Chapter 18
Ivy stood frozen beside the craft table as Ryder walked away with Ellie’s small hand tucked in his. The gym door swung closed behind them.
God, who am I fooling—pretending he doesn’t matter?
She pressed her fingertips hard against her eyelids until color flared behind them, as if she could smudge out the sight of him.
For the last few hours, surrounded by construction paper and finger paint, she’d felt lighter than she had in months. No financial deadlines pressing against her skull or contracts demanding her signature. No centuries-old estate hanging over her like a sword.
Just laughter, sticky glue, and enough glitter to blind a person.
Until Ryder looked at her like that and everything else stopped.
The fair thinned around her, laughter softening to echoes and footsteps across the gym floor. She started wiping loose glitter and paper scraps from the table, needing motion to calm her restless mind.
Every nerve had sparked like a frayed wire the moment she’d looked up to find him watching her with Ellie. His expression had been unguarded for only a second before it shuttered, the glimpse gone as quickly as it came. She shouldn’t have seen it at all. It had no business existing between them.
Tonight, she’d be sitting across from him again at Sarah’s dinner table, trying to make polite conversation while her pulse tore through her veins every time he looked at her.
She’d hoped Sarah’s invitation to family dinner had meant just Sarah and maybe her husband if she had one. Clearly, that had been wishful thinking.
Table cleared and craft materials shelved, she said her goodbyes and left the school gym.
Snow drifted in fat flakes as she crossed the parking lot, her breath hanging white in the deepening cold. She waved at some of the departing families, pulling her coat tighter and wishing that Ryder’s jacket was still wrapped around her.
It had been warm in a way nothing else was.
A thought pressed in before she could stop it. I want this one day. Family. Children. Ryder’s face rose with it, unshakable, no matter how fiercely she tried to shove it aside.
Wanting something just for herself was unfamiliar territory. And terrifying. The image crystallized with startling clarity—him teaching a child to tie their shoes, reading bedtime stories, the same protective intensity he showed Ellie extending to their—
Their children.
The words hung in her mind, terrifying in their specificity.
Not just any children.
Our children.
The image felt so real she could almost hear phantom laughter echoing through rooms that didn’t exist, in a life she had no right to imagine.
It hurt in the way flying might hurt, wings fighting to unfold in a body built for staying on the ground.
She was leaving in days. He lived here, rooted in this place, this community, while she had responsibilities tying her to England.
She fumbled with George’s rental car keys, the metal biting into her palm.
Stop wanting what you can’t have.
The drive back to the hotel passed in a blur of swirling snow and second-guessing. By the time she reached her room, her phone was already ringing on the bedside table as she tugged off her damp boots.
George’s name lit the screen.
What now?
He wouldn’t call unless something had shifted, and whatever it was wouldn’t be small.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the glass. For a foolish second, she wanted to ignore it, pretend nothing was about to unravel. But the damn device kept pulsing, insistent.
She answered.
“Ives. London’s called an emergency session. Offshore regs. We both have to be on this call.”
Of course. The type of meeting no one missed. The kind that would drag her back to the life she was trying not to drown in.
She closed her eyes, took a breath. “We have dinner with Sarah Meyer tonight, George.”
Icy panic spread through her chest. George was her buffer. Without him, she’d be exposed.
“I know. But you need to cancel, Ives.”
She glanced at her watch. Six pm. She didn’t want to let Ryder’s sister down at the last minute. Didn’t want to let his family down. They mattered. “It’s too late for that.”
“You could plead off—say you’re under the weather.”
“No, George. I’m not canceling.” She blew out a breath, one hand on her forehead. “You’re going to have to do this one on your own. We can discuss it tomorrow morning.”
She still hadn’t mentioned what Jack had given her. She’d looked at it briefly, but Jack had been right. They needed a geologist to make sense of it, and she didn’t want to worry George before she had real answers.
Silence. Then a sigh. “I do ask too much of you, don’t I?”
Her laugh was shaky. “I think I’m my own worst enemy. But you’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you think.”
“Okay then.” He cleared his throat. “I am the Duke of Lambourne after all.”
“I love you, George.”
His voice softened. “Love you too, sis. We’ll talk at breakfast.”
She ended the call with her hands still trembling. She could hide in the hotel, invent an excuse, but the thought of ducking out was far worse than the thought of going. Canceling would be easy. Too easy. Which left only one choice.
Face the Meyers alone.
An hour later, she stood in front of the hotel room’s full-length mirror, surrounded by every piece of clothing she’d brought to Alaska.
Sweaters, blouses, and dresses lay scattered across the bed, casualties of her indecision.
She hated how much she cared about what to wear, the way she imagined Ryder’s reaction as she tried on every item.
She finally settled on dark jeans that fit well and a silk blouse in dusty blue that brought out the color of her eyes.
Casual.
Respectful.
But the lie felt transparent.
What she really wanted was to be beautiful—for him, to see his eyes change when he looked at her. She pressed her palms to her thighs, smoothing nothing.
Enough, Ivy.
Leaving the hotel, snow continued to fall as she navigated George’s rental through Aurora Cove, her knuckles stinging from tension.
The unfamiliar left-hand drive added another layer of anxiety to her already frayed nerves.
She caught herself muttering reminders to stay on the right side of the road, as if her British instincts might betray her at the worst possible moment.
Finally, Sarah’s house glowed warmly against the darkening sky, golden light spilling from the windows. The driveway had been cleared, but snow was already beginning to accumulate again.
Ivy parked and killed the engine. Silence rushed in.
I can do this.
But her hands were locked white-knuckled around the steering wheel. She pried them open, one finger at a time.
The front door opened.
Ryder’s big body filled the doorway and blood crashed in her ears.
Had he been looking out for her?
Her breath tripped, forgetting itself entirely.
He lifted a hand in greeting and jogged down the steps to her car door, opening it and holding out his hand. His gaze swept the empty seat beside her, his frown deepening. “You came alone?”
The concern in his voice caught her off guard. “George had a call with London. He couldn’t make it.”
She climbed out of the car.
“Hold still.” He stepped closer, snow compacting noisily under his boots. His hand came up, hesitated, then traced along her hairline.
Don’t lean in. But she did anyway.
“Glitter,” he murmured, but his thumb didn’t move right away.
Heat flared through her. The smallest touch and her world canted.
“Look.” Tiny stubborn stars clung to the pad of his thumb. Softness flickered in his expression and was gone just as quickly. “Come in. You’ll catch your death out here.”
She accepted his hand and shut the car door behind her.
He kept hold of her hand. “Careful, the driveway is icing up fast.”
She nodded, grateful for his grip.
He’s just being considerate, right?
She followed him up snow-crusted steps. Inside the front door, the scent hit her—roast beef, thyme, red wine. Her stomach clenched in answer, sharp with hunger she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Here, let me.” His voice came from directly behind her, close enough that she was aware of the warmth radiating from his body. She started to shrug off her coat, but his hands were already there, lifting it from her shoulders.
His knuckles grazed the back of her neck as he slid her coat free, and her breath hitched. The touch was fleeting, likely unintentional, but her skin buzzed in its wake. She smoothed her hands down her blouse, buying herself a second to recover.
“Thanks.” She turned to face him as he hung her coat in the closet. The entryway seemed smaller with him in it, the air suddenly too thick.
“My mom and dad couldn’t make it. Helping their neighbor Jim. A burst pipe flooded his kitchen.” He shifted from foot to foot.
Did she unsettle him?
“Grace and Josie couldn’t make it either—Josie’s fighting a cold, but the rest of the gang is here.”
“Ello!” A tiny ballerina burst through the door straight ahead. Chubby arms locked around her legs. Ellie.
“But this one’s just fine. She’s been so excited about you coming.”
His gaze met hers, and words stuck in her throat.
“Up. Up.” Ellie bounced on her toes, tulle skirt flouncing.
Ivy glanced helplessly at Ryder.
His mouth curved, the smallest encouragement. “Go on. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Ivy nodded, her cheeks hot. She dropped to her knees. Ellie’s face was still purple and glittery. “How’s my favorite butterfly?”
Ellie’s rounded cheek bumped hers, her breath warm against Ivy’s skin. She smelled of apples and toasted sugar. “Up, Eye-vee.”
Ivy scooped her up, all taffeta and sparkles. Ellie’s weight settled against her hip, fitting perfectly against her. Small fingers clutched her blouse, and Ivy almost forgot how to breathe.
For a moment, the three of them stood motionless in the entryway.
Ryder’s gaze lingered between her and Ellie, as if the sight had winded him.
Ellie pointed an imperious finger toward the living room. “Unca Cale!”
Ivy sucked in a breath, the spell broken.
Ryder cleared his throat. “Guess she wants to introduce you to everyone this evening.”
His palm settled at the small of Ivy’s back, derailing her. She would have to concentrate just to walk in a straight line.
“Come on.” His voice was subdued. “Let’s go see everyone.”
And for the first time all day, she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to hold her.