, so why’ve you spent the past year ducking and weaving? Hit the canvas, already.”
Seth squeezed the back of his neck. “That guy she was engaged to a few years back.” He looked at Joe. “What was his name?”
“Evan.”
“Evan. Right. Apparently the bastard did a number on her, because she’s convinced commitment’s a four-letter word.”
“She’s gun-shy.” Noble nodded sagely. “I get that.” When Joe snorted, Noble spread his hands. “What? Haven’t you ever wondered why this prime piece of bachelor booty is still on the market?”
Joe checked out the big man’s bright yellow Read Books, Not T-shirts tee, which he wore with a paint-stained pair of black leather motorcycle pants and emerald green high-tops. “No.”
“I’ve been wonderin’,” Harris spoke up. When everyone stared, he flushed. “On behalf of the ladies, that is.”
“I’m no stranger to heartbreak.” Noble patted his solar plexus. “It takes a brave human being to risk that kind of pain again.”
Gil screwed up his eyes. “It takes a brave