Chapter 23 Ivy
IVY
I know what day it is the moment I wake up.
It settles in my chest before I open my eyes—steady, warm, and deliberate. It’s not nerves, but anticipation. The kind that doesn’t flutter or rush. The kind that already knows impatience would ruin everything.
I take my time getting ready.
There’s no frantic energy. No second-guessing. I move through my morning on autopilot.
In the mirror, I study myself critically—not with insecurity, but with strategy.
What would Sebastian notice? Precision. Control. Intention.
I’m all those things—and a ray of sunshine, too.
I bypass the dress hanging in my closet and reach for my jeans—dark, fitted, with clean lines. A black top that skims my waist without trying to impress it. Heels I can walk in, not teeter on.
I choose earrings he’s seen before. Something familiar enough to feel deliberate.
My hair stays down. I put some big curls in it. The kind he pretends not to notice but always does.
The thought comes clean and easy— This isn’t about Aaron.
Aaron is pleasant. Kind. Interested in me.
He doesn’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy being watched, which already puts him in a very different category.
But today isn’t about him. Not romantically, anyway.
Today is about Sebastian.
To remind him what it feels like when I’m not around.
I’m well aware he was watching Aaron and me at the café. Listening to what we said. He knows where I’ll be today.
The thought makes me smile.
I apply my lipstick carefully, pressing my lips together once, then twice. The pink lipstick I always wear. The one I used to draw a heart on Sebastian’s mirror.
I catch my reflection again and feel something like calm settle into place.
If Sebastian comes, he’ll see exactly what I want him to see.
If he doesn’t... I exhale slowly.
Then I’ll learn something.
Either way, I’m ready.
I arrive five minutes early.
The café hums with its usual rhythm. Low conversation. Steam hissing. Cups and plates clinking. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
I choose a table near the window in the middle of the café. Somewhere visible. Neutral.
I set my bag down and check my phone. 12:56.
Aaron spots me almost immediately, his face lighting up as he finishes with a customer. He wipes his hands on a towel and walks over, an easy smile already in place.
“You made it,” he says.
“I said I would,” I reply, smiling back.
He laughs. “I know. I just like confirmation.” He gestures toward the counter. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please.”
He heads back to make it, and I settle into my chair, crossing my legs slowly. I take in the room—not searching, exactly. Just… watching.
The door opens. Someone leaves, and another person enters.
It’s not him.
Aaron returns with my coffee, setting it down carefully in front of me. “On the house,” he says. “For being punctual.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him.
He grins and pulls out the chair across from me. “I’ve been practicing.”
We talk easily at first about how busy the café’s been, the new pastry they’re testing, and how Thursdays always feel longer than they should.
I listen. I respond. I’m present.
But I’m still paying attention to the time on my phone.
1:05.
At 1:08, I decide I’m officially past the point where someone arrives “fashionably late” and into the territory of “making a statement.”
I don’t look at the door anymore. There’s no point. If Sebastian were coming, I’d feel it before I saw him.
That awareness—the one that hums low in my chest when he’s near—never arrives.
A flicker of disappointment passes through me—quick, sharp, then gone almost as soon as I acknowledge it.
Aaron says something that makes me laugh, and this time it’s real.
His smile widens. “You have a pretty laugh.”
“Thanks,” I say. “You caught it on a good day.”
He looks pleased, then thoughtful. “I’m glad you came today.”
“So am I,” I reply. And I mean it.
I wrap my fingers around the mug, warmth seeping into my palms. I take a slow sip and let myself feel the moment for what it is and not what I hoped it might be.
Sebastian didn’t come.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t aware. Or that he doesn’t care.
It means he made a choice.
And choices always tell me what I need to know.
Aaron glances toward the counter. “I’ve got to get back, but I’ll check in before my break, okay?”
“Okay,” I say easily.
He hesitates, then adds, “Thanks for coming by.”
I meet his eyes. “You’re welcome. Thanks for hanging out with me.”
His eyes twinkle. “Anytime.”
He walks away, and I sit there a moment longer, alone with my coffee and my thoughts. The bustle of the café continues around me, unbothered by the shift that just occurred.
Aaron returns before his break. I tell him I need to go. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.
I like Aaron.
But my heart belongs to someone else.
He looks slightly disappointed, but says he understands. I pat his arm and smile, promising to come around again soon. That seems to appease him.
I finish my drink, gather my things, and stand.
As I walk toward the door, I feel lighter—not dismissed or defeated.
Outside, the air is crisp. I pause on the sidewalk, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
As I walk away, the ghost of Sebastian lingers.
He wanted distance. Boundaries.
I gave it to him.
And now we’ll see if he can live with it.