Chapter 15
IAN
The front door creaked open, and I looked up from stirring the pasta. “Tink?”
Keys landed in the basket in the hallway with a jingle, and Ivy came around the corner of the kitchen. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Cooking dinner.”
I spread my arms, water dripping onto the floor from the slotted spoon in my hand. “I’m making some creamy salmon pasta, just to thank you and Chloe for letting me crash here for the past two weeks.”
Ivy stared at me with rounded eyes, her cheeks pale. “Are you alright? Where’s Chloe?”
“She went to a meeting. I thought she’d be home by now.”
She retreated to the sitting room and placed her bag on top of the coffee table. “You didn’t have to do this. Where’d you get the salmon?”
“At that fresh fish shop on Colorado. Road your bike.”
I tilted my head to the side. “You sure you’re okay? You look knackered. Did you get a lot of work done?”
“Not really. You?”
She waved a hand at my laptop still set up for my music production, next to her bag.
“I got loads done. Sent stuff over to Hugh.”
The sauce on the stove started bubbling, and I turned down the heat beneath it. “I’m giving you writing credit on two of the songs.”
“What? No.”
She sank down on the edge of the table, her shoulders rounded. “Why would you do that? I don’t deserve it.”
“You contributed so many lyrics to ‘Muse’ and ‘Van at the Greek.’ Those are my working titles for two of the songs. You helped me so much, and that’s the way it works. Those songs wouldn’t be what they are without your input. Your way with words and turn of phrase—Hugh agreed. Dead unique, they are.”
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, her chin dropping to her chest. I turned off everything on the stove and ate up the distance between us in a few long strides. Kneeling in front of her, I asked, “What’s wrong? Did something happen when you were out? Did you read something?”
God, I hoped Jessica hadn’t made good on her threats already. Had Ivy seen something about me? Jack would’ve warned me if something had popped up. It was like playing a game of whack-a-mole.
Her head jerked up, and her lips stretched into a smile as she placed her hands on my shoulders. “I’m just tired. Bad day writing. Couldn’t get anything to work.”
Maybe my impending departure was playing havoc with her emotions. I felt it too, but I was just trying to hold onto the thought that I’d be with her after a short while. I began to gather her to my chest, and she flung herself at me so wildly we both wound up on the floor with her on top.
She laughed suddenly, dispelling the shadows on her face, and kissed me hard on the mouth. “How can I help you in the kitchen?”
Before we could roll to our feet, Chloe sailed through the front door and tripped to a stop. “Oh my God. Are you two doing it on the living room floor now?”
I sat up with Ivy straddling me. “We’ve already done it here. This time we just fell.”
“Figures.”
Chloe sniffed the air. “What is that yummy smell? I know that’s not Ivy’s cooking.”
“Ian is cooking us salmon and pasta for letting him stay here.”
“How sweet.”
Chloe slid her sunglasses to the end of her nose. “I suppose he hasn’t seen our bill, yet.”
I staggered to my feet, with Ivy clinging to my body. “I’m gonna miss your humor, Chloe.”
“Who says I’m joking?”
She stopped at the door leading to the hallway. “What time is dinner?”
“About thirty minutes.”
I carried Ivy to the kitchen and set her down. “Do you want to make the salad?”
“I can make salad, and don’t you start on my culinary talents.”
She smacked me on my backside.
“You have other talents that make up for your lack of expertise in the kitchen.”
The knots in my gut loosened as Ivy regained her regular sunny disposition. I thought she’d been about to collapse when she came home, and she looked ready to break into tears when I told her about dinner and the song credit. Must’ve had a bad day.
Later, we shared some laughs with Chloe over dinner, and I played some of the new songs for them. Then Ivy had a surprise request as we were cleaning up the dishes.
“Can we go back to the pier tonight and ride the Ferris wheel again? It closes at ten o’clock, so we have just over an hour.”
I parted the curtains over the kitchen sink. “It’s foggy again. We won’t see the view.”
“I know. That’s why I want to go.”
She curled her fingers around mine in the soapy water. “I want to head back into that cocoon with you one more time.”
A flicker of fear pinged my brain, but I shook it off. “We’d better bundle up. Baby, it’s cold outside.”
“Jeans and hoodies, it is.”
***
I insisted on buying the fifteen-dollar tickets, and we didn’t even have to wait in line. The fun fair was almost closed, and apparently the kids were back in school. We climbed into one of the cars. This time we didn’t have to pretend or deny our attraction to each other, and we snuggled up in one corner of the red vinyl seat.
Once the operator loaded everyone, the wheel cranked into motion. A solid wall of white obscured our view of the ocean and much of the horizon, except for a thin, dark blue line in the distance.
I pulled her hands into my lap, and she dropped her head on my shoulder. She let out a little gasp each time our car dropped over the peak of the wheel. The fog buffeted us on all sides, the moisture playing havoc with Ivy’s hair, curling the ends.
I threaded my fingers through her lush locks and turned her head so I could kiss her mouth. Her lips moved beneath mine, soft and sweet with the vanilla ice cream we’d had for dessert.
I slipped her hand beneath my sweatshirt and pressed it against my chest, over my heart. She whispered against my kiss. “I wanna stay up here forever.”
Like a couple of teenagers, we made out on the Ferris wheel, snogging and groping and stroking and sighing, as if we hadn’t already gone all the way—several times. All too soon, the ride ended and when our car clunked back to Earth at the starting point, the jarring motion seemed to signal an end to something, a return to reality.
A breath of sadness wafted across my cheek, but I dismissed it. I couldn’t wait to start this new reality with Ivy by my side. All things seemed possible.
She must’ve felt the sorrow, too, as silence prevailed on the ride back to her place. She seemed content to leave her hand in mine or have me stroke her thigh or her arm as she drove. But we had to close this chapter to start the new one.
When we got home, we wasted no time tumbling into bed, but while I would’ve been happy to fuck her silly, she slowed my hand. With both of us naked, she straddled me as I sat on the edge of the bed. Intimately connected, chest to chest, face to face, I entered her as I stared into her eyes.
She rose and fell against me, and I drove into her slick creaminess. Rubbing her pussy against my pelvis, she grabbed my head, digging her fingers into my scalp. I slid my hand between our bodies, my fingers finding her clit. As I stroked her, she threw her head back and moaned.
Seconds later, she came all over my cock, and I fell back on the bed and flipped positions. She wrapped her legs around me as I pounded into her, abandoning the slow and gentle mood. I came hard and fast, shooting my cum deep inside her, a primeval need to possess her taking over my senses.
She took me in, enveloping me with her arms and legs as we rocked back and forth as one. The rhythm slowed and she loosened her grip on me. I slid from her body and buried my head in the crook her neck. I breathed out the first words that came to my head. “I love you.”
Did she move? Did she answer? My body and mind were so satiated, I didn’t know or care. As I drifted off, she caressed my face, and her lips brushed against my throat. Did she say it back?
***
I woke up on my last full day in LA in high spirits, energized and focused. We’d spend the morning during the foggy hours at the museum, and then when the sun broke through in the afternoon, we’d have lunch in Malibu—not at Nobu—and maybe take a walk on the beach.
Ivy had risen before me and managed to sneak out of bed without making a sound. I grabbed my underwear, in case Chloe was home, and sauntered into the kitchen.
Ivy, her laptop in front of her on the table, snapped it shut, a frown twisting her mouth.
Coming up behind her, I ruffled her hair. “Still having problems with your book?”
“Writer’s block. Can’t figure out what comes next.”
She pressed her hands on top of her computer, as if willing words to seep onto on the pages of her book. I’d been there.
“Come on my run with me. That always clears my head.”
“As long as you don’t sprint. I’m not gonna match your pace. I’d collapse.”
Cupping my hand under her chin, I tilted her head back to kiss her upside down. “I’ll never leave your side, Ivy.”
She ducked away from me and jumped up from her chair. “I’m going to take a quick shower first. Do you want to eat anything before we go?”
“I’ll grab a banana. I’m gonna skip the shower, so I’ll be ready when you are.”
When Ivy left the room, I checked my phone and swore when I saw the text from Jack. I tapped it and read the rest with a growing sense of dread creeping through my body like sludge. It always started with something small and innocuous like this—just innuendo. That’s how the dick pic scandal began, just gossip until the pictures went online. Maybe Chloe could track the source of these newest rumors and act preemptively.
I didn’t need this shit right now. Ivy already had her doubts about coming with me. If she got an inkling of another smear campaign against me on the horizon, it just might push her over the edge.
I texted Jack back that we could look into the issue when I returned to England. I didn’t understand my ex, Jessica. The pictures of me with Ivy in the tabloids must’ve set her off. She couldn’t possibly want me back. If she did, she had some odd reconciliation tactics.
I snapped a banana from the bunch and peeled it. I ate it in about four bites on my way to the bedroom. Ivy had finished her shower, and she almost fell over stepping into her running shorts as I surprised her.
“Careful you don’t hurt yourself before we even start running.”
I put on some shorts and a tank and retrieved my trainers from the corner of the bedroom.
“Don’t forget your Dodger hat. And sunglasses.”
She pulled open the blinds and pressed her nose against the window. “Even haze like this can make you squint. Maybe you should wear your running jacket. It looks chilly out there.”
Ever since the paparazzi ambush, Ivy suggested I cover up thoroughly every time we went out. She didn’t want to take any chances that I’d be recognized.
I gave her a mock salute. “Hat, sunglasses, but I really have to draw the line at the jacket. I’d be ripping it off less than a mile into the run.”
She paused adjusting her running bra and bugged her eyes out at me. “Mile? Just how far are we running? I think two miles is my max. I mean, three miles is a 5K race.”
“Okay, Miss Roadrunner. Two miles it is, but that’s down to the beach and back.”
Throwing my hat at me, she said, “We can jog down to the beach, and you can run around for another two miles while I have an ice cream at the pier, waiting for you.”
“That would absolutely defeat the purpose.”
“Your purpose, maybe. My purpose is to watch your sexy ass while you run ahead of me.”
Shaking my head, I said, “You and your dirty one-track mind.”
Ivy’s mood had brightened considerably since her jittery appearance in the kitchen this morning, and I planned to bask in it. Definitely not the time to mention this latest assault on my character. I didn’t like keeping things from her, but sometimes it was for the greater good, and the greater good was maintaining a light attitude for our last full day together.
Once she joined me in England, I could dump all the bad news on her.
***
Despite a bit of fan frenzy at the restaurant for lunch, the day lived up to my expectations. We laughed, joked, kissed, had a table with a view, kissed some more, held hands on the beach. A few times, I’d caught Ivy with a sad or pensive expression, but I put it down to my departure tomorrow.
I'd miss her, but we had an understanding that she’d join me in about a month. She had to finish her book, or close enough, and I had music to record...and another social media fire to extinguish. We’d be busy, and the time would fly. Once we nailed down the date for our reunion, she’d feel better—we both would. Maybe she doubted my commitment to her and this relationship, even though I’d spent the day talking about my home, my family, and my life in England. Maybe she feared I’d leave her like everyone else had left her. I had a lot to prove to her.
We returned to a quiet house. Apparently, Chloe had hightailed it down to San Diego to try to work things out with her boyfriend. I didn’t miss that kind of drama, and Ivy didn’t play the diva or high-maintenance queen.
I went straight to my laptop on the coffee table and flipped it open. Hugh had promised to review the latest song and send over his suggestions. I called over my shoulder, “Are you sure I can’t take you out someplace nice tonight for our last dinner?”
“I’m sure. I relented on your suggestion for lunch today and look what happened.”
“Ah, that wasn’t so bad.”
I sank on the sofa in front of my computer and opened Hugh’s email while Ivy puttered around the kitchen.
She brought me a glass of sparkling water over ice and sat across from me on the chair. “Do you need to get your boarding pass?”
“My assistant, Penny, already did that for me.”
I held up my phone. “It came through a few hours ago when we were at the beach.”
“Must be nice.”
I shot her a glance, but she was staring into her drink. Time to nail things down and reassure her. “Penny’s been with me for a while. I went to her wedding and the baptism for her first child. She’s the best. Always stood by me. I’m going to send her your contact details, if that’s okay. She can book your ticket.”
Ivy answered me with a tinkling of ice in her glass.
I continued. “I’m thinking a month. Does that work for you? If you’re not done with your book by then, you can finish it at my place. I have a room downstairs that would be perfect for you. It has French doors that open onto the back garden. You can just tell me what furniture you want in there. It’s a bit heavy and dark now, but you can decorate the room however you want.”
I licked my dry lips. She still hadn’t raised her eyes from the fascinating water swirling in her glass. “Or you could pick a different room, whatever you want.”
The words, which had taken on a desperate quality, hung in the air between us, and a bead of sweat rolled down the middle of my back. “Ivy?”
She finally looked up, pinning me with her green gaze, and a fist formed in my gut. The warning bell that had dinged in my brain yesterday when she’d told me she wanted to go back to the cocoon of the Ferris wheel had turned into a piercing siren, slicing through my head. I could see it all in her face.
“I’m not going to England, Ian.”