Page 6 of Diving In

“Hey, babe. I’m at dinner with an important client. Is this an emergency?” he answered.

If he knew me as well as he said he did, he would’ve known something was wrong simply because I was calling, which was something I almost never did. Ian was almost always with a client, meaning I usually got sent to his voicemail on the first ring. At this point, I’d just stopped calling him first, knowing that the best way to get ahold of him was to let him call me when he was free. Nonetheless, this felt like it warranted a call, so here we were, and on top of his ignorance, he had the nerve to ask if it was an emergency?

That third glass of wine was threatening to reach the surface.

Slamming my eyes shut, I took a few deep breaths, collecting my thoughts before allowing any words to leave my mouth. Ian had no idea what happened, so it wasn’t fair for me to bite his head off.

“Sort of,” I said softly.

“It’ssort ofan emergency?” he said, sounding half confused, half annoyed.

“Jack died,” I blurted out.

I could tell it took Ian a second to put it together, which was mostly my fault considering I didn’t talk about Jack often.

“Wait, you mean your dad? He… died?” he asked, puzzled. I was assuming his uncertainty was because most people would’ve said “dad” instead of using their first name.

“My mom called this morning. Apparently he’d been fighting a battle with cancer, and he lost. The person she talked to said that someone needed to come and handle a few things, and you know how my mom can be, so I told her I would go. I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said in one breath, getting it all out as fast as I could.

I did this thing when I was nervous, or excited, or scared, or really when I was feeling any type of emotion: word vomit. The words left my mouth before I even knew what I was saying, and they didn’t stop until every last detail had been spewed. This was clearly one of those moments.

“Babe, I’m so sorry.” His voice was muffled, and I could hear conversations and rustling coming through the phone. “I’ll do my best to finish up as quickly as I can and then I’ll be there. Is that okay?” he asked, silently telling me that he hoped I wouldn’t push the topic any further.

So, I didn’t.

CHAPTER 4

Iended the call and clicked the side button on my phone, the screen going black. My body was exhausted, but pots and pans lined the counters and I couldn’t go to bed with a messy kitchen. I turned on the water, my mind immediately wandering as I started scrubbing.

Ian was a lawyer at a firm that worked with popular celebrities, athletes, and politicalbig wigs. So, when he said he was with an important client, he could quite literally mean he was sitting next to Leonardo DiCaprio for all I knew.

His job was so different from my very dull 9-5 office job as a marketing manager. His day-to-day consisted of lattes from the newest and most hip coffee shops, lunches overlooking the Hudson, elaborate dinners that cost more than my monthly rent. In between all the fancy meetings, he had billable hours too, whereas mine were packed full of meetings and staring at my computer for hours on end.

At thirty-four, Ian was more successful than anyone in our circle, having just been promoted to senior associate at one of the largest and most prestigious law firms in New York City.

With soap-drenched hands, I couldn’t get Ivy’s words out of my head as I reflected on parts of my relationship with Ian.

Ian and I started dating two years ago after being introduced through mutual friends. One of my coworkers, Mollie, who happened to be dating Ian’s much older and far less attractive boss, Paul, was always trying to set me up with someone. She was desperate to finally have the double-date that she’d always dreamt about, constantly telling me how much she was hoping I’d meet someone.

So, when she asked if I would join her and Paul for drinks, I was less than thrilled, but I finally budged after she begged me. I said yes because I genuinely felt like it was time for me to put myself out there, not because Mollie assured me that Paul’s junior associate at work was “extremely attractive” and in the market for a girlfriend.

It had been three years since I’d moved to New York City and approximately forever since I’d had any physical touch from the opposite sex. But truthfully, I knew I was really there to support Mollie, because besides Ivy, she was the only other person I considered a friend.

All of the people I’d met in the city had a way of throwing around the word “friends,” even though most of whom were nothing more than pieces in their chess game. Pieces that they so clearly played when the right opportunity came along, having no remorse when simply disposing of a person who no longer served them.

As we’d walked to dinner, Mollie had rambled on about her hopes and dreams for the future. “—and then I’m hoping to get pregnant on the honeymoon, that way we can have both kids before I’m thirty-five. One boy and one girl. We can’t have Paul gettingtooold.” Mollie beamed before adding, “How many kids do you want?”

As she anxiously awaited my answer, I debated how to respond before finally opting for the truth. “Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it,” I replied. “It’s not that I’m against marriage or children or anything like that. It’s just that I haven’t found anybody who has made me want to think about those things… To be fair, I haven’t looked that hard.”

I’d always hoped to find someone to settle down with, someone who I wanted to do everyday life with. Nothing crazy, no fireworks, just subtle contentment. It just hadn’t happened yet.

“And that’s why you have me!” she’d confidently stated as she grabbed my hand and led me into the bar. “Let’s go find you a man!”

I immediately spotted Paul among the crowd, but it was the man standing next to him who caught my attention. Ian Russo. He was Italian, that much I knew. His light brown skin and dark features instantly gave him away. He wore a navy suit that was impeccably tailored, his wrist held what appeared to be an awfully expensive watch—a Rolex, if I wasn’t mistaken. There was just something about men who wore jewelry that really did it for me.

We’d hit it off that night, both sharing our life plans and goals, eager to have met someone else who knew exactly what they wanted. We’d been dating ever since. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but we were both content. He’d never straight up admitted it, but Ian’s job had been and would continue to be the most important thing in his life. I knew where I ranked on his list of priorities, and I’d accepted it long ago. We both knew where we stood and what we meant to each other, and that was what made us work well together. We didn’t have to have the explosive chemistry or some intense bond, that shit wasn’t real anyway.

That was one thing I’d always appreciated about Ian. He wasn’t one of those boyfriends who felt the need for us to be glued to each other’s sides. We both lived our own lives while also sometimes enjoying the other’s company. And because he had always given me my space and let me be independent, something that had always been important to me, I’d done the same for him.

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