Mended (Connections, #3)(35)

She’s suddenly more composed, wiped clean of emotion. She’s the same resilient, undaunted girl she always was. She takes his arm over her shoulder and tells him about the guy she was dancing with. I don’t need to relive it, so I turn away and call the driver. “Yeah, Scott, we’re ready to get out of here.”

? ? ?

Every inch of me is tense and the pressure in my chest keeps increasing. It’s eight thirty in the morning and I’m standing outside her door. I didn’t sleep all night. I got up way too early and went for a run in a useless attempt to push thoughts of her aside, but I couldn’t—I have to talk to her. When I knock she doesn’t answer, so I keep pounding, louder and louder. She finally cracks the door open, leaving the chain on it.

“Xander, what’s going on?” she asks in a low croak.

“I need to talk to you.”

“It’s a little early.”

“Just get dressed and meet me downstairs in the coffee bar.”

“Fine, give me thirty minutes.” She huffs loudly and slams the door.

Her favorite drink was always a vanilla latte, so I take a chance and order her one. I grab myself a coffee and down a red-eye. Leaning over the railing, I think about us and wonder how different things might have been if I’d told her the truth way back when. The line for coffee grows as the room starts to fill with people, but I spot her as soon as she enters the atrium. She looks incredible—white shorts, a tight red tank top that hugs her body in just the right way, and some kind of black wedge sandals. The sight of her makes my pulse race so fast that my fingers are trembling.

She enters the coffee bar just as I turn around. Spotting me, she walks slowly. Her gaze is fixed on mine and for a moment her face is soft, calm even, but the closer she gets the more unflappable she becomes. When I reach out to offer her the latte, she smiles and takes it.

“Vanilla,” I tell her as I run a nervous hand through my hair.

“You remembered,” she says with the first genuine smile I’ve seen cross her face.

“How could I forget? We drank our way through late nights and early mornings with them.”

“Do you still drink them?”

“No. I changed to regular coffee. Couldn’t take the sweetness after a while.”

Her fingers touch my lip, and my body comes alive. “Does it hurt?”

I cock my head and press back my smile. “No. Not at all.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, again I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have danced with that *.”

“It’s worth a lot.” After a few seconds of silence, I add, “I checked on Leif and he’s actually fine.”

“I know. I checked on him too.” She clears her throat and the easy back-and-forth of our conversation is over. She takes a sip of her latte and asks, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

My brain is warring with my lips to keep me from leaning down and kissing her as she licks the excess froth from her mouth.

“Xander?”

I lose myself for a moment, but the softness in her voice brings me back. “I actually want to take you someplace.”

“You mean the band?” she asks.

“No. Just you and me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve told you this a few times.”

“I won’t talk about anything you don’t want to. Just come with me. I promise it’s a place you’ll love.”

She wavers and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But only because I’m dressed and have nothing else to do. And you’re buying me a muffin first.”

I laugh. “Ah. I can definitely do that.”

? ? ?

Last night another wall came down between us, and although Ivy is still guarded, she actually seems to be warming up to me. My plan was to talk to her after I took her out for the day, but now that I’ve promised not to talk about the past, I’ll just have to take the conversations as they come. I already believe she’s who I need, but I just need to convince her I’m who she needs. I wanted to take her someplace I know we’ll both enjoy.

The sign reads: OHIO HISTORICAL MARKER—BIRTHPLACE OF ROCK ’N’ ROLL. From afar, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame building is truly stunning. Ivy’s face lights up when she sees it.

Pointing to it, she says, “Look, Xander, it looks like the pictures of the Louvre you sent me.”

And it does. The building is made up of geometric shapes resembling triangles that seem to shadow the lake. And although Ivy’s enthusiasm puts the biggest smile on my face, it’s the sound of her voice that melts my heart—the way she just said, “Look, Xander.”

As we exit the cab I know without a doubt . . . I’m still in love with this girl. And nothing can sour my mood. We enter the building. “Where to first?” I ask her.

She’s studying the map and points to a small red dot. “Right here.”

I laugh. “Could you be more specific?”

“The Beatles exhibit. I really want to see John Lennon’s acoustic guitar.”

“The Beatles it is.” I take her hand without thinking and lead her to the exhibit she selected.

Morning stretches into afternoon as we pass from Metallica to the Rolling Stones memorabilia. We talk about each artifact, spending the most time in the Jimi Hendrix forum.