Page 41 of Saving Ian Pope

I’d been tuning out Chloe’s yapping until I heard the wordEngland. Cranking my head to the side, I said, “What are talking about?”

“I know you have me on ignore.” Chloe adjusted her massage chair. “I asked you when Ian was going back to England.”

“The day after tomorrow.” Saying the words out loud caused a dull ache in my stomach, and I folded my hands across it. “I have one more outing planned for him at the Getty Villa. We started our sight-seeing tour at the Getty Center, so I thought it would be serendipitous to end it with the antiquities at the Getty Villa. Then we can have lunch in Malibu.”

“Sounds dull. And?”

“And what?”

“Are you going with him? Are you going to follow him out there? Go for an extended visit? Has he invited you? Wait—” Chloe covered her mouth, her newly painted nails a shimmering blue to match her eyes “—the fuckwad didn’t invite you.”

I drummed my own nails, short and unpolished, on the armrest of my chair. “He did invite me. He wants me to join him—forever.”

“What?” Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Girl, no. That’s what he said?”

“Sort of. I mean, that was his implication. He said he’s not into long-distance romances, and he wants me with him.” I giggled and curled my toes as the manicurist scrubbed the bottoms of my feet.

“Oh my, God. You’re going, aren’t you? Ivy, you have to go with him. He has his issues for sure, but he’s so into you, and—” she leveled a long fingernail at me “—he’s loaded, mega-rich.”

“Yeah, I know he must have some money after his years with the band, but that’s not his main attraction, not for me.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt, especially given his recent escapades. Andsomemoney? Are you kidding? He’s worth about eighty million dollars.”

This timemyjaw dropped. “No.”

“What do you mean? You really don’t know? I thought you looked him up.”

“I didn’t look up his net worth.”

“Why the hell not? I did. That’s one of the first things Ididlook up when you told me he was at our place sleeping in your bed.”

“That can’t be right.” I scooped up my phone from my lap and did a search for Ian Pope’s net worth, praying he’d never accidentally pick up my phone and see my search history. The figure on the screen dazed me. “It says here approximately eighty-five million dollars. What do you do with that much money?”

“Anything you want.Nowdo you see why you have to go with him?”

“I don’t lo...like him for his money. He wouldn’t be the same person with the same characteristics without his experiences, but money doesn’t factor into our relationship. That’s gross.”

“It will play a role if you have to fly back and forth from the US to the UK. You can’t afford to do that. It’s just practical. Anyway, like you said, it doesn’t matter if he has it or not. You’re already in lo...like with him.” Chloe gave me a wink.

With our newly painted toes, we hobbled three doors down to a breakfast place and secured a table on the patio in the back. This was just the type of place, the whole block, actually, where paparazzi hung out in their quest for celebrity photos. After realizing how close my place was to Montana Avenue, Ian had suggested several restaurants here for dinner. I’d shot them all down. Maybe if I’d relented, he wouldn’t have had to stage his own ambush.

Chloe ordered a cinnamon bun French toast and a mimosa, and I got the açai bowl with a cup of herbal tea. When her drink came, Chloe tapped on the champagne flute with her nail. “Are you ever going to drink again? It’s not like you have a problem with it.”

“Eventually. I just don’t think it’s polite or wise to drink in front of someone in recovery.”

“Eh. It’s not like he’s going to get drunk on your kiss.” Chloe took a dainty sip of her drink. “He’s gonna have to get used to it at some point, especially in the music industry. You remember that guy I dated, Nico, who was a roadie. He said half the concerts he worked were fueled by booze and blow.”

I dredged my teabag in the hot water with a trembling hand. I knew you couldn’t be responsible for anyone else’s sobriety, but you could be helpful and supportive. Ian could navigate his recovery on his own, without me, if he really wanted it.

Chloe asked, “Is Ian going to be touring for this album he’s releasing?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have you heard any of his new songs?”

“Yeah, he has a songwriting app on his laptop, so he’s been working with that, which is what he’s doing today. He can compose with it, and he’s been putting some of the songs together and sending them to his writing partner. Before you ask—” I held up the swinging teabag over my cup “—they’re really good.”

“You definitely have to go with him. Just don’t sell your place. I’ll keep renting it from you. And if he buys you a mansion in the Bu, I’ll rent that from you, too.”

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