Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
S he had been back in the city for two weeks when Duncan’s secretary called and asked her to go to his office. Setting the phone back down on her desk, Ivy bit down a smile.
After she’d told Duncan she was interested, he had set up an informal interview with some of the senior management team and let her know they’d be in touch. From the few conspiratorial looks he had thrown her since, it was just a matter of formality and two weeks was about the time frame she had expected. Running her hand around her waistband, smoothing down the thick black jumper she had tucked in, Ivy stepped away from her corner of the open plan floor and headed towards the Boss.
“Ivy, come in,” Duncan called out, waving a hand when she poked her head round his door. He finished up a call and then set the phone down in front of him. Sighing, he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”
Shit. Oh shit . Her stomach twisted as she fought to keep a neutral expression on her face. A wink and a nudge from her boss was one thing, but he wasn’t the ultimate decision maker. She wasn’t going to?—
“Sorry you’re going to be stuck spending a lot more time with us here!” He laughed, smacking his hands off the table.
Ivy let out a ragged breath and loosened her grip on the sides of her chair.
“Did I get it?” She clarified.
“Welcome to the fold, Ivy. We’d be delighted to have you on board as the newest junior partner.” He stretched out a hand, grinning.
When she took it, a brief shock stung them both.
“Sparks flying already,” he said, watching her warmly.
“Good sign.” Ivy swallowed, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she stared at her fingertips.
“So, the paperwork and onboarding will take a few weeks, but the team are going for a drink later this evening. It would be great if you could join.”
Taking a deep breath, Ivy focused, and a buzz began to fill her chest. Her smile finally caught up to the offer and she assured him she’d see him at eight.
Ivy had felt a constant itch for the rest of the day. By the time she left work and headed home, she had answered more emails than possibly any human, ever.
Back at her flat, she felt no more settled. Whilst her pot of rice did eventually boil, her constant watching had done little to hurry it and the wait had only gotten her more highly strung. Half of the eventual chicken curry had ended up in the bin when she had had enough of sitting at the table and flitted through to her room instead.
Chris had texted her congratulations earlier and included a dress code suggestion for tonight while he was at it. Nearly two years together meant he was exactly correct when he assumed she’d be standing in front of the wardrobe wondering. Now, though, with a jumper and skirt laid out on the bed, she was down to a much shorter list of things to wonder about, and none of them were quite as easy as her sartorial options.
She’d spoken with Matt Holmes since the handover to Mhairi but asked him to keep her in the loop only as much as he felt appropriate. He seemed to be more than happy with his team but was still letting her know bits and pieces along the way, and she was thrilled with how things were looking so far. Even still, flicking past a picture he’d sent this evening of his team in Glasgow in front of a storyboard including some of her own highlights of Lewis and Harris had stung.
Running a brush through her hair, she nodded at herself in the mirror. Maybe this was a good thing. Getting used to the new status quo. As much as she aimed to keep getting back to the islands, as a partner, she wouldn’t be the boots on the ground anymore and would be less involved in the nitty gritty. Learning how to liaise with associates, rather than with the clients directly should be what she was doing, and so far, it seemed like she was doing well. Helicoptering over Mhairi in case she caught a mistake wasn’t helping anyone. And there hadn’t been a mention of Ross anyway, no matter how deeply she tried to stick her nose into the minutiae of what was going on.
Rolling her eyes, she threw the brush down and began to section out her hair ready to curl. She had been doing very well at avoiding thinking over that subject since she’d been back, but all roads led there eventually. They’d been in touch almost daily. Each conversation was heartbreakingly easy. It was like they’d never fought. Like they’d never been a they. But the crumbs of him were better the alternative, so she continued replying to every text and answering every call.
By the time she was ready, she seriously regretted committing to taking the bus. It was unseasonably cold for July, even considering this was Scotland, and she was cutting it fine with her timing. Running out the door, she was grateful for the rush as an excuse for her galloping pulse and sheen of sweat.
As she rounded the corner, she could see the bus pulling into the stop. She had a minute, max, to get down the street before it was gone, the city’s bus drivers never having been the most forgiving, so she doubted her frantic pace would do much to delay them leaving.
“Fuck,” she sighed, doubling over and bracing her hands against her knees as she arrived at the stop in time to watch the taillights disappear towards town.
Ivy stood up, shook her hands by her side and inhaled deeply as she turned her face to the sky. As the effects of the unexpected cardio in a modest heel wore off, she felt the bound of her heart against her chest transition back into the now familiar awareness of her own pulse. Her lungs were ostensibly reopened, but each breath still took that bit of extra effort to chase down and capture. Without the distraction of having to pump blood into her muscle, she had all too much time to focus on the weight in her stomach which was not helped by the pinging of the management group chat she had unexpectedly been added to.
All informal, Ivy , Duncan had told her when he’d done it, assuring her that this was the fun side of the job, she’d get added to the other one when the ink was dry on the contract.
Releasing her breath and opening her eyes, she clicked on Chris’ contact, grateful when he answered after the second ring.
“Hey, bad form for my first foray with the big boys, but I’ve missed my bus. Can you let folk know I’ll be another half an hour?”
“I’m leaving mine in ten anyway, do you want a lift?”
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! I’m just at the end of my road, or shall I come meet you somewhere?”
“Stay where you are, with you in fifteen.”
Chris pulled up bang on time, as he always did. Clambering in beside him, Ivy made a remark on how ridiculously low the sports car was, as she always did.
“Do you want to walk?”
“Ha Ha. Thanks for the lift.” She smiled at him, then rested her head back against the seat. Though they’d never been on bad terms, she had felt a new lightness to their post-breakup friendship since arriving back in Edinburgh. She didn’t feel the usual pang when she saw him and found herself actually meaning it when she laughed at his dad jokes. She supposed it was easier now that they were back on an even playing field, both on the same rung of the ladder at work, so she had no reason to resent him.
Her brows knitted as that thought floated by her, trying to wrangle it back in to think properly. Chris continued rambling on about what management drinks were like and who was who amongst them, leaving her ample time to do so.
Did she resent him? All that time? She knew she had loved him, and appreciated their relationship for what it had been, of course. And she had been the first to say that it stung to know that as soon as he was shot of her, he’d been able to take the next step. But maybe a part of her had resented the fact that she hadn’t been able to do the same. That he had been holding her back through their relationship as much as she had him, but he had been able to shake it off months before she had. Like he just hadn’t cared as much, and she’d had the double whammy. Left behind while she was in a relationship, and then the grieving period afterwards hadn’t even let her catch up.
She stared at the dashboard, drumming her thumb against her ring finger. The catching up was hardly a win either, was it? Here she was with her alleged dream job and?—
“Ivy?”
She blinked away an unexpected film to stop his outline swimming in front of her. Ivy sniffed as she brushed the freed tears from her cheek. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m—” She trailed off. “I’m really happy you got the partner job.”
He let out a half-laugh, his eyes flitting between the road and her. “Eh, thanks. I’m happy you did too.”
“Eventually.”
“For what it’s worth I think it basically came down to a coin toss between us for that first job.” He threw her a tight-lipped smile.
“Sorry, I’m being stupid. I just— God, I came so close to fucking it up again.”
“Again? Fucking what up?”
“Getting the promotion. There was a man. On the island.” She was suddenly very aware that she was telling her ex-boyfriend this.
“Oh yeah?” He arched an eyebrow at her teasingly, and she hit the top of his arm, laughing.
“Shut up. It’s over now, anyway, we’re just friends.” Ivy bit her tongue, hoping the trip before her next sentence was less obvious to him. “For the best, obviously. Duncan would’ve gone mental if he’d known. And I was getting distracted. The relationship curse.”
“What?” Chris laughed.
“I was so close to being held back again.”
“Why do you keep saying again?”
“Well look at us. Going nowhere for two years, and within six months of splitting up, we’re both promoted. It barely took you a month.”
“What are you going on about?”
Her relaxed tone fell away. She sat up in her chair, angling herself so she could watch him, her forehead twitching downward as she took him in.
“What do you mean?”
“Ivy, I never would’ve gotten the job if it wasn’t for you. If anything, the breakup slowed things down.”
“I—”
“The whole time we were together, you were constantly pushing me, making me better. Or you were supporting me so I could do the extra stuff. I thought I was doing that for you too, though admittedly my late-night dinner offerings when you were in the office weren’t quite as good as yours were for me.” He lifted his hand off the gear stick, squeezing her knee. “You’re amazing, and I’m sure we’d both have gotten here eventually, I’m not saying different. But our relationship felt like this big, solid platform, so climbing the ladder was really one little step, not this massive leap.”
She stared at him, wide eyed as he spoke. Static filled her ears as nearly three years of her life reorganised and remodelled itself in her mind.
“Fuck.” She slumped back against the seat, for once grateful for the, still ridiculously low, bucket seats that allowed her to feel appropriately swallowed into the ground.
“Are you good?” The crinkle of genuine concern across his forehead told her she had a type.
She exhaled through pursed lips. “Yeah. I will be.” She reached over and landed a play punch on his arm. “Do they teach you how to drop these wisdom bombs once you sign on the dotted partner line?”
* * *
Drinks were fine, she supposed. They’d been here over an hour and all the higher ups had been more than welcoming. At least half actually committed to remembering her name.
But the structured clothing chafed, and the drinks were expensive. Her feet hurt from standing around cocktail tables and she was bored of hearing about projections and bottom lines of projects her name would never be on.
She was relieved when her phone rang, saving her from a conversation with a senior VP about the upcoming financials when she really wanted to ask him who the smiling woman and child in his Lock Screen she kept catching glimpses of were. Ivy excused herself and stepped out of the bar, shoving down the glow in her chest when she saw the missed call was from Ross.
She shot him a text, letting him know she would be home in half an hour and would call him back.
Waving through the window at Chris and Duncan, she gave a non-committal gesture towards her phone, hoping that provided enough absolution as she scurried away.
His face was lighting up her laptop before her shoes were off, as she flicked the kettle on.
“Well, how was the first evening of your dream life?” Ross asked, without even a hint of edge to the question.
“It was good,” she replied, using her reach for a mug as an excuse to not have her face on camera when she did.
“And you, in general?”
“I can’t complain. How are you?”
“Ah, same. The documentary team are here at the minute, so it’s all a bit crazy.”
Ivy blew over the top of her tea a moment. Whilst the two of them were just going with the friendship dance, Kirsty and Ally remained at arms length. Mhairi had Mòr expertly handled, and cancer gave them plausible deniability, Ivy was sure. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still annoyed with her, Ally in particular who hadn’t so much as thumbed up a message since she’d left Lewis.
“How’s Kirsty?”
“Getting a mastectomy next week. Chemo after that. Missing you. Annoyed at me.” He shrugged.
“Misplaced annoyance turning out to be a thing, here.”
He let out a choked laugh. “She’s getting there. We’re getting there.”
“I’m glad.”
Ross fidgeted with the cushion on his lap, and she could see the cogs whirring behind his eyes. Eventually he cleared his throat and continued.
“Anyway, I just wanted to show you the pictures from the soft launch.”
The first boat trip had happened last weekend. She hadn’t been there, not that her being there was ever the plan, but somehow it stung more now. They’d agreed not to officially photograph it, but as he was going to be there anyway, and was trying to ease himself back into things, he’d said he take a few snaps.
Her phone buzzed as he sent across the images and she lifted it to look at them, grateful for the distraction
“Ross, these are stunning,” she said, laughing at a candid of a grumpy Tomas, caught out with a cigarette as clients queued in the background.
“Thanks. They’re not properly edited, but I’m rusty.”
She shot him a pointed look, before reaching a seemingly unrelated set of a smiling toddler.
“Who’s this?” She gushed, turning her phone screen to the camera.
“Oh sorry, I must have added that one by accident. She’s Coinneach’s wee one— he’s one of our cousins, down in Barra, I don’t know if you’d have met him.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“She’s a terror. But, yeah, cute,” he replied.
“And you’re taking plenty of pictures? Like, work stuff, now?”
“Yeah, actually.” He seemed to light up when he answered. “I’m over to Sutherland in a fortnight to do some work for an old friend.”
“Oh…” She paused too long, and he noticed. “No, that’s great. I’m so glad you’re getting back to it. You’re so talented.”
“Right.”
“Sorry. I’m just over in the Western Isles in a fortnight to catch up with the Tourism Office and I thought… But it’s fine.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well, no, I hadn’t told you.”
“No. Well. It’ll be good. Both of us. Living the dreams, eh?”
“Living the dream,” she echoed.
They wrapped it up shortly after, and once his face disappeared from the screen, Ivy flopped back on the sofa, put a cushion over her face, and screamed.