Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Amy
“I’ve arranged an appointment with the passport office tomorrow,” Ivan says, as he passes me a steaming cup of coffee. I’m propped up in bed, surrounded by pillows. My bedside clock reads three in the afternoon. Lance should be on a plane now, headed for New York.
“I called the hospital while you slept. Katie’s still stable.” His stunning blue eyes flick over my face, pausing as if checking I’m sane.
“How on earth did you get an appointment with the passport office on the twenty-seventh of December?” I ask, stunned.
“I know someone who knows someone. The important thing is you will get one and be able to travel whenever you want by the new year.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, struggling to control my emotions. He sits beside me, watching me drink my coffee. His knee brushes mine in quiet support.
“I was going to say I would come with you to Thailand.” Warm fingers stroke my cheek. “That’s why I was looking for my passport. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when I saw the expiration date. But with Katie…” I trail off.
“Flights can be rearranged,” he says. “We’ll still get to have sex on the beach.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes.
“Don’t act all coy. I bet you’ve been dreaming of me pounding you on the warm sand. And I can’t wait to have you all to myself in one of your sparkly bikinis. Promise me you’ll bring the pink triangle one. You look incredible strutting about in that on stage.”
“Those outfits aren’t actually meant as beachwear,” I say with a smile.
“I wasn’t thinking of you wearing it in the ocean.” He raises an eyebrow. “With a pair of killer heels, you’d look sensational wrapped around me in the bedroom.”
I lean forward and place a soft kiss on his lips. “You’re a dirty bastard,” I whisper against his mouth, “but bloody hell, I like it.”
“Good, because I intend on getting you fucking filthy.”
***
Ivan
I’ve never felt as possessive or protective over anyone as I do about Amy Corrigan. When she cried in my arms, I wanted desperately to be the one to help put her back together.
Nearly fifty years on this earth, and I finally understand what it means to want someone beyond the physical. When she smiles, I smile. When she’s hurting, all I want to do is hold her.
Her face lit up when I told her about the passport office appointment.
I almost jumped and punched the air like a schoolboy.
It had been a risk getting involved―she’s proud and independent, but I wanted her to have the choice to visit her friend.
The moment her shoulders dropped, I knew it was worth every phone call, every favor.
Sure, taking her to Thailand was also on my mind, but that would be an added bonus if she agreed to come. I wasn’t convinced she would.
Our fake relationship ruse has developed into something neither of us was expecting. That day at the shopping center, when I blurted out that she was my girlfriend, had consequences I could never have predicted.
In the moment, Amy was just the only option. If the Christmas Ball hadn’t been on that Saturday night, I would’ve thanked her for not blowing my cover with Virginia, then gone on my merry way.
Sure, I was enjoying my time with her that day, but I still thought she was a snarky bitch. Now that we’ve spent days together, I see she’s been dealt a shitty hand these past few years, and her first instinct is to protect herself. Always.
I don’t want her to feel she needs to protect herself from me. Ever.
***
We walk down the passport office steps together, hand in hand, on the thirtieth of December. Amy clutches the little blue book between her fingers.
“I still can’t believe you managed to arrange this,” she mutters. “Who you know really does matter.”
I peep at her and raise my eyebrow. “Sometimes it helps,” I say, non-committal.
What I don’t want to tell her is I paid the manager handsomely for going against protocol and jumping her up the queue. At first, I’d been told to wait until the new year like everyone else. Who you know can help, but money tends to get results. It’s something I’ve grown accustomed to.
“Shall we get a coffee? Maybe a slice of cake?”
“Cake?” she squeals. “Ivan, I have a competition tomorrow. At your gym, unless that’s slipped your mind?”
I shrug.
“My abs will disappear below the bloat if I eat cake today.”
“Okay, you drink water, and I’ll have cake as I won’t be prancing about in my underwear tomorrow.”
“Perhaps you could do that for me after the event?” she says with a wink. “You’d look completely fuckable in a string bikini.”
I laugh and shake my head. The bubbly Amy I’ve come to adore is starting to reappear as her anxiety recedes. Lance has been keeping us updated on Katie’s condition. She’s still unconscious but improving. The doctors are more confident she will make a full recovery.
“I’m slightly concerned about your bedroom kinks, if me in a posing bikini tickles your fancy,” I tell her. “Come on, let’s get a drink. Worry about the competition later. It’s the holidays.”
I grab her hand and tug her toward a small coffee shop across the street. The windows are fogged from heaters inside, twinkling fairy lights pressed against the glass. The small room is packed with old pine tables and chairs. Most are set for two people. We find a free one at the back.
London has embraced the festive season in all its glory, providing us with snow on the ground and plenty of ice to slip on.
We unwrap ourselves from our heavy coats, throwing them over the backs of our chairs. Amy slides her delicate hands from her wool gloves and places the discarded garments on the table beside her. She smiles softly, her fingers twisting together.
She looks nervous. The kind of nervous that makes her sneak a look at me when she thinks I’m not watching.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to New York?” I ask again.
“No,” she replies. “Lance is there. He will let us know if anything changes. He won’t leave until she wakes up. I hope she does the right thing this time and gives him a chance. He adores her.”
“I’m sure she’ll do what she thinks is right when the time comes.”
“That’s the problem.” She sighs. “She was so busy thinking about what everyone else’s opinion was of their relationship, she threw away the best thing that’s ever happened to her. People can be so stupid sometimes.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or to herself. I place my hand over hers.
She looks up, apologetic. “Sorry, I’m being miserable.”
“It’s completely understandable,” I tell her. “Katie’s going to be fine. The right person is by her side. You have your passport, so you can go whenever you want to. Everything is on the mend.”
“What about Thailand?” she asks, surprising me.
“Thailand will still be there in a few weeks or months. If you still want to go.”
“Can we go on the fourth of January like you planned?”
I’m taken aback. My heart rate spikes in quiet excitement. I’d assumed she’d want to stay home.
“Of course, if you want to, we can.”
“Good, I want to,” she says. “I promised Bex and Katie that I would live my life and stop obsessing over the future. Going to Thailand with you is me doing that. We don’t know where this is going, but I want to enjoy every moment of it before it ends.”
“What makes you think it will end?” I ask abruptly. Her words cut deep.
“Everything ends, Ivan. Nothing lasts forever. I’ve learned to accept that you can’t expect even the strongest relationships to continue. Someone always leaves or dies. I’ve watched it happen time and again. I’ve lived it.”
“And you’re certain that will happen with us?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well… are we even an us?” she asks. “When was the last time you were in a committed relationship?”
I pause to think. “What do you mean by committed? Give me some parameters.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Not just someone you have sex with.”
“Um,” I admit, “I’ve never had a relationship last longer than a few months.”
Suddenly, I’m embarrassed by my dating history. I can’t think of one woman I planned a future with. I’ve always been happy on my own. Until now, until Amy. The idea of her choosing someone else turns my stomach.
“It’s okay, Ivan,” she says. “I’ve heard about your reputation. I know you don’t do serious relationships. Let’s go to Thailand and have some fun. Then we can return home and go our separate ways. Dating me wasn’t in your plan, I know that.”
“If that’s what you want,” I mumble.
“Don’t you?” She narrows her eyes, examining me like she’s trying to see into my skull.
“Of course, I don’t do commitment,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “Shall we order some drinks?”
But even as I say it, my gut twists. Because for the first time in my entire life, it’s not true.