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“If you’re serious about her, and you have no doubts that she’s the one you want to be with, I can get behind that.”
Franky felt unexpectedly choked up. “That … that means everything to me, Bash. Thank you.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t even know how Sky feels about me. And I don’t know what I’ll do if she and Luca have gotten serious this summer.” His hands were in his hair again, and he was sure he would start going bald from how much he’d been yanking on it lately.
“I haven’t heard anything about her and Luca all summer. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“I just need to talk to her.”
“What are you going to do?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m going to tear down all the walls.”
Piece by piece, Franky chucked his clothing across the room at his open duffle bag. He was tied up in knots and unsure what he was going to say when he reached the winery, but he had to go. He needed to see her, to tell her what was on his mind, and if she was with Luca now, he would have to accept that. But at least she would know how he felt.
His cell phone rang as he was packing, and the knotted up feeling grew stronger. He took a seat on his bed, took a deep breath, and answered.
“Hey, Ivy. I was just going to call you.”
“How was lunch?”
“It was good. Always nice to see Bash.”
“I’m on my way over.”
“Okay.” He had already planned to swing by her place before he left. He couldn’t go to Skylar until he made things right with Ivy.
“I’ll be there in about an hour.”
Franky sat on the bed, staring out his window. An hour would give him a little time to consider what it was he wanted to say. He hated the thought of hurting Ivy, but now that he’d admitted the truth to himself and Sebastian, he needed to man up and finally be honest. He didn’t want to marry her. His proposal had been rash and sudden, and he was pretty sure they both knew it, but they’d gotten swept up in the romance of Sebastian and Genevieve’s wedding.
His mind wandered to memories of Skylar at the wedding. She had looked stunning that night. But he’d shoved those thoughts down because of Ivy. Now, he let himself think about her, about their dance at the reception, and then he was thinking about all the time they’d spent together over the past year. The open mic night at Carmichael’s suddenly popped into his head. He wasn’t sure he remembered all the lyrics of the song he’d written her, but he started humming the tune, and it quickly came back to him.
He stood and headed for his home office like he was on a mission. Plopping down at his desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out the page Ivy had ripped from the legal pad with the lyrics on it and jotted down the rest that he could remember. He tweaked them here and there, adding a few extra lines that held more meaning.
Just as he was getting into his songwriting groove, he heard the doorbell.
His eyes closed for a moment, and he reluctantly left the song behind and went to answer it.
Ivy stood on his doorstep with a smile on her face. Once inside, she lay her hand on his chest and leaned in for a kiss, which he turned away from at the last moment.
Her brow furrowed. “What’s the matter?”
He lowered his head for a beat before looking her in the eye. “Ivy, we need to talk.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear.”
Franky motioned toward the couch, and she hesitantly walked over and sat down. He sat in the chair beside her and took a deep breath.
“You’re an amazing woman, Ivy Prescott—”
Ivy held her hand up between them. “I’m going to stop you right there.”
He watched as she straightened her back and lifted her chin.
“I’ve seen this coming for a while, and I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s been off with you for the past couple months, ever since you found out Skylar left town.”