Chapter Two
ASHER
“ Are you going to that party at Tilt?”
I squint, staring at the cars that look like toys on the street down below. When I don’t hear an answer, I look back over my shoulder, my brother completely oblivious to my question.
“Guess not,” I mutter to myself, turning my attention back to the view from the window.
My office overlooks the city, the snow-covered Chicago skyline stretching out like a picture-perfect postcard. The afternoon sun reflects off the glassy buildings, casting everything in a soft, wintry glow. Normally, I’d lose myself in the view, but today, my mind keeps wandering back to the message I got earlier.
Tessa Marlow, of all people. Her cherubic face pops into my head, all my memories of her still from high school. It’s been years since I saw her last, but apparently, she and lifelong friend Ivy Calloway are opening a bakery and looking for my advice.
It’s been a while since I thought about those days. Tessa was always sweet and friendly, the type of person who had a kind word for everyone, even a guy like me who didn’t always deserve it. I find myself wondering what she’s been up to since then, how life has treated her.
I glance back over at my brother, Zane, who’s pacing around my office with a stack of notes in his hand, looking like he’s about to wear a groove into the floor. I chuckle, memories of him trying to pretend he wasn’t checking Tessa out when she was round popping in my head. “Hey, guess who reached out to me?”
He barely looks up, focused on whatever calculations he’s running through in his head. “Who?”
“Tessa Marlow. She wants to catch up and talk about a new business she’s starting with her friend.” He stops in his tracks, his movements pausing at the mention of her. A name I’m sure he hasn’t heard for almost ten years—one that I know brings a rush of memories back to him, even if he’ll never admit it.
Zane snorts, finally looking my way. “Old high school buddy, huh? What’s she need—investment advice? Or just hoping to rub shoulders with the Mercers?”
I roll my eyes at his usual cynicism. “Maybe a little bit of both. But come on, we’ve been in their shoes. It wasn’t that long ago we were hustling to get this company off the ground. Plus, she and her friend have been running a side baking business for years. I looked into it—they’ve got potential based on their strong social media presence and the extensive reports she sent over. I just have to see if the numbers are there. I would love if you would go over them as well since you’re the numbers guy.”
He stops his pacing, leaning against my desk, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Her friend… Ivy, right? The quiet one?” he asks, completely ignoring my other comment.
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral even though the mention of her name sends a jolt through me. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”
Zane raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “No reason. Just curious.”
I shake my head, but my mind drifts back to Ivy anyway. Back in high school, she was different—edgy, smart, and focused on things far outside the football field social circle I ruled. While I was busy with practices, parties, and being crowned prom king, she was buried in books, lost in her own world. We barely interacted, but I always noticed her. She was the kind of girl you noticed, even if she never realized it.
She had this way of moving through the halls, head down, a look of determination on her face like she had more important things on her mind than high school drama. She didn’t care about fitting in or being liked, and maybe that’s what intrigued me. I admired that about her—maybe even envied it a little. She had this quiet, I don’t give a fuck about your opinion way about her. But back then, I was too caught up in my own image to do anything about it.
Zane watches me for a moment longer, his gaze too knowing for my liking. I clear my throat, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “Anyway, I told Tessa we could meet tomorrow afternoon.”
“Kind of fucked up to be thinking about a girl you went to high school with at your age.”
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes, his boisterous laugh echoing around us. “You’re fucked up, you know that? I was just remembering what she looked like; the only memory I have of her is from high school.”
“Still trying to get up the nerve to talk to her?”
“Why do you remember her name? You’re the older brother; you were barely even around when we were in high school,” I remind him, the only time we ever really crossed paths as students together in high school was the off chance we bumped into each other in the hallway when he bothered showing up, or the few times Mom made him give me a ride.
“We both know why I remember her—” He smirks and for a second, I think he’s going to say something about his not-so-secretive crush on Tessa. “Ivy was the one girl who scared you growing up.”
“I wasn’t scared of her,” I clarify, feeling a touch defensive. “She was best friends with Tessa, whom I thought had a crush on me, so I wasn’t about to fuck that up.”
It’s a lie. He knows it; I know it. The truth was, I was terrified of a girl like Ivy in high school. The smart ones who had their shit together always saw through my facade and, sadly, not much has changed.
At twenty-eight, I thought I’d have my personal life just as figured out as my professional life, but to date, that couldn’t be further from the truth. The last three dates I’ve had ended with zero promise. One ended with me dropping the woman off at a club to meet up with her friends and the other two… I let my dick do the thinking—one turning into a friends with benefits thing and the other telling me she thinks she’s in love with me after two hookups which left me having to break her heart that the feeling wasn’t mutual.
His movements pause, his gaze still focused on the paper in his hand for a few more seconds before he chuckles. “Whatever you say, little brother.” Then he just shrugs and heads back to his office, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and that uncomfortable flicker of anticipation I can’t quite shake.
“Michelle, can you send me the report that shows how we did Q4 last year?”
I’m in the middle of a conference call, going through the latest financial reports, when I hear a knock on my office door.
“Of course,” Michelle replies. “I sent them over to Zane last week but I’ll forward them to you as well.”
I glance at my watch—time completely getting away from me.
“Your three o’clock is waiting,” Keri, my assistant, whispers, tapping her wrist. It’s not often she has to walk in and physically remind me to hang up the phone but with year-end right around the corner, business never sleeps.
“Sorry, everyone, I have to drop. Thanks again for your time.” I hang up, standing from my chair and buttoning my suit jacket as Keri steps aside, widening the door.
“He’s ready for you now.” She smiles toward the person behind the door, then steps aside, ushering for her to step in my office.
“Good afternoon,” I say preemptively, “I’m sorry I ma?—”
I expect to see Tessa, with her bright smile and easy demeanor, but when the door swings open, it’s not her.
It’s Ivy.
For a second, I just stare. She’s changed—or grown up rather. She still has that alternative edge, but there’s a subtle confidence in her stance that wasn’t there before. My mind instantly flashes back to her in high school, her shoulders up to her ears, her eyes cast down as she practically scurried down the hall to her next class. She was shy, that was obvious, but there was always something so much more behind those eyes, some far-off look like she was already planning out her life five years ahead of the rest of us.
Her hair, once kept just beneath her chin, is long, dark, glossy, and straight, falling over one shoulder, and she’s dressed in a sleek dark-green coat that brings out the warmth in her hazel eyes. Those eyes, the ones that always seemed to see more than anyone gave her credit for, flick up to meet mine, and I’m caught off guard by the way my heart stumbles in my chest.
I clear my throat, pasting on my easygoing smile. “Ivy, hey. I-I—” I chuckle at myself stumbling over my words. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. It’s been a long time.” I extend my hand toward her. “Where’s Tessa?”
She hesitates, then steps farther into the room, and I catch the faintest hint of vanilla and cinnamon as she moves to clutch my hand with her own. Her skin is warm, her touch so gentle I look down to make sure she’s actually touching me.
“She had a last-minute meeting with our real estate agent, so I’m here instead.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing her neck. “I hope that’s okay.” Her voice sounds familiar; it’s definitely still Ivy’s somewhat monotoned cadence but there’s a maturity to it now, an almost whisper-like rasp to it.
“Of course. Sorry, I just meant that I was expecting to see her—I’m pleasantly surprised that it’s you.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicks up a notch when her fingers gently pull back from mine. “Have a seat, please. So, you two are starting a bakery?”
Ivy sits down, smoothing her hands over her coat, and I notice the way she bites her lip before answering, like she’s weighing every word. “Yes, technically. We’ve actually had this baking business for some time. So taking the next steps of getting a brick and mortar bakery, well, it’s been in the works for a while now.” She smiles hesitantly. “When Tessa mentioned speaking with you and your brother, we both thought it could be beneficial. So, thank you for taking the time.” Her fingers nervously tap against her leg. She is wearing black tights beneath the coat, her feet encased in Dr. Martens boots.
“Happy to.” I smile back at her. Her eyes shift slightly away from me, then bounce right back. There’s still a hint of that shy young girl from days past, but she squares her shoulders, clearing her throat like she’s fighting it. “How far are you along in the process?”
“Pretty far. We have a building we’d like to put an offer on and we’re in the final stages of the pre-approval process.” Her movements are rigid, her answers sounding programmed.
“Hmm, pretty far is right, then.” Her fingers stay interlaced in her lap and I can’t help but wonder if she’s excited at all. “Tell me more about it, Ivy.” I settle my eyes on her, hoping my openness will allow her to feel more at ease. I lean back in my chair, my posture relaxing as my tone becomes more engaging. I want to know everything about her, what she’s been up to the last decade, if she’s happy, what she’s doing after this. But I don’t ask those questions. Instead, I keep it professional. “What made you want to open a bakery? What’s your specialty? Is baking your passion?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders relax a touch, a smile starting to spread across her lips. “Actually, it’s been a dream of ours since college. We—er, I started baking as a hobby, a way to channel some energy into something other than school and it just grew from there.”
“I can’t imagine needing other things to keep me busy in college,” I share. “I was lucky to get the bare minimum done between parties.” I laugh at the confession, then suddenly feel immature. Ivy doesn’t strike me as the type who ever partied. I think I saw her at one, maybe two in high school, and that was only because of Tessa, I’m sure.
“I was usually in the science lab.” She blushes. “Chemistry major.”
“Chemistry?” I whistle. “I knew you were smart but damn.”
“It was fun.” She shrugs with a small laugh. “Plus, it translated to baking very well.”
“So, you’re the baker?” I ask, changing the subject. She nods enthusiastically, her natural demeanor peeking through more and more. “What are you going to call it—the bakery?”
“Sugar this is Ivy Calloway—a woman who wants my input, not my dick…