Page 111 of Sliding Into Love
Shaking her head, Ivy felt her eyes grow wide in surprise.
“He did. He had lost his scholarship due to poor academics and decided to be a free agent in the next draft. Before he played baseball in college, he lived with his dad in a tiny silver Gulf Stream until he was seventeen, and his dad up and left while he was in school. Jimmy couch-surfed for a year and no one realized, not his coaches or teachers or friends. And then when he got his scholarship to Central University, he focused so much on baseball, his grades dropped, and he lost his scholarship before his second year. He lived in that beat-up old clunker for a few months and somehow managed to impress the coaches at his tryout.
“And then I met him.” Standing and crossing over to the bar cart, Laura refilled her glass and brought the bottle over to fill Ivy's as well. “When I met him, I was hotheaded and ready to make a name for myself. And he was some hotshot baseball player who might as well have been from a different planet. Jimmy broke all my rules. He took me on dates to dollar movie matinees and two-for-one street-cart hot dogs and walks in the park. Nothing like the wining and dining I was used to. I was a spoiled princess with no real-world experience, and he was a scoundrel with too much. We taught each other a lot, you know. Just like you and Ethan have. I guarantee he never would have seen himself being a father to two children. But you gave him something he didn’t even know he needed. And Ethan… he completed the family you built.
“I don’t want to hear about not being good enough or whatever bullshit is going through your head. You’re going to have a lovely gown because I am buying one for you—"
“Oh, no, Laura—" Ivy tried to interrupt, but her future mother-in-law would have none of it.
“I am buying you a gown, Ivy. I’d buy you the moon for how happy you’ve made my son, and for bringing him back into our lives. And don’t even get me started on two grandchildren where we thought we would never even get to meet one. Not to mention a wonderful future daughter-in-law. So please, let me do this for you, Ivy. Let me buy you a ridiculous gown to knock my besotted son off his feet. Let me say thank you the best way I know how.”
Bright, unshed tears lined Laura’s eyes, and Ivy’s eyes burned as she shoved herself out of the chair and practically into the older woman’s lap.
Andrew, who had busied himself behind the clothing rack during Ivy and Laura’s heart-to-heart let out a sob and threw his arms around both women.
“Oh, I just love this mentor-mentee soul-searching bonding we’ve got going on,” he said with a sniffle. "It's just like a movie. Now it's time for the makeover montage!"
Unease settledover Ethan as he returned home after dropping Jase and Janna off at Lily’s apartment. Like something out of sight, or a non-existent wind raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
All day, he’d been… off. But he couldn’t quite place his finger on it and chalked it up to nerves.
Ethan planned to officially announce his retirement soon, so maybe he was anxious about letting it slip at the ball. He raked his hand through his hair. Anxiety, that was it.
Anxiety made sense.
But Ethan reminded himself there was no accounting for what made someone anxious, so he imagined what Ivy would tell him.
“Deep breath. In…good, hold it. Now out.”
In, out, Ethan breathed the way she’d taught him. It helped ease the tension pulling his shoulders toward his ears, but he still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling.
Eventually, he shoved his earbuds in his ears and went about his preparations for the charity ball trying to ignore the sensation, retrieving his tuxedo from the dry cleaner and chuckling as he imagined Laura’s gasp of horror at his procrastination. After showering, he pulled out his arsenal of travel-sized hair products, and for the thousandth time, groused about Ivy’s bargain bin hair dryer. Somehow Ethan’s haircare collection disappeared during his transition from his apartment to Ivy’s. Each time he bemoaned her lack of adequate styling gear, Ivy teased him about his regimen. But it didn’t stop her from running her fingers through his hair or commenting on how soft it was, so he was not going to stop.
Once his hair was styled to his liking, Ethan carefully loaded his tux into the back of the BMW, casting wary glances around the parking garage.
Again, the feeling of being watched. Prickles of apprehension spider-walked across his skin, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Much too quickly, Ethan peeled out of the garage and drove toward his parent’s home to finish prepping for the gala.
Thundering bass and wailing guitar reverberated through the car speakers, and the knot between his shoulder blades eased slightly. Cracking his neck at a stoplight, Ethan saw a small, dark vehicle in his rearview mirror. It was vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place it, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled again. When the light turned green, the car rode his bumper for several minutes before taking a tiny opening to speed around him and cut him off before burning rubber to get away. The windows were completely blacked out, rendering the driver invisible.
Swearing, Ethan yelled that the driver was a fucking asshole and felt slightly appeased.
When he finally arrived at the Lorne-Fisher domicile, the incident was all but forgotten. Jimmy was the first to greet him, shoving a lowball glass of bourbon into Ethan’s hands.
“Just trust me,” Jimmy said, raising his glass in a salute.
Ethan downed the glass, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it eased his anxiety. But only slightly. Silently, he held the glass out to Jimmy, earning a raised eyebrow from his father before Jimmy gestured for Ethan to follow him. Together, they went to the liquor cabinet where Jimmy refilled both glasses. Double, this time.
“That bad, huh?” Ethan asked after a sip of the bourbon.
“I can smell the hairspray from here.” Jimmy winced. “I’m still worried Andrew will come after my hair with that shit one day.”
Ethan choked on his sip of bourbon and let out a hacking cough as the alcohol burned his throat. Jimmy eyed his son’s hair.
“Not that he needs to come afteryouwith it,” Jimmy joked with a wink.
“Ivy likes my hair,” Ethan shot back, rolling his eyes. “Do you know how long they’ll be?”
“Not a clue,” Jimmy replied, peering upward, toward the second floor that held Laura’s closets and dressing room.
