Chapter Four
Maddox
My truck's thermometer reads ninety-two degrees, but Ivy hasn't complained once during the half-hour drive to River Pines Resort. She's just hummed along to the radio, occasionally pointing out interesting landmarks or telling stories about guests at Mountain Laurel. It feels too natural. Like we've done this a hundred times before.
"Is that it?" She leans forward as we round a bend, and I try not to notice how the movement brings her closer to me. The resort buildings rise before us, all timber and stone against the backdrop of pine-covered mountains.
"Yep. Sarah's going all out."
"It's beautiful." There's genuine wonder in her voice. "Reminds me a little of home."
Home. The word hits differently when she says it, making me think of summer evenings at Mountain Laurel Lodge, of Ivy's laugh echoing across the lawn, of everything I've spent years pretending not to want.
I pull into a spot near the entrance, killing the engine. "Ready for this?"
"Are you?" She turns those hazel eyes on me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. "Your mom's been texting me all morning."
"She what?"
"Maddox!" My mother's voice carries across the parking lot before Ivy can elaborate. "And Ivy! Oh, you're here!"
I barely have time to get out of the truck before Mom engulfs Ivy in a hug. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you properly. I mean, I've known you forever of course, but this is different!"
"Mom—" I start, but Ivy just laughs and hugs her back.
"It's great to see you too, Mrs. Archer."
"Oh, please. Call me Ellen. We're practically family now that you and Maddox are?—"
"Finally here!" My grandmother's voice cuts through Mom's enthusiasm as she makes her way down the lodge steps. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."
"Hi, Gram." I move to help her down the last step, but she waves me off, making a beeline for Ivy instead.
"Look at you," she says, taking Ivy's hands in hers. "All grown up and beautiful. I always told Maddox he should?—"
"Gram." My voice comes out strangled. "Maybe we should get checked in?"
"Of course, of course." But she grabs my arm as Ivy and Mom head inside, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don't screw this up, boy."
"It's not—we're just?—"
"I've watched you moon over that girl since you were sixteen." Her eyes, sharp as ever at eighty-two, pin me in place. "Don't think I haven't noticed."
"I never?—"
"You did. You do." She pats my cheek. "And now she's here, looking at you like you hang the moon, and you're still trying to convince yourself it doesn't mean anything."
Inside, Ivy's charm is already working its magic. She's listening intently to Mom's story about Sarah's dress disaster, asking all the right questions about the ceremony, complimenting the flower arrangements. She belongs here, in this scene, in this moment, in my family.
The thought terrifies me.
"Your young lady is delightful," Gram says as we watch Mom drag Ivy off to meet more relatives. "Exactly the kind of woman you should marry."
I choke on air. "Marry?"
"Smart, capable, knows how to handle your stubborn self." She counts off on her fingers. "Plus, she's got good genes. Have you seen how well Evie Callahan has aged?"
"Gram, we just started dating." The lie feels heavy on my tongue.
"But you've loved her for years." She says it so matter-of-factly that my chest aches. "Anyone with eyes can see that."
Before I can protest, Ivy appears at my side. "Your mom wants us to see our rooms." Her hand slips into mine like it belongs there. "Everything okay?"
"Fine." My voice cracks.
"You've got a good one there," Gram tells me, but her eyes are on Ivy. "Hold onto her."
For one ridiculous second, I let myself imagine it. Ivy in white, walking down an aisle. Ivy in my kitchen, stealing sips of my coffee. Ivy in my life, not just for a weekend, but forever.
"Coming?" Ivy tugs at my hand, and reality crashes back.
This isn't real. No matter how well she fits into my family, no matter how right her hand feels in mine, no matter how many knowing looks Gram gives me. This is just pretend.
But as I follow Ivy up the stairs, watching her charm yet another relative with that easy smile, I'm starting to think my heart didn't get the memo.
The rehearsal dinner is winding down, but no one seems eager to leave. Someone's hooked up a playlist to the lodge's sound system, and couples are naturally gravitating to the makeshift dance floor as a slow song starts to play.
Ivy catches my eye from across the room, and I know she's thinking about our practice session at Mountain Laurel Lodge. How she insisted we needed to look natural on the dance floor. How we spent an hour in the empty great room after closing, her patient instructions mixing with laughter every time I stepped on her feet.
She makes her way over to me now, that same amused look in her eyes. "Want to see if our practice paid off?"
I should say no. Should make some excuse about helping clean up. Should do anything except hold out my hand and let her lead me to the dance floor.
But when she steps into my arms, it's as natural as breathing. Her hand finds mine while the other rests on my shoulder, exactly like we practiced. Except this time there's no stumbling, no counting steps under our breath, no gentle teasing about my lack of rhythm.
"Look at that," she murmurs. "You learned something."
"I had a good teacher."
She looks up at me through her lashes. "You mean you actually listened to someone for once?"
"Don't tell anyone." My hand tightens slightly on her waist. "I have a reputation to maintain."
Her laugh is soft, private. "Your secret's safe with me."
She fits in my arms even better than she did during practice, when we were both too aware of getting the steps right. Here, with the lights dim and the music soft, we just move together like we've been doing this for years.
"Your grandmother keeps smiling at us," Ivy whispers, her breath warm against my neck.
"She's not the only one." I turn us slightly so she can see my mother not-so-subtly taking pictures with her phone. "I think Mom's already planning the wedding."
The words slip out before I can stop them, but Ivy just laughs. "Well, we did practice in front of the lodge's ceremony arch. Maybe she saw us."
I remember that moment. Ivy insisted we needed to know how to dance in closer quarters, how she felt in my arms under the twinkle lights Declan forgot to take down. How for a moment, I let myself imagine...
"Maddox?" Her thumb traces small circles on my shoulder, bringing me back to now. "You disappeared on me for a second there."
"I was thinking."
"About how much better you are at this than when you stepped on my toes five times in a row?"
"That was not—" I catch her teasing smile. "Four times. Maximum."
She moves closer, probably because my aunt walks by with her camera out, but my breath catches anyway. The familiar scent of her shampoo mingles with something floral. Maybe her perfume. It's distracting in a way that makes me want to bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.
"Your cousin Amy invited us hiking tomorrow morning," she says, seemingly unaware of my internal struggle. "Before all the wedding prep starts."
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "Unless you don't want me to come?"
"No, I—" I swallow hard. "That would be... nice."
Her smile could light up the whole room. "Good. Because I already told her about the hidden waterfall trail you showed me that summer."
"Showed you?" I raise an eyebrow. "You mean the one you followed me to because you were convinced I was sneaking off to meet someone?" I bite back a smile thinking back to my high school days.
"I didn’t want you getting into trouble."
"You got poison ivy."
"Minor detail." Her nose scrunches up at the memory. "Besides, you're the one who carried me back to the lodge."
"Couldn't exactly leave you there."
"My hero." The words are teasing, but something in her expression makes my chest tight.
The song changes to something faster, but neither of us moves to break apart. If anything, Ivy settles more comfortably against me, like she's forgotten we're just practicing. Like this is real.
And that's the problem.
Because I want to keep her here. Want to dance with her all night, want to take her hiking in the morning, want to show her every hidden trail and secret waterfall. Want her, not just for this weekend, but for all the weekends after.
"We should probably take a break," she says softly. "Before your mom's phone runs out of storage."
"Right." I force myself to let go of her hand, to step back, to remember that none of this is real. "Thanks for the dance."
"Anytime." That teasing smile plays at her lips again. "I mean, after all that practice, it would be a shame to waste it."
I watch her walk away, already missing her warmth. Cousin Matt catches my eye from across the room and raises his glass in a silent toast, clearly thinking he's watching some epic love story unfold.
He's not entirely wrong.