He watched as she disappeared into the hotel lobby. He could chase after her. He could follow her into the elevator…
He took a step forward and then stopped. Chasing after her wouldn’t lessen the pain. He’d taken a risk last night, jumping off a cliff into the unknown. Now all he could do was prepare for the crash. It was coming. And it was going to hurt.
“I’m going to miss you, Ivy.”
Chapter 21
Ivy stared at the typed checklist on her computer screen. It had been busy for a Sunday. She could check off “Write article about findings,” “Order supplies (before funding ends),” and “Call Kate.” Thankfully, her sister hadn’t picked up the phone, so Ivy had left a message telling her that her boss had turned out to be a great guy, not a serial killer, and all was well.
Except I lost my funding, my lab, and maybe my heart…
She especially wasn’t ready to admit that last part to anyone. Love took time. It grew from dates and shared experiences. Love wasn’t the result of breaking into a museum, or dancing in Central Park. Love didn’t happen in a single night.
I shouldn’t have slept with him. My hormones are confused.
Or maybe she needed to have sex more than once every two years. Just in case she walked into another accidental makeover followed by a midnight tour of Manhattan and lost her mind over a man again.
“You’re here early for a Sunday,” Penelope called as the door to their lab space closed behind her. “I thought you might catch up on sleep today after your wild and crazy Friday night.”
Ivy remained focused on her screen. “I need to get a jump start on finding a new home for the clinical trial.” She had told Penelope about the lab closure yesterday. “If I do find support, I need to resign myself to long hours of paperwork.”
“And you’re planning to do this all by yourself, huh?” Penny claimed the metal stool beside Ivy. She set her messenger bag on the stainless-steel table. Their small workspace came with an office, but they’d filled it with supplies and filing cabinets instead.
“Soon I won’t have the budget to keep you on this project.” Ivy looked at her friend. “You’re t
alented. You should apply for a position with Peter’s group and work on the cancer research. He’d love to have you.”
“I want to work for you. And don’t say you won’t have the funding. You will. We’ll find a way. Together.” Penelope reached into her bag and withdrew her laptop. “I’ve been looking into alternatives. Seeing what we have still coming in from NIH. We’ll make it work. I’m in this with you. It isn’t Ivy Grant versus the world anymore.”
“Ivy Grant versus the world?” she said. “Is that what you think?”
“No, but I heard your ex say it once and I thought it might spur you to say ‘Yes, please help me, Penelope, so I can spend some of my spare time with this sexy man I met on Friday.’”
“Stop,” Ivy said. “I’m not…we’re not together. It was a one-night thing. I can’t spend every night crashing galas and breaking into museums.”
Penelope raised an eyebrow. “And you think he was only attracted to the adventure?”
No, I don’t think that. But if you tell my heart…
The pain was like a weight in her stomach, resting on the muffin she’d inhaled for breakfast.
“Does it really matter?” Ivy said with a sigh. “Either way, his life is galas and Teslas.”
“You’re making excuses.”
“Penelope, the man arranged a six-person makeover team on a moment’s notice.”
“Don’t think you could handle that every day?”
“No,” Ivy said flatly. “I couldn’t.”
“You’re probably right. It would get old,” Penelope said as she typed.
“Penelope,” Ivy growled.
“Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s your choice if you want to spend the rest of your life married to your job. We don’t have to talk about it. Tell me about the dress again. Every detail. Fairy tale adventures don’t happen every day. I might never have a wild one-night stand with a billionaire. So I need to live vicariously through you. Did you feel like a princess?”
Ivy stared at the white board mounted on the far wall. She could still feel the bubble of excitement when she’d seen the Marchesa for the first time. “Yes.”