Chapter 15
15
Ivy
December 23
Kauai, Hawaii
Oliver’s arm brushes against Ivy’s as they load their tents into the back of his Jeep—but, as she has grown used to doing, she forces herself to ignore the shower of sparks his touch sets off on her skin, to push away how his proximity makes her feel. Not think about how it felt to kiss him in the waterfall pool. Definitely not think about doing that again.
Despite the tension Ivy feels, they listen to music and chat easily during the drive and are back at Larry’s villa by noon. As they’re unpacking their camping gear from the back of the Jeep, Larry comes outside with a phone message: a colleague of Oliver’s from the hotel has a sick kid at home and is looking for someone to cover her shift. Oliver looks concerned as he heads inside to call her back.
Moments later, he comes out again and hastily helps Ivy unload the rest of the gear.
“Paula’s a single mom,” he says to Ivy. “I try to help her out as much as I can, and today, she’s in a real spot. So, I told her I’d take her shift, meaning I need to shower and get to the hotel. But I had a great time, Ivy.” A smile steals over his face and she wonders if he’s remembering the kiss. “Didn’t get the damn shot, but it was still a lot of fun.” He looks at her a moment longer, and then he’s gone, back inside the villa. Ivy stands still, unable to think of anything else now but the way his lips felt on hers. So much for getting it out of her system. If anything, the kiss has just made things worse.
But Ivy has always been disciplined. Now that Oliver will be at work, she’ll have time to get her head back where it should be: firmly focused on her art. She can do this.
Later that afternoon, Ivy walks slowly back up the beach, her hands stained with pastels and her heart happy after a catch-up chat with Holly and finding a cove filled with driftwood that provided the perfect inspiration for a series of pastel drawings. As she slows her pace to watch the sun sinking low over the water, she hears someone calling her name.
Larry is standing on the bottom terrace of the villa, waving at her. Ivy speeds up toward her.
“Great, you’re back! I started making dinner for myself, but I always make too much—and tonight, cactus enchilada for one has turned into cactus enchilada for about…maybe ten. Would you like to join me?”
“I’d love to,” Ivy says, and goes to put her art supplies upstairs and change.
When she comes down, she can hear Larry in the kitchen, humming a song as she cooks. Ivy taps lightly on the side of the screen door, then walks in. The apartment is similar to the one upstairs, but bigger. There are more of Oliver’s photographs on one wall, and Ivy walks toward them, examining them one by one. “He’s so good,” she says.
“He’s amazing at what he does.” Larry pops the cork on a bottle of white wine and also takes a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge as she accepts Ivy’s offer of helping to set the table on the terrace.
Back inside, as Larry takes the enchilada dish out of the oven, Ivy is drawn again to the wall of Oliver’s photographs. “Why doesn’t he do this full-time?” she asks Larry.
Larry looks up from chopping cilantro. “I think he’s got a pretty good thing going, with the way he’s set up his life. I think he likes not putting too much pressure on his art.” Larry sprinkles the fresh cilantro over the enchilada dish, then picks it up. “Come on outside,” she says.
On the terrace, Larry serves Ivy a heaping plate, then pours them both glasses of wine.
Ivy sips the Sancerre and stares out to sea.
“You okay?”
“I guess I’m just wondering what it might be like to do this all the time—live in a place like this. Travel around.”
“Can’t you do that?”
Ivy shakes her head.
“Why not? Is there a reason you have to stay in New York City?”
“Well, my best friend is there. And my job. That’s kind of a big one, work.”
“What is your job?”
“I do brand consulting at a big advertising firm.”
“Do you love it?”
“Definitely not love. I like it, though. It pays the bills.”
Larry tilts her head. “You’d have a lot fewer bills to pay if you didn’t live in New York City.”
“True, but I just”—Ivy shakes her head—“always imagined my life a little more grounded.” She explains how her parents were always happy, but her childhood was unsettled. “I never knew where we were going next, or if I should get comfortable anywhere. I was always switching schools, or getting homeschooled. I guess I’ve just always craved stability.”
Larry is pensive. “Oliver always has, too, you know. His childhood wasn’t exactly what you would call stable.”
“Yeah, he told me.”
“But I also guess what his mom’s life taught him is how dangerous it is to give up on your dreams. You only get one life, and you never know how long it’s going to be.”
Ivy sighs, then takes a bite of the enchilada and is momentarily distracted. “Larry, this is amazing.”
“Thank you. My abuela’s recipe, from back home in Mexico City. The secret is using nopales . Prickly pear cactus. They aren’t native here, but my mom brought me a plant the last time she visited, and I use that. They’re bastards to prep”—she holds up her left hand and shows off a bandage on one finger—“but worth it for the flavor and texture.”
Ivy takes another bite and ruminates as she chews. “The ‘you only live once’ thing—I guess that’s why I make time, every year, for what I love to do.”
“Your art.”
Ivy nods.
“But you don’t feel you could make time for it more?”
“I just don’t see a future in it.”
“You mean, financially?”
“I guess so. Like I said, I’ve always craved stability, and art…it’s never stable.”
“Has meeting Ollie made you feel differently about that?”
Ivy freezes with her wineglass halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean?”
Larry holds Ivy’s gaze. “You know what I mean. The chemistry between you two is palpable. My hair gets frizzy just being near you. I sent you off camping together, but you clearly haven’t gotten it on yet. What’s wrong with you?”
Ivy can’t help but laugh. “Trust me, I want to, okay? But I always promise myself that these art trips are for art only. It’s important to me. And…” She hesitates. Should she be talking to Larry this way about Oliver, her best friend? But Ivy feels a sense of trust, so she continues.
“When I first met him at the hotel bar, I thought he was just some fun-for-now guy. But he’s not—he’s talented, and serious about his work. Plus, he’s kind, and smart, and…I like him a lot.”
“Why do I feel like you think this is a problem, that Ollie is a better guy than you thought he was? You two, you’re like”—she claps her hands together, then clasps them as if in prayer—“ kismet. ”
The fact that Oliver’s best friend is saying this fills Ivy with a warm buzz, but she still tries to fight it. “I don’t know about that…”
“I sent you out into the wilderness together, the chemistry zinging between you like you’re a pair of science lab beakers, and you… what ? Just kiss?”
“How did you know?”
Larry laughs. “He told me, of course. We tell each other everything. Hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course. I tell my best friend everything, too—although I haven’t told her about Oliver yet.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Ivy tries to explain it. “I have no problem getting physical with the men I meet. I think sex can just be for fun—and I’ve had a lot of fun over the years, always on my own terms. But with Oliver…” She trails off, thoughtful again.
“It wouldn’t just be for fun, necessarily.”
“Right.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“Well, because I only have a week or so left with him. Plus, my art. I wanted to focus on other things. All this—” She waves her hand in a circle, trying to encompass the little table, the beach, the ocean, the sky. “It has an end point.”
“In my experience, life is what you make of it. You can do anything you want, Ivy. You’re in charge. You can have love, and sex, and art. You can have it all.” She lifts her glass. “And by the way, Ivy, I promise: Everything you just said is sacred, I will not repeat it to Ollie. You have my word. I’ll stop pushing my views onto you and let you enjoy the time you have here. More enchilada?”
“Yes, please .” She smiles. “I can see why he’s best friends with you, Larry. You’re kind of amazing.”
She winks as she serves Ivy more food. “I know,” she says lightly.
Larry’s phone bings , and she picks it up, reads the text, and smiles. “That’s Shira, telling me how excited she is to see me tomorrow.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“I’ve told her all about you. She’s keen to meet you, too. We’re going to have so much fun. On Christmas Eve, there’s a lū‘au down at the beach by the hotel. Everyone goes. You have to come, obviously. Amazing food, dancing, you’ll love it.”
Ivy thinks about being at a beach party with Oliver, and finds she can’t resist the idea. “That sounds like fun,” she says sincerely.
“It will be,” Larry says, her easy, animated chatter back after their more serious discussion moments before. “The four of us are going to have an amazing time, I promise. It’s going to be the best Christmas ever!”