Chapter 20
IAN
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Ivy hadn’t changed a bit, still cheeky and sexy and a little bit needy. I didn’t mind that last part. We clicked because we had corresponding pieces that meshed seamlessly...and I didn’t mean sex, this time.
Ivy had come to me partially broken, a crack somewhere in her psyche. I saw it in her hazel eyes sometimes. In the way she clung to me. The way she tried to anticipate my needs and support me, as if I’d leave if she didn’t. That just wouldn’t happen. Outside of my family, I never felt so accepted and understood by someone, especially a partner.
I didn’t know exactly why she changed her mind about being with me. I was afraid to dig too deeply. That characterized a big chunk of my relationship with her. She pushed back every time I tried to delve into her past.
Her mum’s abandonment must’ve really done a number on her. Ivy hadn’t even told me how old she was when her mum left, but I had the impression she was young. And the woman had never reached out to Ivy since then. Never bothered to contact her own daughter. That had to leave scars.
Her father seemed a poor substitute—unstable, gambler, probably a drinker. I yanked open the fridge door, almost pulling it off its hinges. I didn’t want to be that kind of father to Thea. Ivy could barely keep the disgust from her voice when she talked about her dad.
As I grabbed the steaks out of the fridge and tossed them onto the counter, my phone rang. I checked the display before answering. “Hiya, Jack.”
“Ivy get there okay?”
“She’s upstairs napping. I’m going to cook dinner, and we’re just gonna relax.”
“Good, good.”
The oven beeped for the pre-heat, and I put my phone on Speaker while I put the potatoes on the rack inside. “You sure seem interested in Ivy all of a sudden, when you were so suspicious about her before.”
Jack cleared his throat. “I just realized that this might be the real thing. C’mon, mate. You do tend to jump into relationships feet first, only to get burned later. Things moved fast with Ivy, like they usually do with you. I thought it was the same old, same old. But I can see it’s different with her. She seems to be a good influence on you.”
I slammed the oven door. “It’s mutual. I ain’t the only one benefitting from our relationship. She needs me, too. That’s why it works.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
Jack paused, which meant he was ready to change the subject. “I...uh...there’s something brewing about you out there, I mean, outside of your new record, which is getting phenomenal buzz.”
“You mean rumors?”
The idea of new gossip swirling around me didn’t have the same impact on my peace of mind as it usually did. With Ivy here, by my side, the online barbs couldn’t pierce my armor. “Not interested. I haven’t been on my socials in months. Whatever you’re doing with official posts about my music seems to be working, so keep at it.”
“That part is going great. You know about some fish website or something like that?”
“Fish? Like fishing? What are you on about?”
“Nothing. Never mind. I’ll take care of it. Has Jessica tried to contact you? Made any more threats?”
I plopped the two steaks onto a cutting board. “I have her blocked every way to Sunday, so no. Is this rumor coming from her?”
“Probably. Like I said, I’ll handle it. You’re taking a few days off from recording?”
“Just till Ivy gets settled here. Ronnie is doing some re-mixing right now with a couple of the songs, so it’s a good time to break. I’ve never completed an album this fast. Reminds me of the days with the boys when we done this shit on the road between concerts.”
“Haven’t seen you this passionate about your music since then, either. So, it’s all good, mate. Vivant is thrilled.”
“Well, if the record company is thrilled, I guess that’s all that matters.”
I jabbed a fork into one of the steaks to flip it over to season the other side, pretending it was everyone at Vivant Records.
“They do pay the bills. I’ll let you go. Say hello and welcome to Ivy for me.”
Jack had been expressing doubts about Ivy just last month when I told him she’d broken things off with me. Seemed chuffed at the time. Now he was all Team Ivy. Better for my manager and my girlfriend to get along, anyway.
Scruffy’s nails tapped on the tile floor, as he trotted into the kitchen, nose in the air. “This ain’t for you, Scruffy. Maybe later.”
A piercing squeal had both me and Scruffy jumping.
Ivy, another one of my T-shirts floating around her body, clapped her hands together. “Oh my, God. Is this Un-ironically Scruffy?”
“The same.”
I nudged the dog with my toe. “Go say hi, Scruffy.”
I didn’t have to tell him twice.
As Ivy crouched down and snapped her fingers, his little paws scrabbled against the floor in his haste to reach her. He tried to nuzzle her between the legs.
I know exactly how you feel, mate.
Unfazed, Ivy picked him up and put him in her lap, scratching behind his ear as he looked at her adoringly.
“He’s so cute and friendly.”
She sniffed. Either she had an allergy to Scruffy, or she was remembering her own dog.
“Oh, I see how it is.”
I raised a fork in the air. “I’m here, too. I’m cute and friendly.”
She continued her baby talk with Scruffy. “Look at you. Such a cutie-patootie. Little loverboy. You’re a good boy. Who’s a good boy?”
“Uh, I’m a good boy, too.”
I thrust out my lower lip.
She finally looked up from cuddling the dog. “Oh, I know. You’re a very good boy.”
She chucked Scruffy under the chin and then hopped up on the counter next to the raw steak and crossed her legs, the T-shirt riding up her bare thigh.
As if I could resist her. I dropped the pepper and moved in front of her. I parted her legs and slid between them. “Did you have a good nap?”
She entwined her arms around my neck and touched her nose to mine. “Quite nice, thank you.”
“Is this a thing, now?”
I plucked the material of my T-shirt away from her body. “You’re going to steal all my T-shirts?”
I sniffed the neckline. “All my dirty T-shirts. This from a woman who had to shower after a plane ride where she literally just sat in a seat for ten hours.”
“I told you. I like the dirty ones because they smell like you.”
She grabbed a handful of the shirt, brought it to her nose, and inhaled.
“I’m right here. You can smell me anytime you like.”
When she’d pulled up the T-shirt, the hem of it rode up over her hips, exposing her bare...everything. My hands burrowed beneath the material and encircled her small waist. “You saunter in here, wearing my dirty T-shirt and no knickers. Does this mean we’re starting in this room?”
“Starting? We already christened the bedroom.”
She jumped off the counter and tugged down the shirt. “And not in front of Scruffy.”
***
I was excited to give Ivy a tour of the house and grounds and to show her around the village. She loved the office I set up for her on the ground floor with the French doors that opened onto the garden. The village charmed her, and she swooned at every old, decrepit building, insisting that we have lunch one day down the pub, minus the alcohol.
I still hadn’t given her the bad news about that, but I was working up to it.
She’d befriended the pub owner, the flower seller, and the rector at the parish church, who talked her ear off about the history of the village and the church and the graveyard. She officially knew more people here than I did.
Just like in LA, we lived in our own little bubble with me playing tour guide, this time. I even took her to Milton’s cottage, which was closed at this time of year, but I was able to arrange a private tour for her of the house and gardens. We cooked at home, went out for a few meals, watched movies in the home theater, played with Scruffy in the yard, and shagged every night.
After a few days of this idyll, we had to move into the real world, and the prospect had scared the shit out of me. We’d never functioned as a couple with work and responsibilities. Would it change anything between us?
As I went back to work in the London studio, I left her at the house alone, and she finished unpacking, set up her office, and puttered around the village, doing God knows what. She was also able to work on her book and finished it her first month here. That fact put me at ease. We seemed to fall into a comfortable pattern, and I treated recording like a nine-to-five job, making it back home for dinner every night.
As I was making good progress on the album, I decided to ask her to join me at the studio one day.
Her eyes sparkled at the invitation. “I’d love to go. Will you be able to sing a song for me? Aren’t you done recording the vocals for all the songs?”
“I am, but I can record another version of ‘My Duchess.’ That’s the song I wrote about the painting at the Getty. That’s the first ballad I’m going to release as a single from the album, unless we go with ‘Lost and Found.’”
I raised my hand and ticked off my fingers. “‘Muse’ is going to be the first single, followed by ‘Van at the Greek,’ both mid-tempo, and then ‘My Duchess.’ Like I said, unless the record company lets me go with ‘Lost and Found.’”
She tilted her head as she scooped some mashed avocado onto a piece of toast. “I haven’t heard ‘Lost and Found.’ That’s the one you wrote right when you came back to England, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t the record company want you to release that as a single?”
“I actually started writing it on the flight home from LA.”
Right after she dumped me. I pulled at my beard. “The lyrics are really personal. I mean I think all my lyrics this time around are personal but ‘Lost and Found’...I don’t know. I get into some things that my label would rather not have me put out there.”
“I hope you can do what you want. I can’t wait to hear them all put together. It’s kind of like having a baby with you and watching it grow.”
She waved her hands in front of her pink cheeks. “I mean, not with you and not that I’d know.”
Was that a Freudian slip? Although our connection had deep roots, Ivy always wielded a shield to keep me from getting too close. She’d kept her feelings about kids to herself. She hadn’t met Thea, yet. My daughter had been at Jasper’s house in Italy with Shana and Jasper, and I didn’t want to rush anything, yet. I did want to introduce Ivy to my family up north, and they were anxious to meet her, but she’d hedged around the idea without committing to it. The notion seemed to terrify her for some reason, as if my family wouldn’t like her.
I sat down across from her, delivering a cup of tea. “I imagine it’s like writing a book. It starts with one idea or one character, and then you have a finished product that you share with other people.”
“I guess, but this time I’m on the outside of the creative process looking in. I know the songs from their infancy, from a few words and phrases and hummed melodies. I’m excited to hear the end result. And I haven’t been to the city, yet.”
“We can spend the night. Sharon will look after Scruffy. Would you rather sightsee than sit in the studio all day?”
Ivy had some kind of innate drive to explore everything, like if she didn’t know the history of a place she couldn’t sit back and fully enjoy it. I was just waiting for her request to check out every display in the British Museum.
“Oh, no. I’d much rather see...and listen to how you work, if I’m not going to be a distraction.”
“Not at all, but you might be bored.”
“I don’t think so.”
She crunched into her toast. “I don’t know anything about the process, so it’ll be fun to learn.”
I suddenly had a frightening vision of Ivy questioning Ronnie, the producer, and Hamza, the sound engineer, about the whole procedure. I put a finger to my lips. “As long as you’re very, very quiet.”
“Are there going to be any of the musicians there, or are they all done with their parts?”
“There might be a few there if Ronnie needs them to re-record anything. Dennis Foster might be by to do some guitar bits.”
Another scary thought slammed me in the chest. If Denny showed up today and started talking, I could be in a world of hurt. I had to get ahead of this.
“Ivy...”
She dropped her toast. “I know. If I’m going, I’d better get out of your T-shirt and into the shower. Won’t be long, baby.”
Before I could stop her, and let’s face it, I didn’t try all that hard, she’d pushed back her chair, kissed me on the ear, and dashed upstairs, with Scruffy at her heels. That mutt was obsessed with her. I knew the feeling.
I’d lost my appetite, so I cleaned up the kitchen and followed Ivy upstairs on lead feet. She was singing in the shower, not one of my songs, so I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Scruffy into my lap. This would go better if I had the cute dog with me.
She burst into the room, tucking a towel around her body. As she glanced up, she yelped and dropped the towel. I couldn’t do this with her naked.
“You scared me.”
She grabbed the towel, replacing it around her body, as if I hadn’t seen and worshipped every inch of it, already. “Are you trying to rush me? I’ll be just a few minutes. I’ll put on my makeup in the car. Are you driving us in one of your fast machines, or is Jovan taking us?”
“Jovan is taking us. I thought we could spend the night at my flat there, maybe go out to dinner, or do whatever you want once I’m done.”
No shame in trying to butter her up before I dropped the bomb.
“Wait, wait.”
She tugged the towel tighter. “Flat? You have a flat in London?”
“I thought I told you about that. It’s on the South Bank, just a small place in a building, an apartment. I keep it if I’m working late or there’s some event that runs late in the city.”
“You never told me that.”
She turned toward the dresser and pulled open the top drawer that contained her knickers.
She acted like it mattered. If she thought I’d kept that bit of information a secret for some reason, I’d better come clean right now about that other secret. “Uh, there are a couple of things I haven’t told you, Ivy.”
She froze, and her back stiffened. “That sounds ominous.”
She spun around, clutching a pair of silky knickers to her chest and keeping the towel wound around her body.
“It’s...”
I scooted Scruffy from the bed and patted the mattress beside him “...sit here.”
“I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be scared. It’s not great news, but it shouldn’t change anything between us. At least, I hope it won’t.”
She practically dragged her feet across the rug to the bed and sat next to me, leaving about six inches between us. Her knee bounced. “Wh-what is it? Did you discover something?”
“What? No.”
I shook my head and rubbed my knuckles against my beard. “I’m no longer six months sober.”