Page 13 of Volatile

“I haven’t decided yet.” He waited for her response, but she remained silent. Again, he had to give credit where it was due. Ivy was controlling herself, going so far as to speak amicably. And about that apology? He had to admit his curiosity was piqued. “I’m alone if you’d like to come here,” he said.

“To a bar?”

“Yes, I’m at the far end about to enjoy my second whiskey. If you’d care to join me, feel free. Otherwise, I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

“No, Stolly’s is fine. I’ll see you soon.”

Jon set the phone down and picked up his drink, swirling the ice around the amber liquid. Maybe he should’ve been the one having his head examined. What the hell was he thinking inviting that woman here? She was a loose cannon if he ever saw one but unlikely to go off in a public place. And he was interested to hear her explanation. She actually sounded hospitable on the phone. Maybe they’d finally be able to have a conversation without her wanting to rip his throat out. Or maybe that was just the firewater talking. He brought the rim to his lips, waiting for her to arrive.

Only one way to find out.

*****

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FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Ivy pushed through the etched glass doors wearing a long flowing skirt and a billowy blouse. Nothing like the painted on shit she wore the previous day. He was beginning to think she had multiple personalities.

He watched her look around, and as soon as she noticed him, he tipped his drink to her. She made her way over and sat on the stool next to him.

“Would you prefer a table?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.”

A hint of bright green caught his eye, and he reached over and touched her hair. She recoiled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Settle down, Ivy.” He pulled out the small leaf that was snagged in one of her curls and handed it to her.

“Oh sorry.” She gave a small smile. “Guess I didn’t check myself over before I left.”

The bartender appeared in front of them. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

“Um...” Her eyes darted to Jon’s glass. “I guess a little something will be okay. White wine, please. Your house wine’s fine.”

“Bring her a glass of the Leflaive Chardonnay.”

He nodded and stepped away, her glare burning into the side of his face. “That sounds... Never mind. You shouldn’t be ordering for me.” She opened her purse, rifling through it.

“It’s on me. Trust me, if you like white wine, you’ll love this.”

She sighed, dropping the bag into her lap. “That wasn’t necessary. I can buy my own drinks.”

Relax, woman; it’s just a damn glass of wine. “I’m ready,” he said, swiveling towards her, his knees nearly touching her thigh. He rested his forearm on the edge of the counter and gave her his full attention.

“What?” She peeked down at his legs and then quickly back up when the bartender arrived with her wine.

“I’m listening. Isn’t that why you came?”

“Right.” She took a sip, closing her eyes briefly. “This is really good.”

He smiled. “I thought you’d enjoy it.” Maybe he should order her another right away; tipsy Ivy might be easier to work with.

He watched her chest rise with a deep breath. “Yes, well, thank you.”

‘You’re welcome.”

Ivy set the glass down, fondling the stem, staring straight ahead. “So, I spoke with Lily last night. She’s still not confiding in me, but she swears that what happened won’t happen again. And... well, she seems to like you, feels comfortable with you, and that’s what I want for her. I really don’t want her to have to start over with a new therapist and get used to someone all over again.”

She looked at Jon, and he nodded. She took another sip before continuing. “Like I said, I’m sorry for the way I acted. I don’t always think first before I react. I tend to get a little out of hand when I think of someone hurting her.”

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