Chapter Five
Ivy
I've been to enough weddings at Mountain Laurel to know how they usually go. The happy couple, the toasts, the dancing, it all follows a familiar pattern. But nothing about tonight feels normal, because nothing about the way Maddox keeps looking at me feels like pretend.
The reception is in full swing, the lodge's grand ballroom transformed by hundreds of twinkling lights. Sarah and Jack are lost in their own world on the dance floor, and the atmosphere is infectious. Everyone's laughing, dancing, celebrating.
Including us.
"Your mom's watching again," I murmur to Maddox as he pulls out my chair. The gesture is so natural, like he's been doing it all his life.
"Mom's always watching." His hand brushes the small of my back as he takes his seat beside me. "But Gram's the one you need to worry about. She’s convinced we are perfect for each other."
The word sends a flutter through my stomach that I desperately try to ignore. "Well, we are putting on quite a show."
"Are we?" His voice is low, meant just for me. "Because sometimes I forget we're pretending."
Before I can process that, his cousin Amy appears with champagne. "You two are adorable together. I can't believe you kept this secret for so long!"
"Well, you know Mad." I lean into him slightly, playing my part. "Always so private about everything."
"Not about you." Amy's grin widens. "He wouldn't shut up about that hiking trail you two explored last month. Going on and on about how you spotted that rare bird species..."
Maddox stiffens beside me. "I didn't?—"
"You did." She winks at me. "Nearly talked our ears off about how you knew exactly what it was because of all those nature guides you read."
Heat creeps up my neck. I do read those guides. I have since I was a teenager trying to impress my brother's best friend with random forest facts. I didn't think anyone noticed.
"Anyway," Amy continues, oblivious to my internal crisis, "save me a dance later, cuz!"
As she disappears into the crowd, Maddox clears his throat. "This is easier than I thought it would be."
"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, testing him. "That's funny because you look a little too comfortable with it."
Instead of his usual quick comeback, he just holds my gaze. Something intense burns in those blue eyes, something that makes my breath catch and my heart race. Then someone calls his name, and the moment breaks.
"I should..." He gestures vaguely toward his mother, who's waving him over.
"Go." I manage a smile. "I need some air anyway."
His hand squeezes mine briefly before he stands. The touch sends sparks up my arm, and I have to remind myself it's just for show. Just like the way he keeps his hand on my back when we walk. Just like how he leans in close when I talk, like everything I say matters. Just like how he remembers things about me that I didn't think anyone noticed.
The evening air hits my face as I slip out onto the back patio, but it does nothing to cool the heat in my cheeks. Music and laughter spill out from the ballroom, but out here, under a canopy of stars, I can finally breathe.
This is getting dangerous.
Because it's one thing to fake date someone. It's another to realize that maybe you weren't pretending at all. That maybe every laugh, every touch, every shared look held more truth than fiction.
"Get it together, Ivy," I mutter to myself, gripping the patio railing. "It's fake. A favor for an old friend."
But the memory of Maddox's eyes when he looked at me, of his hand in mine, of every single moment that felt too real to be fake...
The door opens behind me, and I know without turning who it is. Because of course he followed me. Of course he noticed I needed space. Of course he's here anyway, because that's what the real Maddox does—the one I've been trying so hard not to fall for.
"You okay?" His voice is soft, careful.
“I’m good. Just needed some air.” My heart beats a mile a minute.
"Avoiding the crowd?" His voice carries across the patio as he steps closer.
"Avoiding you," I tease back, but my voice wavers just enough to betray me.
Maddox moves to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that our shoulders brush. Below us, the valley stretches out in darkness, dotted with the twinkling lights of scattered mountain homes. The music from inside feels distant now, muted by the weight of everything unsaid between us.
"Some party," he says finally.
"Mmm." I trace a pattern in the wood grain of the railing. "Your mom seems happy."
"She's already asked if we're thinking about Mountain Laurel for our wedding."
My laugh comes out shakier than intended. "Of course she has."
Silence falls again, but it's charged now, electric with possibility. A cool breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and something distinctly mountain. Something like home.
"Can I ask you something?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
"Always."
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Why did you never consider me before?"
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he won't answer. "You're Liam's little sister."
"That's an excuse, not an answer." I turn to face him fully. "Try again."
"Ivy..."
"No, I want to know." Maybe it's the champagne, or the stars, or the way he's been looking at me all night, but I'm tired of dancing around this. "Because sometimes, the way you look at me..."
He meets my eyes then, really looks at me, and something in the air shifts. "How do I look at you?"
My breath catches as he takes a step closer. "Like maybe you've been pretending too. For a lot longer than this weekend."
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and my heart stutters. "What if I have been?"
Time stops when his lips meet mine. The world narrows to this moment. The warmth of his palm against my cheek. The faint trace of coffee and mint on his breath. The solid strength of him as he draws me closer. He kisses me like he's afraid I'll disappear, soft and searching, giving me every chance to pull away.
Instead, I lean into him, my fingers finding purchase in the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He makes a sound low in his throat, and suddenly the kiss changes. Deepens. His hand slides into my hair, careful not to disturb the curls I spent an hour perfecting, while the other splays across my lower back, drawing me flush against him. He tastes like wedding cake and possibility, and I can feel his heart racing where my palm rests against his chest.
The cool mountain air wraps around us, carrying the scent of pine and his cologne. It’s the achingly familiar mix of cedar and smoke that I've always associated with him. But there's nothing familiar about the way he's kissing me, like he's trying to memorize every moment. Like he's wanted this as long as I have. My fingers trail up to the nape of his neck, and he shivers, pulling me even closer until I'm not sure where I end and he begins.
When we finally break apart, he looks stunned, like he can't quite believe what just happened. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and I lean into the touch without thinking.
"Ivy," he breathes, and my name has never sounded like that before. "I?—"
"Don't." I press my fingers to his lips. "Don't say this isn't real. Don't tell me it was just for show, or that we got carried away, or?—"
He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm that makes me shiver. "I was going to say I've wanted to do that since you were seventeen and determined to prove you could outclimb me."
"You have not." But my heart is racing with possibility.
"You were wearing that ridiculous purple bandana." His other hand is still on my waist, thumb tracing circles that make it hard to think. "And you kept stopping to name every wildflower we passed, just to prove you'd been studying those guides."
Heat floods my cheeks. "You remembered that?"
"I remember everything about you." He rests his forehead against mine. "That's the problem."
"Why is it a problem?"
"Because this?" He gestures between us. "This isn't pretend anymore. Maybe it never was."
And there it is. The truth we've been dancing around all weekend. All our lives, maybe.
"So what do we do now?" I manage.
Instead of answering, he kisses me again. Slower this time, deeper, like he's trying to tell me something without words. My hands slide up his chest to loop around his neck, and he makes a sound that sends heat straight through me.
When we break apart this time, we're both breathing hard. Music from the reception drifts out, reminding me that we're not alone in the world, that there are consequences and complications and a thousand reasons why this is a terrible idea.