Chasing Dreams

chapter six

The minute Ivy shut the door. Vincent could hear her sobbing. “Ivy,” he said through the close door. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Ivy said, swinging the door open, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m sick and tired of you telling me it’s nothing---when it’s something,” he didn’t mean to snap at her.

If Vincent wanted to know then she would tell him. “I thought I was going to sleep in your room!” she shouted.

Vincent never expected her to say that. “You want to stay in my room?” he asked, his voice not hiding the shock he felt.

“I know it’s stupid,” Ivy said, as she rolled back and forth on her heels. Her eyes drifted to the floor, heating rushing to her cheeks, humiliated at her own stupidity.

“Oh, Ivy, honey,” Vincent said, pulling closer to him. “I would love for you to sleep in my room. I was trying to be a gentlemen,” he said, reaching out to wipe away her tears.

“Can I please stay. I’ll sleep on the floor,” she offered. Her eyes pleading with him.

Vincent knew he was playing a dangerous game letting Ivy sleep in his bed. But those chestnut eyes pleading with was making it damn near impossible to resist feeling her lie next to him. “If my intentions are less than honorable,” he said, sweeping her off her feet. “It’s your fault,” he told her carrying her towards his bedroom.

Ivy for the first time in her twenty-one years on this earth felt safe. As, Vincent Barron carried her in his arms. She didn’t understand why but being in his arms she felt like everything would be okay. By the time Vincent laid her down on the bed, she was fast asleep.

Vincent crawled in beside Ivy and listened to the even rhythm of her breath, the storm inside him quieting. For a long moment, he simply watched her, the faint moonlight from the window brushing her features with a silvery glow. The vulnerability on her sleeping face melted away the last of his resolve to keep his distance.

Carefully, Vincent pulled the blanket over Ivy’s shoulders, tucking it around her as if to seal away the world’s cruelties. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, every nerve aware of her gentle presence beside him. It surprised him how right it felt, how natural, like she’d always belonged here, in the narrow space between his heart and his doubts.

He glanced sideways, catching the way her hand curled unconsciously towards him, her breaths soft and contented. Vincent promised himself—just for tonight—he’d let her stay close, let her believe in the safety she found with him. Tomorrow could wait.

The sun was just beginning to peek through the windows in Vincent’s bedroom. When Ivy’s eyes slowly fluttered opened. She rolled over to see Vincent still sleeping beside her. On instinct she found herself reaching out to run her fingers along his beard. She couldn’t believe she shared a bed with a man like Vincent Barron.

The light painted golden stripes across Vincent’s strong shoulders, and as Ivy lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, she wondered if he’d ever know how much it meant to her—all of it: the quiet, the warmth, the way he held back the world’s edges for her, if only for a night.

She traced the line of his jaw, marveling at the softness beneath her fingertips, at the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips even in sleep. For a moment, she let herself simply watch him, memorizing the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the peacefulness that seemed to have settled over him in the dawn hours.

Vincent stirred, his lashes fluttering before he opened his eyes. He blinked, confusion clouding his features for a split second before he seemed to remember, a slow, sleepy grin spreading across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Ivy felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

For a heartbeat, nothing else existed; just the hush of the morning, the promise of sunlight, and the fragile sense of belonging that Ivy clung to. Vincent reached up, catching her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re really here,” he said, half in disbelief, half in wonder.

“I am,” she replied, her heart beating faster as his fingers laced with hers. She didn’t know what the day would bring, or if the outside world would shatter the delicate trust they’d built in these quiet hours before dawn, but for now, she let herself believe that staying close was enough.

“C’mere,” Vincent yawned, reaching across and pulling her closer to him. “Did you sleep good?” he asked, stroking Ivy’s hair when she laid her head on his chest.

“I did.” Ivy said, snuggling closer to him, deep down on part of her wished they could stay like this all day. “Your bed is amazing,” she sighed.

Vincent was surprised at how the thought of calling into the office and taking the day. To stay in bed with Ivy appealed to him. Truth be told Ivy was the first woman to actual spend the whole night in his bed, including Elle. “I’m glad,” he said, leaning his head so he could see her face. “What are your plans today?” he asked, fishing around to see if calling in was a possibility.

“I have an online interview to be a personal shopper,” Ivy said. She liked the feeling of waking up in Vincent’s arms way to much. It was something she could get use to, but she mentally kept telling herself not to.

It surprised Vincent at how disappointed he felt not being able to spend the day in bed with Ivy. He did his best not to dwell on it, he tired focusing her wanting to be a personal shopper. “Is that something you are interested in?”

“I don’t know,” Ivy sighed, sitting up and crossing her legs. “I like fashion, and the job is at Goldbergs one of my favorite stores. I wanted to work at Style it’s a fashion magazine. I mean there is a chance of moving up…isn’t there?” Ivy asked, looking at Vincent for conformation.

“Of course,” Vincent said, raising up to sit next to her. “How about I buy you some breakfast before your interview,” he offered before he opened his mouth and started an argument with her.

A big smile spread across Ivy’s face as she nodded her head. “Vincent?” she asked her voice barely a whisper. “Could…Could you give me some advice,” she paused, lowering her head, heat rushing to her cheeks. She took a deep breath before finally finding the courage to ask him. “Could you give me advice on how to show them I am the right person for the job?”

“It would be pleasure,” Vincent said, a big grin spreading across his face. He was glad that she was finally trusting him and letting him help her.

Walking into the interview, Ivy kept repeating her head the advice Vincent gave. She did just as Vincent said when shaking the woman who was just a few years older than her hands. “A firm handshake is always the best starting point. It lets them know your are serious.”

Sitting down she straightened the black skirt that Q once again leant her. That was the second piece of advice. Always dress professional. The third part was the one she was the most nervous about, hoping she sounded professional.

“So…Ms. Ryan,” the woman began. “What makes you want to be a personal shopper at Goldbergs?”

Ivy took a deep breath before she spoke, grateful that it didn’t give away at how terrified she was. “I love Goldbergs,” Ivy began. “It would be an honor to work here and maybe see how far I can working here. I love fashion and I love helping others.”

Now was her chance to tell them what she could bring to the table. Why she was the best person for the job. “I’m a hard worker. I admit I don’t have experience in working at a department store. I do have experience in dealing with people. I used to be a bartender, and you have to deal with all sorts of people, especially when they have had way too many drinks. I’m a fast learner and I put my heart and soul in everything I do,” she added.

The blank expression on the woman’s face made Ivy even more nervous. It the look she had seen to many time just before she was told that she didn’t get the job. She did her best to try and mentally prepare herself for what she knew was coming.

But instead, the woman surprised her by saying. “I like your honesty. I am going to hire you part time on a trial bases,” she said. “After six weeks if I like what I see then the job is yours.”

Ivy was to stunned to speak. She couldn’t believe she actually got the job. Even if it was on a temporary basis at least she got the chance to prove herself. “Thank you,” Ivy finally managed to say. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I have high hopes for you Ivy,” she said when Ivy stood up to leave. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t. Thank you,” Ivy reassured her on her way out the door.

On the elevator ride Ivy texted Vincent that she got the job and to thank him. She couldn’t help but giggle when she stepped out into the early afternoon when she saw Vincent’s name flash across her screen.

“Yes,” she said when she answered.

“So,” he drawled out. “What do I get as a thank you?” he asked. His velvety full of mischief.

“You are unbelievable?” Ivy sighed in exasperation. “What do you want, Vincent?” she asked, getting to the point.

“This Saturday I am taking you on a tour of the city,” he said, waiting for her to say no.

“Okay.” Ivy said. A big grin spreading across her face when the other end was silent. “Bye, Vincent. See you Saturday,” she added, hanging up, leaving Vincent Barron utterly speechless.

Bright and early Saturday morning, Ivy sat on the stoop of her building, waiting for Vincent to pick her up. She was excited and nervous about finally getting to really see Chicago. Today was the first time she had seen Vincent since the day she got the job at Goldbergs.

Her job at the department store was going great. The customers for the most part and been easy to deal with. There were some that made her job very difficult. She was learning the job and hadn’t made to many mistakes. The other girls for the most part were nice to Ivy.

The sight of a red Porsche pulling up brought her out of her thoughts. Oh, boy, Ivy thought when Vincent stepped out dressed in tight fitting jeans, a brown leather jacket over a white turtleneck sweater. The aviator sunglasses made her heart stop for at least a minute.

“Ready?” he asked when he was standing of where she was sitting on the stoop.

Ivy could only nod her head, apparently she lost the ability to speak.

Vincent’s lips curled into a teasing smile as he watched Ivy regain her composure. He extended a hand, palm up, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it. His fingers were warm, his grip gently reassuring as he helped her to her feet.

“First stop, breakfast,” he declared, guiding her towards the car with a gallant sweep of his arm. “You can’t tour Chicago on an empty stomach.”

Ivy slid into the passenger seat, the plush leather cool beneath her. She caught a faint whiff of Vincent’s cologne—cedar and something indefinably daring. The city unfurled before them as he pulled into traffic, the morning sunlight glinting off skyscrapers and river bridges.

They wandered through a bustling café tucked away on a leafy side street, the air rich with the scent of fresh pastries. Over coffee and croissants, Vincent mapped out their day on a napkin, his pen darting between landmarks: Millennium Park, the Art Institute, the glittering lakefront.

“So,” Vincent began slowly, bringing his coffee black to the tip of his lips. “What was it like growing up in Snow’s Corner?” He dark brown fixed on Ivy over the edge of the cup. The form fitting jeans and black cropped sweater showcased her perfect body.

“Boring,” Ivy said, diving in the fluffy pastry.

“Was there anyone special?” he asked choosing his words carefully.

“I’m not a virgin,” Ivy stated. “If that is what you are asking?”

“I wasn’t asking that,” he said. “Good to know though,” a big devilish grin spreading across his face, taking a bite of his in croissant.

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Just curious.”

“No,” Ivy said, heated rushing to her cheeks. “I didn’t have a boyfriend. Happy?”

“Not really. The lawyer side of me was really looking forward to getting you to confess,” a big, satisfied smile on his face.

“I hate you,” Ivy said, taking a sip of her coffee, turning towards the window to hide the smile on her face.

Vincent couldn’t resist teasing Ivy when he saw the smile she tried to hide. “Is that a smile I see?”

“Shut up,” Ivy said giggling.

On the ride to the first stop on their list. Ivy realized she didn’t know anything about Vincent. “Did you grow up in Chicago?” she asked.

“I did,” Vincent said, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road and not Ivy sitting next to him. “Both my parents were immigrants from Italy,” he added.

“Have you ever been to Italy?” Ivy asked. Her eyes wide with excitement.

“I have. I still have family there. I go there from time to time,” Vincent said. It warmed his heart that she was interested in knowing more about him.

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” Ivy said, her gaze turning to stare out the window, wondering if she would get the chance to go.

“If you are good,” Vincent teased. “Maybe someday I will take you.”

“Shut up,” Ivy said, punching him in the arm. “You will not…besides Elle wouldn’t let you,” she shot back, giving a knowing look.

Vincent threw his head back laughing, glad to see Ivy having fun. “True,” he said. “I would love to take you. Seriously,” he said, reaching across the console taking her hand into his.

“I’d like that,” Ivy said, giving Vincent’s hand a squeeze.

They rest of the ride was in silence both lost in their own thoughts. As the car glided the down tree-lined avenues, sunlight flickered across the dashboard, painting fleeting patterns on Ivy’s knees. The hush between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the gentle hum of tires on pavement and distant city sounds. Ivy watched the world pass by—the sleepy storefronts just opening for the day, a boy and his dog chasing each other across the grass, a woman wrestling a stubborn stroller up a curb. She wondered what Italy looked like in the morning, whether the light there felt as golden as it did now.

Vincent glanced at her, a half-smile lingering on his lips. He wanted to ask what she was thinking but felt the peace of this quiet too precious to break just yet. Instead, he let his thumb gently trace circles on her hand, a silent promise that their journey—wherever it might lead—was just beginning. The city melted away behind them, and with each mile, the possibilities seemed to expand, as endless and bright as the summer sky overhead.

The first stop was Millennium Park. “Is this where the big silver ball is located?” Ivy asked when Vincent helped her out of the car.

“The Cloud Gate,” Vincent told her, taking her hand leading her into the park. “And yes this is where it is located.”

“I have always wanted to see it up close,” Ivy said excitedly, dragging Vincent as they walked through the park. “Wow,” she exclaimed when they were standing in front of it. “It’s amazing.”

Vincent couldn’t help but smile at the expression on Ivy’s face, as she looked around sliver ball. She looked like a kid in a candy shop looking at all the different kinds of candy. He felt honored when she turned and looked at him, asking if he would take a picture with her.

They slid their arms around each other posing for the camera. “Thank you, Vincent,” Ivy said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I am never going to forget this,” she said, squeezing his neck tight.

Vincent held Ivy close to him. “I’m glad Ivy,” he whispered in her ear, happy to finally see her letting her guard down.

Hand in hand, they wandered through the winding paths of Millennium Park, pausing to watch a cluster of children dart in and out of the Crown Fountain’s shimmering streams. Ivy’s laughter mingled with the playful shrieks as a spray of water caught her ankle. Vincent, grinning, feigned a scandalized gasp, and she nudged him gently with her shoulder.

They found a bench beneath a canopy of leaves, dappled sunlight warming the slats. Ivy tilted her head back, eyes closed, soaking in the city’s early bustle—the distant music of a street performer, the rattle of an approaching train, the layered voices of people starting their days. Vincent watched her, memorizing the way the light painted gold along her cheekbones.

“Do you ever wish you could just… stop time?” Ivy said suddenly, not opening her eyes.

Vincent considered this, turning the question over in his mind. “Sometimes,” he said, voice low. “But only if I could choose the moments worth keeping. Like this one.”

Ivy opened her eyes and met his gaze, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. “Then let’s stay here a little longer,” she whispered.

So, they did, letting the city move around them, content to be lost together in a morning that felt, at least for now, infinite.

“Where to next?” Ivy asked, breaking the moment.

“How about a walk on the lake?” Vincent asked, standing up holding his hand to hers.

“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to go there,” Ivy said, excitedly, letting Vincent help her to her feet.

A strand hair fell just a across Ivy’s cheek, catching in the sunlight like a filament of gold. Vincent reached over, hesitated for a heartbeat, then brushed it back behind her ear with a tenderness that made Ivy’s breath catch just slightly. She looked up at him, eyes bright, as if the city’s whole morning had gathered there.

“Lead the way, then,” she said, her voice soft but brimming with anticipation.

They joined the gentle flow of people heading toward the waterfront, the city’s towers glimmering above them and the lake’s breeze already teasing at their hair. The path opened up—the glittering lake stretching out like a polished mirror beneath the sky, sailboats bobbing, gulls wheeling overhead. Ivy squeezed Vincent’s hand, and he gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if sharing a secret with the horizon.

As they walked, their laughter mingled with the sound of the waves nibbling at the shore, and every step seemed to promise that the day—so unhurried, so full of possible wonders—would last just a little longer.

Ivy let out a squeal when Vincent suddenly thew her over his shoulder running towards the water’s edge. “Don’t you dare, Vincent Barron!” she screamed when he pretended to throw her in.

He spun her around in a wide, reckless arc, her laughter pealing out, scattering a cluster of pigeons into sudden flight. Vincent set her down just shy of the lapping water, his arms still looped around her waist.

He couldn’t resist reaching out to let his thumb trail along her lower lip. “Sorry,” his voice just above a whisper when he heard her gasp.

“Don’t apologize,” Ivy said softly, wishing he would kiss her.

For a few fleeting moments Vincent and Ivy were lost in each other’s stare. The sounds around them were forgotten. A slow warmth bloomed between them, sweet and dizzying as the hazy sunlight on the water. Somewhere a busker’s tune drifted over the breeze, distant and plaintive, painting a melody over the silver-tipped waves. Ivy’s breath trembled as she watched a flicker of vulnerability cross Vincent’s face, the kind that only surfaced when he let his guard slip just enough for her to see.

Vincent broke the moment when he said. “The Art Institute should be opening.”

“Okay,” Ivy said, disappointment evident in her voice. She thought for a brief moment Vincent was going to kiss her. Just because he is being nice to you. Doesn’t mean he wants to kiss you, she quickly reminded herself.

Vincent saw and felt Ivy’s attitude change in an instant. “What?” he asked when they were at his car.

“Nothing.”

“We are not leaving until you tell me,” Vincent stated when she tried getting past him.

“Fine,” Ivy said, sitting down on the concrete block next to wear Vincent was parked. She was not about to tell Vincent that she wanted him to kiss her.

“You are the stubbornness woman,” Vincent said, throwing his hands up in aggravation.

“What?” Ivy asked. “You said we weren’t leaving until I tell you. There is no way in hell I’m telling you,” Ivy said matter-of-factly.

“Fine,” Vincent said, climbing in the car. “Stay if you want.” He was tired of arguing with her about everything. He thought he finally gotten through to her now she was putting that wall up again.

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Ivy blurted out when Vincent started the engine.

“What did you say?” Vincent asked, turning off the ignition, climbing out of the car closing the distance between them.

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Ivy said. Her voice trembling, the look on Vincent’s face quickly made her wish she kept her mouth shut.

Without a word Vincent leaned in gently brushing his lips across Ivy’s. The soft moan escaping her lips sent a shudder down his spine. His fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. Time seemed to pause around them, the distant sounds of the city melting away until there was nothing but heartbeats and the electric charge of possibility. Ivy’s hands, hesitant at first, found their way to Vincent’s shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as if to anchor herself in the sudden storm of emotion.

“Is that what you wanted?” Vincent asked. His velvety voice low and husky.

“Huh-huh,” Ivy gulped. Vincent’s warm breath across her face was making it hard to concentrate. Her lips still warm from Vincent’s kiss.