Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
The only place in Clovelly that had bagels on the menu was a fifteen-minute walk from her place, so Ivy crept out of bed the next morning and slipped on a pair of shorts, tucking Justin’s T-shirt from yesterday into the waistband as she slid her feet into a pair of thongs.
As she walked along the quiet tree-lined streets towards the main drag, rainbow lorikeets squawking overhead, she scrolled through her email, catching up on everything she’d missed after she and Justin had come home from the performance and fallen into bed. Several times.
Amid the notifications about new donations and the PR job openings she knew she’d never apply for, there was an email from the mayor of Hillstone.
My deepest thanks for your efforts to support the town and its residents in this challenging moment, Mayor Holmes had written.
The mayor hadn’t been at the Opera House yesterday, because she’d said it was more important to be on the ground to work with emergency services and be available to residents.
But, the email said, she’d seen a video of Justin’s speech and had heard from Miss Mary that the kids had had a great time. Now, she had a request for Justin.
Would he be willing to come to Hillstone to present the cheque in person?
Ivy thought she knew the answer, but she was ready to make the case that Justin should go.
She could reach out to the same journalists who had covered the fundraiser and secure another round of coverage, this time highlighting how much money they’d raised.
With any luck, images of Justin handing over a giant cheque to Miss Mary and the mayor would prompt yet more people and corporations to donate.
With any luck, there’d be enough money for Justin’s former teacher to offer scholarships to kids whose parents couldn’t afford classes.
As her final act of PR, she could do worse than making sure rural kids could learn ballet—and completing the rehabilitation of Justin Winters’ reputation to boot.
Her phone buzzed with a text notification.
Em, 8:48am: Looks like yesterday was a success. How are you celebrating?
Before Ivy hit send on her reply, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, bracing herself.
Ivy, 8:48am: By preparing to quit my job.
Her phone rang almost immediately.
“Fucking finally,” Em said, before Ivy could even offer a greeting.
“What?” Ivy asked.
“Sorry, sorry. Let me try that again.” Em affected a faux-curious tone. “Wow, Ivy, I’m so surprised by this development. Tell me about how you arrived at this incredibly obvious decision.”
Ivy smiled and shook her head. “You were right, okay?”
“Say that again?” Ivy could picture Em tipping her head to the side and holding a hand up to her ear.
“I said, you were right. I rushed into this job because I was scared. It’s not a good fit for me. I don’t like PR. You were right, Em. You’re always right, I should never have doubted you, and I should always, always listen to you. And you have amazing taste in coats.”
“Alright, now you’re laying it on a bit thick,” Em said, audibly grinning. “This is a big deal, though. How do you feel about it? What are you going to do now?”
Ivy let out a breath. “I feel good about it, I think. It’s not like I’m going to quit tomorrow, or anything, though.
I’m not going to do anything rash this time, I promise.
But I’m going to start looking for something new.
Maybe ghostwriting, or copywriting, or something else that leaves me some time and energy in the evenings and weekends for a while.
Because I’m going to try to write a book.
” She thought about what Justin had said when she’d told him yesterday, how certain he’d sounded of her success.
But also how sure he’d sounded that, even if she didn’t succeed, that wouldn’t make her a failure.
Her heart swelled and squeezed, leaving her slightly short of breath as she walked the final block to the bakery.
“Hell yeah you are,” Em whooped. “What about?”
“I’ll tell you more once I’ve had some breakfast,” Ivy said, joining the short line at the takeaway window of the bakery.
“Tell me now!”
Ivy scanned the menu, trying to figure out her order. “Hang on, it’s a long story,” she said vaguely, “and I want to make sure I get Justin the right bagel—”
“Justin?” Em screeched so loudly that the woman in line in front of Ivy started. Ivy pulled her phone away from her ear and mouthed an apology at the woman, who shook her head and turned back around.
“Yes,” Ivy said in a hushed voice. She screwed her eyes up, fully prepared for Em to screech again when Ivy told her the truth. “Justin. I’m getting breakfast for Justin.”
“You’re getting breakfast for Justin,” Em deadpanned. “Is that because you had a midnight snack with Justin last night? Did public relations finally turn into private relations?”
“Oh my god, how long have you been waiting to say that?” Ivy snorted.
“Oh, only since you took this job and started complaining about how infuriating he was. Babe, I’m a miserable corporate lawyer.
We read a lot of romance novels, and I know enemies to lovers when I see it, okay?
And then you texted me, telling me to tell you not to sleep with him?
Come on. So you finally slept with him last night? ”
“Um…” Ivy steeled herself. “Actually, it started a while ago.”
“I knew it! God, I just love being right. You did it in New York, didn’t you, just like I told you to! You fucked and chewed gum at the same time!”
Ivy laughed just as the woman in front of her turned around again and gave her a pointed look. “Sorry,” Ivy muttered with a wince. “Em, I have to go now. I’ll tell you everything later, okay?”
“With details! Details with interest!”
“Yes, okay, fine, goodbye,” Ivy said quickly, unable to keep the grin from her face.
She could only imagine how Em would crow when Ivy told her that this wasn’t just…
sex and working together. That the man Ivy had once vented to Em about was currently asleep in her bed, just like he’d been every morning for the last week.
And that when his family went home and he went back to his apartment, she’d miss waking up next to him, his absurdly strong body wrapped around hers as bright morning sunshine crept into the room.
He was still asleep when she got back twenty minutes later, bagels and coffee in hand.
She sat down carefully and propped her back against her pillow, but he stirred at the movement, rolling from his back to his side, his muscles shifting and sliding under his skin.
He was so beautiful like this. Nothing he did on stage could compare to Justin half awake, shirtless and sleep-mussed, his eyes fluttering open and crinkling into a smile as he took her in.
“Good morning,” he croaked.
“Good morning. I brought bagels and coffee.”
“My hero,” he groaned dramatically.
She leant down and kissed him. “No guarantee they’re New York quality, but there’s only one way to find out.”
He smiled against her mouth. “By trying every bagel in Sydney until we find the best ones?”
“Exactly.” She pressed another kiss against his lips.
“And after that the best jazz club?”
“Precisely.” Another kiss.
“And then the best twenty-four-hour Cuban diner?”
Ivy sighed. “That might be a little harder to find here. Maybe we’ll go back to New York for that one.”
“Fine by me,” Justin said. “I’ll go anywhere you want.”
Ten minutes later, the bagels were almost gone and Ivy had drunk most of her coffee. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened the email app, then took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“I got a message from the mayor of Hillstone overnight. She wants you to go out there and hand the money over in person. Make a little ceremony out of it, with one of those big cheques and everything.”
Justin stiffened. He looked down at the lid of his coffee cup for a long moment, and Ivy watched his profile.
When he spoke, it was to his lap. “I know I just said I’d go anywhere you want…”
“But you really don’t want to go there.”
He pulled his eyes from his coffee and looked at her, his expression almost beseeching.
“I know it would be more good press for the fund, but I don’t know if I can stomach it.”
“I get it,” she said gently. “And the fund already has plenty of good press, and we raised a lot yesterday.”
“We could do more.”
“That’s true. But you’ve already done a lot. I can tell her your rehearsal schedule won’t allow for it,” she offered. “Or you could say yes, but ask to do it later, when you feel ready.”
He looked back down at his coffee, and in the heavy silence, Ivy started thinking of other options. Perhaps his parents could present the cheque on his behalf. Or his cousin, who after all had also grown up there and whose firm had been a key sponsor of the gala.
Justin reached for her, and she slid her hand across the sheet until it found his. He folded his fingers between hers and held tight. “I’ll go. Will you go with me?”
Ivy’s heart swelled and squeezed again, fondness and admiration threatening to clog her throat.
He’d said it the way he’d asked to hold her, and the way he’d asked her to help him get to New York.
Like it was taking work to ask, to lay himself bare to her, but that he was willing to do it even when it frightened him.
Because when Justin Winters decided he wanted something—whether it was becoming a ballet dancer, or helping his hometown, or her—he’d do anything to have it and hold onto it.
She lifted their hands and kissed his knuckles softly.
“Fine by me,” she said against his skin, meeting his eyes. “I’ll go anywhere you want.”