Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I just miss him so much.”
Ivy nodded even though Brad couldn’t see her and stepped into her new pajama bottoms. Buying pajamas at Costco had to be an early warning sign of a quarter-life crisis, but if discount brushed flannel was wrong, Ivy didn’t want to be right.
“I’m trying not to be clingy, but I’m so anxious he’s going to forget about me or move on to someone more available,” Brad continued. “I should’ve called out and stayed.”
“Because calling out sick while you’re on vacation has never backfired on anyone in our industry ever,” Ivy replied, laying on the sarcasm extra thick so he wouldn’t miss it. “Where are you today?”
“Las Vegas. I didn’t even want to go out. I slam-clicked and called Tony. That’s how you know I’ve got it bad.”
“Flying domestic and staying indoors? Who are you and what did you do with my Bradley?” Ivy sat on her bed and started to braid her hair. The dry winter air was murder on her curls, and she was on the verge of giving up until she could get home to her extensive product collection.
“I’m trying to figure out how to rearrange my schedule so I can head back and see him.”
“Promise me you’re not going to throw away our hard-earned seniority to fly for a regional that has a base in Milwaukee.”
“Have you seen him? Does he look as depressed as I feel?”
The silent film stars who were over the top by necessity had nothing on her best friend.
“I’m hanging up and going to bed now. I love you. Good night.”
Ivy hung up before Brad could say anything else, partly because she knew he’d ask more questions about Tony, and partly because she was afraid he’d ask her about Grant.
She’d waited all day for a text, a phone call, even a carrier pigeon that never came. Either Grant was deep in the bowels of his bowels trying to find his head, or he didn’t care enough to bother looking. It was likely the latter, because he’d had enough time to play in the snow with Austin.
To combat not checking her phone every fifteen minutes, Ivy had poured herself into cleaning the house.
Not packing, but cleaning. Packing took up more mental energy than she had to expend, but cleaning was cathartic.
Shoving the vacuum nozzle attachment between the couch cushions felt a lot like stabbing something, and scrubbing the tub was mindless, repetitive motion.
The cleaning needed to be done before the party anyway.
For the next twenty-four hours, she was going to insist her parents ate over the trash can to catch any crumbs.
Smack!
Something hit her window hard. She got up to see what it was and instinctively dropped to the floor when something white hit the window and exploded.
A snowball.
The moon was bright and reflected off the snow-covered ground, bathing the world outside her window in silvery light. Grant was packing another snowball between his hands when Ivy threw open her window.
“What are you doing?” she whispered loudly, her heart still trying to pound out of her chest from his first two projectiles. “Are you seriously throwing snowballs at my window?”
“Seemed safer than rocks and more original than holding a radio over my head.” Grant smiled at her, and she squashed the butterflies in her stomach with a hammer.
“Clearly you don’t remember Say Anything very well because the radio thing didn’t work. Ione Skye let John Cusack stand outside all night.”
“But did John Cusack have a surprise?”
That piqued her interest. “What surprise?”
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you. If I just told you, it would be an announcement.”
“At the rate this conversation is going, I’ll be lucky if you make a point, let alone an announcement.”
Grant grinned wider, and some of her fiery resolve faded.
“Come outside so I can show you.”
“I am in my pajamas and it’s cold outside. Do you see that snow?” She pointed at the ground. “That wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t below freezing, Grant.”
His smile didn’t falter. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Ivy channeled Brad and sighed dramatically. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“And you shouldn’t. Yet.”
Hastings was seated outside her door and meowed loudly as soon as she opened it, like the dumbest orange burglar alarm to have ever lived.
“Shhh.”
He bounded past her and jumped onto her bed, reclaiming his spot on her pillow. Furry freeloader.
Even though she wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving the house no matter the hour, she crept down the stairs on her tiptoes because she didn’t want to answer any questions about where she was going or why.
Ivy took her coat off the hook by the door, shoved her feet into her boots, and only opened the door wide enough to slip out.
Grant was waiting for her at the corner of the house, his hands in his pockets.
“I found my head,” he told her.
“What?” She had no idea what he meant.
“My head. You told me not to talk to you until I found my head up my ass.”
She had said that. She remembered now. “How far up was it?”
“Really, really far.”
“Is that why you dragged me outside? To tell me you found your head up your ass? Because this is starting to feel like a meeting that could’ve been an email.
” She did her best to glare at him but feared the goofy smile on his face indicated that her ire held no power.
“Where’s the surprise I was promised? Or do you always lure pajama-clad women into the tundra under false pretenses? ”
Grant put a leading hand on her lower back and guided her around the house. “It’s in the tree house.”
“I have to climb? You did not disclose there would be feats of strength.”
“I will be right behind you the whole time,” he promised.
“So you can stare at my ass?” She hoped he wanted to stare at her ass. She wasn’t going to tell him that, but she’d be severely disappointed if he didn’t at least try to ogle her.
“Safety first. How can I catch you if I’m not watching you?”
Ivy rolled her eyes hard so there wasn’t any way Grant could misinterpret the expression.
She grasped the sides of the ladder and put her foot on the second rung, boosting herself up. “Is this new wood?”
“Climb, Ivy.”
She scaled the steps of the tree house with rusted ease and hauled herself inside. Grant was right on her heels and bumped into her in the dark room.
“Is my surprise that you’re going to murder me by pushing me out of the tree house to make it look like an accident? Because I can find several flaws in your plan.”
Grant’s warm chuckle caressed her nerves. “And what flaws are those?”
“It’s not high enough, there’s snow to break my fall, Hastings saw me come out here so you’re one pet psychic away from an eyewitness…”
“I think Hastings could be bribed with a can of tuna and some catnip.”
There was a soft click, then the tree house was bathed in the soft yellow glow of fairy lights that had been hung around the perimeter and across the ceiling.
There was a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor.
The walls were…real walls. Growing up, the walls had been the bare boards that made the structure of the tree house.
“Did you…drywall?”
“And insulated. Now it will be tolerably cold in the winter and only sort-of hot in the summer. Go look at the windows.”
Curious, Ivy went to the window and opened the gauzy curtain, which was a new addition, too.
“It’s a real window!” She pressed her hand against the cold glass pane.
“But wait, there’s more.” Grant reached around her and flicked open the catch with a finger. The window swung out. A delighted laugh bubbled up from the depths of Ivy’s soul. “So you like it?”
“Seven-year-old me is incredibly jealous right now.” Ivy looked up at him. “You fixed the tree house for me?”
He scrunched his face. “Technically, I fixed it for Gemma’s Christmas present.
I wanted her to be able to play up here like we did, but without all the splinters.
” Grant closed the window. “I thought of you the entire time I was working on it, though. About how much you loved the tree house and how much time you spent in here. Do you like it?”
Ivy’s heart thumped. “I love it,” she whispered.
Grant took her hand and guided her to the cozy nest of blankets and pillows. They sat next to each other, their backs to the wall. He pulled a blanket over their laps.
“The lights are on batteries. I’m still trying to figure out how to run electricity up here.”
“It’s perfect,” Ivy said, looking at the glittering lights. “Gemma’s going to love it.”
“Ivy.” Grant put a hand on her knee and squeezed. “I need to say some things and I need you to just listen because, well, being around you inhibits my brain function, and if I get off track, I might never find my way back.”
The earnest pleading around the corners of his eyes and the edges of his voice made her stomach drop, but she pressed her lips together and nodded.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. When it comes to you…
I am incredibly jealous. When you said you’d been hanging out with Austin all day when I hadn’t even heard from you, I lost it.
Suddenly I was nineteen again, and you were telling me you were in love with him.
I thought I was going to be reliving the worst moment of my life, but it was going to be even more devastating, because this time, I’d know what it was like to have you, even a little bit. ”
Her heart clutched. It was so tempting to interrupt him to ask him questions, but her fear that if she stopped him he’d never start again outweighed her curiosity.
“So, yeah, my head was very, very far up my ass yesterday. But at least I made it through this time without any broken bones.” He flexed his right hand and made a fist. “Remember how I told you that the night of the…incident, I broke my hand and that’s why I didn’t come apologize right away?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, well, I broke it punching the house.”
“What?” Ivy blurted.