Chapter 34
Ivy
Joe moves back home as soon as I get discharged from the hospital. I’m due for a checkup in a week, but the doctor didn’t see anything weird in my lungs or in my brain.
It doesn’t surprise me that Aunt Sherry didn’t take the news well.
I have a feeling it’s only because she would have to explain Joe’s sudden absence to her rich friends, not because she particularly cares about him.
If she did, she wouldn’t have retracted her offer to pay for flight school as soon as Joe told her about his change of plans.
Bah.
Since he only took one suitcase with him—which our aunt refused to ship—Ford and Joe take a day trip to Boston to grab his things. Which means that Nash takes over nursing duties, making sure I don’t cough myself to death. Their words, not mine.
Mother hens.
I spend the day watching movies and playing board games with him. And unlike my two bodyguards, he doesn’t threaten to call an ambulance as soon as I cough a little.
Taking advantage of our uninterrupted time together, I ask him, “A friend is coming from out of state and needs a job. Do you happen to be hiring? No pressure at all.”
He repositions himself on the couch as he shuffles the playing cards he’s kicking my ass with. “What kind of job are they looking for?”
Alma didn’t specify, but I know she has a BA in tourism. “She’s worked as an assistant for years, but she’s always wanted to be an event organizer. She can do anything, though. If you need a waitress or something, I’m sure she’ll say yes. She’s about my age, if that’s relevant.”
Like I promised her, I keep her pregnancy to myself. Lying to Nash doesn’t feel right, but I also refuse to betray my friend. It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s going through enough already.
He scratches his neck. “I’m kinda busy with the spa renovations, but we’ll figure something out. There’s always something to do at the resort. Tell her to come in for an interview when she gets here.”
I beam. She should be arriving tomorrow, according to her texts. Apparently, buses to Harmony Hills aren’t that frequent, and she doesn’t have a car.
“Thanks, Nash. You’re the best.”
“Can I record that and play it back to Ford when he gets back?”
I throw my head back in laughter and, to my credit, don’t cough once.
When Joe and Ford come back before dinner and Nash leaves for The Harmony Grove, the three of us order some takeout and listen to Ford’s nightmare meeting with our aunt.
“She took one look at my scowl, and I didn’t stand a chance,” he comments as he stuffs his face with fried rice.
I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Well, I happen to like your scowl.”
“Gross.” Joe makes a face before turning to Ford. “Our aunt doesn’t like anyone. Don’t take it personally.”
“Did she give you a hard time?” I ask my brother.
“She wasn’t happy, but I don’t give a shit.”
“Language.”
“Sorry. I don’t care,” he corrects himself. “Anyway, I’m happy to be back. And Ives?”
“Yes, snot?”
“Now that I live here again, and since you and Ford are together, will I get traumatized for life?”
I choke on my rice.
Ford hands me his glass of water and tells my brother, “Your house, your rules. If you want to spend time with your sister, just the two of you, feel free to kick me out.”
“Plus,” I add after I’ve gotten my coughing under control, “we finally have someone who knows how to cook, Jojo. Say hello to homecooked meals from now on.”
“That was the plan all along? To make me fall in love with you so you guys could have a private chef?” Ford teases.
“Yes. Did it work?”
Joe bursts into laughter, and Ford sends me a look that promises revenge—the fun kind.
Two days later, my pestering finally gets me what I’ve been wanting for months.
“I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this,” Ford mutters as I follow him around his house like an eager puppy.
“Because you love me?”
He grabs a box from the top shelf of his wardrobe, then sends me a look over his shoulder. “Love and spoil you too much.”
There’s no point in denying that. “Come on, hurry. I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages.”
He lets out a comically deep sigh and puts the box on the ground. “I’m already regretting it.”
I bounce on the balls of my feet as he rummages through the contents of the box. He’s been putting this moment off, using my recovery time as an excuse, but the doctor gave me the okay this morning to go back to work and live my life normally.
“Okay. Close your eyes,” Ford says.
I’ve never closed my eyes faster in my entire life. “I’m ready.”
He snorts. “You can look now.”
A loud, totally unattractive hoot bursts out of me when my eyes land on the infamous photo—Ford, in his underwear and dripping wet, gripping a fire hose like some kind of firefighter fantasy, standing in front of the fire truck.
“Holy shit,” I breathe out, holding the calendar closer to examine every inch of his glistening skin. “Putting you in August was the right choice. Hottest month, hottest fireman.”
“Actually, July tends to be the hottest month in Vermont.”
“Shush. You look so good here. I’m actually drooling,” I say, scanning the picture like a crazy person. “You holding that big, long hose is doing things to me.”
He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, suppressing a smirk. “Okay, enough.”
He grabs the calendar, throws it on the bed, and lifts me up effortlessly, drawing me close until my legs entwine around his waist. The soft echo of my laughter lingers in the air before I say, “I have to tell you something.”
“An exciting something?”
“A very exciting something.” I take a deep breath. “I made a social media account for my art.”
His eyebrows go up. “Seriously? You finally did it?”
I nod shyly. “And it’s taking off.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means,” I start, my smile betraying me, “that I have people emailing me for commissions. They’re willing to pay for my art.”
“Of course they are.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m so proud of you, beautiful. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that print. I still want to buy it from you.”
I give him a soft smile. “Okay.”
He plants a soft kiss on the sensitive skin of my neck. “Want me to tell you a secret?”
“A secret?” Goose bumps erupt on my skin.
“I kept the sticky note you gave me that day with the cookies.”
My mouth falls open. “Why? You didn’t even like me back then.”
“I had an inkling.”
“And that was…?”
“That my annoying neighbor would one day have me wrapped around her finger.”
“So psychic of you.”
“Want to know my next prediction?”
I nod.
“I’m going to marry the hell out of you one day.”
My heart swells. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh. You’ll see.”
Months ago, I would’ve broken my own heart convincing myself that such a thing could never happen. Hopes are fragile things, after all.
But now, his words feel right. I’m not scared of the future. I’m not waiting for the next bad thing to happen. For the next low after this high.
I deserve a happy life, and I want to build it with the man next to me.