11. Ivy
CHAPTER 11
Ivy
“ O kay, but seriously, Ivy, are you sure about this?” Astraea asks. I turn around to look at her fully.
“This is the first time you’ve asked,” I muse.
“This is the first time it feels like you’re running.”
And there it is.
“I’m not.”
“What about you and Em?—”
“There has never been anything between Emmett and me,” I immediately say, cutting her off before my courage can dwindle. “And besides, you were there that Christmas when he politely made things clear with me.”
I’m proud of how my voice stays at the same soft and calm level, not shaky at all.
My expression is still the same.
My heart still beats the same.
I’m at the point now where saying his name doesn’t matter to me, but my two best friends just stare blankly.
The thing is, they think there should be some kind of sweet love story between Emmett and me, but there’s nothing.
No fate means no fate.
“That Christmas he said he doesn’t and he will never feel that way for me,” I say quietly, holding Knight in my arms as firmly as I can without squeezing him. “And didn’t you just read that poem?”
“Hmm, you’re different these days,” Astraea presses.
“You’re doing that shrinking thing again!” I accuse.
“I’m not! That was just an observation but you, my dear, are protesting quite a bit there.”
I glare at her, then I look down at the baby on my lap who’s still watching me. “Knight, when you’re sick and tired of your parents, my doors will always be open and I’m no snitch, so you’ll be safe with me.”
“You told Laura the same thing!” Kim points out. “And I’m pretty sure you meant it.”
“Of course I did! I know y’all. All of you are a trip for sane people, I can’t imagine being raised by any of you!”
“Hmmm, she’s kinda right.” Kim nods after a while. “It’s good to have a fail-safe. With the way we were all raised, who knows what we might become.”
“Of all of us, Ivy, you’re the only one who was raised in a loving and supportive environment. You weren’t raised around conspiracy, vengeance, hatred or greed,” Astraea murmurs silently while looking at Knight.
I fall silent, not daring to look at either of them.
“Well… you can debunk whatever ridiculous memories that just flashed in both of your minds because I know neither of you will be, or are, a bad mother!” I say softly but firmly. “Kim, you’ve literally raised your sisters well, right from the start, even!”
“But—”
“Yes, we’re all still grieving right now, and it’ll take time, but you never once tapped out on both your sisters. Especially when things were the hardest, and those fucking bastards tried taking them away from you. You held on strong and you fought hard, so chuck that thought from that pretty head of yours.”
I hold her gaze for a minute then turn to Astraea.
“And, you, don’t think I don’t know the real reason why you chose to study Psychology. You wanted to understand for yourself the decisions your mother made, to undo the hurt from all the times you misunderstood her in a way that you grew up resenting her and feeling like she never loved you. That alone shows me you’re determined to not make the same mistakes and you want to live this fucking life to the fullest.”
I look between the two of them.
Most things we don’t really rehash anymore, because why talk about the almost overdosing, the almost drowning, and the many traumas over the years?
Those are all pains.
Those are results of heartbreaks and disappointment, but they’re also survival scars.
“I’ve watched both of you, been with you, and I know you’re both putting in the work to heal, so stop with that nonsense. Anything that makes you feel like you can’t do this anymore is either a lie or a bad memory,” I say firmly. “Lies we can cancel out immediately because we know the truth. As for the bad memories? We can simply drown them out with the good.”
When Knight is done burping, I hold him up, smiling up at him despite myself.
“Isn’t this all part of the good? All of us, here, having some well-deserved peace for once?” I ask, my voice catching at the end. “We lost Casey but she’s now a glowing star in the sky, watching over us together with my grandpa. Laura is killing it, experimenting shit we’ve never heard of before because we’re all dumb compared to her. Baby Claire is now talking, and she just started ballet,” I say, referring to Astraea’s niece, George’s daughter. “And look at the mighty Knight King! Look at how he’s growing so beautifully!”
I coo at Knight until he starts giggling, with his chubby fists against his equally chubby cheeks.
“And lastly, you two overthinking heifers, look at yourselves! You’re all here. Isn’t this good? The rest we can figure out later, the fuck are you being anxious for?”
When nothing but silence greets me, I look up, only to see that sometime during my lengthy, emotional speech, the room filled up.
Alex King and Noah Montreal are now here, and together with a teary-eyed Raea and Kim, they’re all watching me.
If my blush were visible, I’d die twice from embarrassment, but thank God for my brown skin!
“You’re so right, Ivy my darlin’,” Noah speaks first, with a rare solemn look on his face as he looks tenderly at his fiancée, Kim. “We should focus on the good. The rest we can figure out later.”
“Dr. Ivy Marie Irving,” King says while looking at his wife, Astraea, then back at me. “You’re both wise and a much-needed breath of fresh air.”
I stare at him, almost stunned.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! A compliment from Knight King’s father? Is the sky falling?” I gasp.
“Blasphemy! I always compliment you!” he says as if offended, but his eyes are smiling.
“With snide remarks and a cold face! It always looks like you’re cursing me out!”
“Like he could disrespect you and still breathe,” Noah says with a chuckle. “He’d be put out like a dog.”
The room bursts out in laughter.
George and his family are not here tonight. Apparently, no one knows where they went but there are still some things we just ignore.
Just as I start relaxing, naively thinking I’ve escaped the scrutiny, Astraea asks the hard question. “So you’ve decided? You’re now clear?”
The room falls silent as all eyes track back to me.
The thing is, my life, as boring and pathetic as it’s been, has always been predictable.
Everyone in this room in a way knows what Astraea’s question means.
The sickening thing about unrequited love is that it’s as plain as day—not just for the one who feels it, but to everyone around as well, including the people you wish would rather be blind to it.
And sadly, that includes the subject of such torturous, pathetic feelings.
And that’s the part that hurts most.
Not just because of the embarrassment but because the person you can’t seem to get over, the person you imagine giving you forehead kisses, holding your hand, loving you as intensely as you desire to be loved, that person is fully aware of your feelings but they just don’t give a damn.
In fact, some days you can tell they feel sorry for you. That part makes me sick.
Other days, it feels good, liking them from a distance, but with Emmett, distance and time never mattered.
I just kept feeling.
But two Christmases ago, the guy I’d been crushing on all my life, the one who keeps me up at night, the one who comes to mind whenever I think of passion and whenever I think of love , whenever I think of what forever means… he told me that he’d never feel for me like that.
So, I’m focusing on my life and getting answers now. Starting with finding my parents.
“Are you asking if I’m now clear about Emmett Easton?” I ask.
Not waiting for an answer, I get up, then hold Knight to me. I clear my throat and with all the confidence I can muster, I face the room.
“Hear me, hear me, oh ye nosy asshats. I, Ivy Marie Irving, no longer have any feelings for Emmett Easton.”
Eyes widen. Smirks appear, and loud side-eyes are given, but I ignore it all and continue.
“For as long as we both live, there will never be anything between us. Not a touch, a kiss, hell, not even a look. In fact, I’m pretty sure if Emmett was the last man on earth, I’d never feel a damn thing for him, let alone be anything to him. Me? I’m about to go get fucked in New York City by a man I met two months ago, so my virginity will be a non-issue soon. So, Noah, be a dear and get me a virginity breaking cake and FedEx it to me, 'kay?”
When I’m done with my very passionate speech, I’m breathing hard, trying to ignore the pain in my chest.
I look at the room but it’s then that I notice that no one is looking at me at all.
But they sure as hell were listening… along with the person they’re all watching…
A person who’s glaring daggers at me, as he looms large in the wide doorway.
Holy shit!
When did he get here? Did he hear what I just said?
Everything in me comes to a screeching halt as I stare unabashed at the reverting image that is Emmett fucking Easton.
Messy, devil-may-care dark hair that’s just begging me to run my fingers through and make him mine.
A sharp, chiseled jaw I’ve dreamed of kissing a million times over, second only to his lips. And talking about those utterly kissable lips, they are pressed into a fine line as he glares at me with his sharp, cold, unrelenting emerald green eyes that have featured in my dreams and nightmares almost all my life.
He’s huge, looking larger than life, like a distant majestic, snow-capped mountain. And when his perfectly chiseled jaw clenches, something wild and erratic settles in my core.
Oh fuck.
An acute frisson of electric awareness hits me square between my legs as I stare.
I can’t help but take him in, from his huge, broad shoulders that are hugged by a simple but fitting black t-shirt that showcases his tattooed cannon arms, bulging biceps, all the way to his narrow hips encased by a pair of simple black joggers.
I’ve studied the human body so fucking hard in my life but nothing, not a drawing in a book or the case studies I’ve seen on film at school, can come close to Emmett Easton.
His physique alone would make a sculptor weak but me, I just want to run my hands all over him.
He’s strong, a prime example of what it means to be the most primal, most virile, masculine beast of a man.
He easily towers above all the men in the room, and with him comes a cold, dangerously lethal aura that shifts over the room in a way that makes me almost tremble.
But he’s always made me tremble.
In fear, in faux excitement, and in tears.
Suddenly, the lighthearted and humorous atmosphere that was in the room a while ago is all gone, replaced by a sharp tension that makes my heart pound…painfully.
It’s like the earth has stopped spinning and I’m cast in a black hole where time means absolutely nothing.
And nothing says abyss more than staring into the eyes of this man.
Something aggressive flares in Emmett’s sharp gaze as he stares back at me. A tingling sensation goes down my spine and then the rest of my body.
This stare… Emmett has never looked at me like that before.
He’s always so indifferent and sees everyone as insignificant pests, but he’s never looked at me like he wants to wring my neck and then rip my corpse apart with his bare hands for good measure.
There’s an acute danger in the air. It’s directed at me, I know, but I can’t look away.
Those emerald eyes hold me captive, binding me stronger than any chain or rope… as if daring me for something.
Demanding something from me.
Emmett moves then, and before I can suck in a breath, he’s right in front of me, looming over me, surrounding me, sucking me into his universe when I just made a declaration that I’d never be part of it.
Goosebumps appear on my arms almost instantly.
I can feel the blood in my veins surging, like a violent current ready to sink me, but somehow, I manage to hold his gaze… craning my neck to do so.
Something uncomfortable is happening between my legs that I start getting an urge to bring my hand down there.
A throbbing starts. I feel like I’m slipping.
What’s happening?
But then, he speaks.
His voice is low, soft even, but it feels like it’s coming from the other side of the sky. Majestic, deep, refined with a timbre that could make me come if I listen long enough.
“You’ll forget me?” he murmurs coldly, echoing my words from just moments ago. Then with a knowing look, he glances at the iPad to my left. The screen is still on. He looks back at me with a cruel smirk. “But you… Where did you learn this, to want what does not want you?”
His words… those words, the same words at the end of Warsan Shire’s poem that I was just reading… he just recited them to me!
He could’ve slapped me and I wouldn’t be this shocked.
The impassive look on his face, coupled by the cold look in his eyes and the words he just said . “To want what does not want you…”
But those words don’t sound like just words from a piece of art anymore. They sound just as Emmett intended them to sound.
Mocking.
Scathing.
Destroying…
As the realization sinks in, tears well up in my eyes.
Before I can let them fall in front of anyone, I quickly hand him the baby, mumble something about needing to use the bathroom, then before a fat tear drops to the floor, I turn on my heel and run… with my shattered heart matching the fucked-up one that beats in his chest.
Slow.
Tortured.
And savagely torn up.