Go Home, Ivy

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“I ’m going to get in the shower,” Ross said, downing the final dregs of tea from the mug Ivy had handed him when he’d finally resurfaced the next morning. He nodded down at her bare thighs on the countertop, an apparently welcome feature of her new uniform, won from his own wardrobe. “Nice outfit.”

As he walked away, she danced in place, taking a bite of a piece of toast.

She cleared the trail of discarded clothes from the hallway and threw the remnants of breakfast into the bin and dishwasher, occupying herself another ten minutes before checking the phone she’d forgotten to charge in the flurry of their return last night. Admittedly she’d forgotten to check it long before it had died anyway, banishing it to the bottom of her bag as soon as they’d left for the beach yesterday.

Duncan : Ivy, call me when you get this. We have an opening for a new junior partner and I want your thoughts before I recommend you. -D

Her stomach tore into her mouth, and she felt her fingertips tingle as she clicked his contact and dialled his number.

“Ivy, thanks for calling so quickly. Was worried you were out of range up there!”

“No, sorry, I just forgot to plug my phone in last night.” She fought to keep her voice level.

“Not like you.”

It wasn’t like her, no. Ivy plugged her phone in. Answered calls after two rings, replied to emails as soon as they hit her inbox.

“Anyway, the publicity department is expanding and we’re looking for a junior partner. I was speaking with Chris, and we think you’d be perfect. This BBC lark is exactly what I’ve been waiting for from you Ivy.”

“Duncan, oh my God, thank you.” She spun on the spot, silently squealing while he continued.

“Pay rise, better contracts, on the path to senior partner with time, obviously. You’ll have to interview, but it’s just a formality really. Are you interested?”

“Yes. Yes! I’m definitely interested.” She looked around the room she was currently standing in. “Em, can you give me until end of day to confirm?”

“No problem, I have a management meeting tomorrow, so as long as you let me know before ten, I can make the recommendation then.”

“Of course. Thank you again, Duncan. I’ll talk to you later.”

The second she threw the phone down, Ivy screamed. The second after that, Ross ran through the door, dripping.

“What happened?”

He had a towel haphazardly slung round his hips and a frantic look in his eye as he got to her.

“I’m getting promoted,” Ivy squealed, twirling in place.

He exhaled, his eyes closing. “Good scream then?”

She laughed, throwing her arms around him. “Great scream. My Help I’m Being Murdered Scream is much more emotive.” Hands closed at the nape of his neck, she leant back and smiled. “Thank you for checking.”

Ross drew her into him, hands splayed over her back. “Congratulations, mo chridhe,” he whispered into her hair.

Fused to his chest, Ivy could feel his heart bound against her, gradually slowing as they stood there while hers only quickened. As the tension dissipated from his bare back muscle under her fingers, he spoke again.

“Right.” He dropped her into a dip, hand sliding up her thigh to hold her knee to his waist. When he smiled down at her, water dripped from his curls onto her cheek, and she laughed. He planted a kiss and then righted her. “I’m going to finish up.” He jerked his head towards the bathroom and pulled away, his eyes the last thing to leave her.

Ivy’s front was soaked as she watched him slope away, enjoying the way the soft light bounced off his damp skin enough to distract herself from the sticky, cool sensation spreading across her chest. Once he was gone from view, she dove for her phone to text Anna, feeling hot wired as danced about the room.

This was all she’d ever wanted. Her friend had better be free to face time, like, now. Ross would be expecting the screaming this time, so it wouldn’t give him a second heart attack when she answered. Probably. Ivy paused, thumbs hanging over a stream of exclamation marks on the screen.

Which part?

Which part had she always wanted? Which part was she about to gush to her best friend about? The promotion, or the man? This job had been on twenty-two-year-old Ivy’s graduation vision board, literally. She had had one of those, with this company, and this sort of role, and had stared at it though the entire interview process and then for the first year she’d worked there so that it all felt real when she lay in bed at night. It had eventually gone when she had moved in with Chris, but by then she didn’t need to pinch herself every time she signed off a work email. He’d laughed while he helped her unpack, I love that you did this , he’d said kissing her cheek, and setting the A3 poster board with the rest of the boxes for recycling when Ivy laughed with him. The vision board hadn’t had Chris on it. No venues or dresses or date nights or rings.

Her eyes flicked to the empty doorway Ross had passed through a few minutes ago now. God, the butterflies in the pit of her stomach could take a day off, could they not? Ivy bit her lip, strangling it in place until it submitted, relaxing into a flat line with no threat of a smile at the thought of him just metres away. She… well at the very least really liked him. How was she going to do this? A dream job in Edinburgh and a dream man two hundred miles away?

Ivy tugged at the wet cotton rubbing on her neck, rolling her shoulders trying to adjust. She walked to the sink, slamming on the tap and filling a glass of water. Chugging it down, she squeezed her eyes shut muttering at herself to think. Moving to set it on the counter, she missed, and it smashed on the floor at her feet.

“Ivy, you okay?” Ross called out, mercifully staying in the shower this time.

“Fine, sorry, just a glass. I’ll—” Ivy stared at the glass beneath her and her vision swam. Her breathing heavy, static filled her ears.

Her hands were up at chest level as she stayed fixed on the shattered pieces glinting up at her. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she clawed at the hoodie now clinging to her skin, the heavy fabric hanging uncomfortably as it failed to dry off.

“Ross,” she choked out, throwing the jumper to the floor, “I’ll be down at the loch.” She stepped over the glass quickly, barrelling toward the front door, not looking to her side as she passed his room.

On the mainland, most people who indulge in wild swimming or cold-water immersion are doing it in lochs. The whole country is full of them, many tourist attractions in their own right. They’re usually surrounded by gorgeous hills or mountains, offering the benefit of an accompanying hike or wild camping spot. They are just as cold and just as wild as their oceanic counterparts, and Ivy had made the most of what the central belt and much of the highlands had to offer. Then she had come up here, where the sea was everywhere, and learned there was no competition. Loch Sealg was at least a sealoch, and it was all she had right now.

Having abandoned his hoodie on the kitchen floor, Ivy was again grateful for the isolated position of his house, meaning she could run to her car topless without much thought. Getting to the boot, she threw on her dry robe and retrieved the emergency swimsuit she kept in there.

Once she had crossed a well-worn path in the grass leading away from his house, she reached a wooden pier that stretched a few metres over the water. As it creaked under her, she wondered if he had built it or found it here as is. A smattering of repairs and paint patches along its course looked new, suggesting he had poured at least some labour into the structure.

Reaching the end, she slipped off the borrowed boxers and manoeuvred on the plain black one piece, laughing as she did that maybe the more sedate affair would’ve avoided this whole mess if she’d worn it at Bosta that day.

When she slid into the water and waded out to shoulder height, everything quietened. The sting of her skin slowly mellowing until she was able to dunk her head under. The water was dark, so her eyes stayed closed, unable to see anything either way and she hung down there a few seconds. When the quiet turned to nothing, she re-emerged, clearer.

Back on the end of the pier a few minutes later, she sat in her dry robe, knees tucked under her chin. After the storm and days of lingering dullness, this morning the sun was out. It glinted off the loch as Ivy stared down at her reflection and she dried off quickly. The thick robe was barely necessary, she could have laid out and aired in a few minutes, but the extra layer of protection across her back and shoulders felt needed with the house to the rear. She needed to think. To maintain the clarity from the water and sort things before she went back inside.

This was a dream job. Maybe it had fallen off the radar after the last few months, but now it was back. After Chris had gotten the promotion, she thought there was no path upwards at the company, that she was going to stay exactly where she was. But now they believed in her. She had of course looked at the island jobs as a way out, but maybe they were a way in. This project had gotten her the leg up she needed.

It had also gotten her Ross.

Warming under the sun, Ivy slipped off the robe and stretched.

Thinking back to the evening on Sandaigh when she had felt more passion for her work than she had for weeks, she lingered on Ross’ contribution and her conclusion. The two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. Edinburgh was barely a hour’s flight from Stornoway, and she would be here all the time for work anyway if she had her way in the negotiations for her contract. Was Ivy going to be the girl who let her career fall by the wayside thanks to a man again? No. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do both.

“Hey.”

Ivy turned around and squinted up at him, silhouetted against the sun. Ross stood over her, in a navy fleece and shorts, holding a cup of tea and pile of clothes.

A reflex smile split Ivy’s cheeks as he clambered down to sit on the edge beside her, finally giving her a good view of him.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip of the tea and fingering through the outfit choice he’d provided.

“Figured it was probably a bit hot for your jeans.”

It was, but either way, she would happily have draped herself in this curation of his wardrobe. For a second she wondered what had happened to all Julia’s clothes, not that she thought he’d lack enough tact to have brought those to her. But did he have them? Were they stuffed in a box somewhere, or had he let those go too, onto a new life?

“Makes it much easier to steal your hoodies if you just hand them over.” Ivy set the mug by her feet and stood up.

“You could just ask.” He quickly looked back at his tea when she slid the straps of her suit off her shoulders, blinking as if the sun had bothered him.

Ivy scrunched her nose, throwing the red towelling jumper over her head before taking off the rest of her swimsuit.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

He rolled his eyes, but Ivy could see him smile. As he lifted his mug to his mouth, Ivy hooked the swimsuit with her foot and flicked it at him. He groaned, flexing his back away from the damp material.

“That gone well for you in the past?” He half turned over his shoulder, one hand shielding his eyes as he smirked.

“Terribly actually,” she murmured in his ear as she bent over to retrieve the comb that lived in the pocket of her dry robe. He threw the suit back at her shins.

“Do you want to go to Mòr for dinner tonight again? Actual dinner service. Kirsty wants to celebrate your promotion.”

Ivy stopped her wandering across the dock. “How does Kirsty know I got a promotion?”

“I texted her.”

“Your sister-in-law got diagnosed with cancer forty-eight hours ago and you texted her that I got my dream job?”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” He shrugged, one knee now up on the wooden slats, watching her.

“Because I’m not a dick.” She waved the comb in the air as she panic-planned a way to apologise to Kirsty.

“Ivy.” He reached up and took her hand. “Life doesn’t stop because of cancer. And the people with cancer usually don’t want it to. It made her happy.” A knowing look swam in his eyes and Ivy softened. “Plus, the other thing I told her made her even happier.” He smirked, taking a mouthful of tea.

Ivy’s eyes widened. “You did not.”

“I had to explain why I knew about your promotion first.” His face was the picture of innocence.

“Yeah, I’m sure that was the order you told her.” She attempted to plaster over her smile with faux indignation.

“My sister-in-law got diagnosed with cancer forty-eight hours ago, Ivy. She needed some good news. Have a heart.”

“You’re such a dick.” She laughed, returning to brushing her hair.

“She really is happy. Let her have a party.”

“Define party.”

“Just the four of us again, same as last night.”

Ivy’s heart leapt. She wanted there to be a four of us so badly.

“Except now they know about us.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.”

“Honestly, she’s going to want you to buy the house next door to them when you move. I had to put her on mute until the screaming stopped,”

Ivy was halfway through sitting back down beside him. She knocked the mug over and it rolled into the water as she turned to him.

“What?”

“You’ll have to ban her from that tourism office if you want to get any work done. She?—”

“The tourism office?”

He nodded, sliding his tea over to her. “Don’t think the drive will stop her.”

Her eyes searched his face as he spoke, and she felt an itch creep up her neck. He looked so light. Animated. He spoke about this version of the future the way they might talk over breakfast about their Kirsty years from now.

“Ross.” She shifted closer to him. “The job is in Edinburgh. At my company.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, looking at her, but didn’t continue.

“Why did— I didn’t say it was here.”

He turned around to face out over the loch. “Kirsty just said—” He scratched behind his ear and cleared his throat. “She thought you’d mentioned a job here. We just assumed.”

“There was.” She looked up, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But this is such a good— I wanted this for a long time.”

“No, of course. Congratulations.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivy whispered, her mouth dry.

Ross wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “Don’t be,” he murmured into her hair.

Speaking into the space between his neck and shoulder, Ivy went on. “I’m still here for another week. And I’ll be back all the time. We can still… if you want to.”

“I want to.”

Ivy released her breath and sat up. He wiped tears from under her eyes, swiping his thumbs across both her cheeks. He held her face a moment.

“This is good, Ivy. You’re doing well.”

Her heart tore into her throat and a ragged sob broke apart their embrace.

“I know.”

“Seriously, it’ll be fine.”

She couldn’t look at him, pressure rising through her, his arms around her shoulders beginning to squeeze.

“Yep. No. I’m really—” She swallowed, pulling back, still yet to meet his gaze. “I’m really glad.”

Ivy could see the panic on his face as she shuffled backwards, haphazardly collecting her belongings from the pier. Heat blazed across her skin, and she tried to remain calm. His eyes followed while his feet remained planted. She had a sudden recollection of him taking pictures on Sandaigh, one of those days. Her in his viewfinder, wanting to get close enough to understand, but aware that sudden movements would result in bolting.

“Ivy…”

“Sorry. Can you— I just need like ten minutes. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She all but ran back up the dock, tears obscuring the path, all too aware of the absence of footsteps behind her.

* * *

She tumbled into his bathroom, and scoffed at her swollen, tear-stained face in the mirror. The face of a woman with her dream job offer in hand, indeed.

Splashing cold water across her cheeks, she dialled Anna’s phone number and filled her in.

“Is there still a job out there?” Anna asked after she was brought up to speed.

“What?” Ivy’s brow creased.

“I mean, could you take the Stornoway job instead? And not come back?”

Ivy set the phone down on the counter. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“I am. But?—”

“You just want me to throw everything away? Everything I’ve spent the last nearly ten years working on— with your help, can I add?— away because I met a boy?”

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I just think that for the last eighteen months that you’ve been going out there, you seem so happy. You talk about that place like you’ve found fucking nirvana, Ivy. The projects you’re doing are nothing like what we used to talk about, and frankly would bore me stiff, but you sound like you’re planning the Met Gala and organising multimillion marketing campaigns when you describe them.”

“I don’t think— I’m just glad they were getting me to where I need to be.”

“Ok. If that’s what you think is best. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so passionate. And, like sure, fuck the hot sailor while you’re out there. But it’s not about him. You could make the decision to stay, and it be one hundred percent you.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You don’t have to right now. Piss about Edinburgh for another ten years if you like. But you’re not tied into one dream just because we wished it when we were twenty-two, Ives.”

“I’m not ‘pissing about Edinburgh’,” she scoffed.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ivy.”

“Do you know what? I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ivy, don’t—” Anna tried to edge in, but she’d already hung up, slamming her phone down onto the counter and inhaling sharply. She clutched the edge of the counter, looking at herself in the mirror.

It would be easy, she thought, to give it all up. To slip into this life that was taking form in front of her. That’s what they all thought too. She released a teary, indignant laugh. Then, in a month, or six, or thirty, she would have to look at herself in the mirror. Maybe even this mirror. His mirror, not hers. And admit that she’d walked away from the dream.

“Absolutely not.” She said to her blurry reflection.

When she eventually left the bathroom and returned outside, he had remained just where she had left him, now on the phone himself.

“Hold on. She’s back. I’ll call you later. Bye, Kirst. Bye.”

“News travels fast around here,” Ivy deadpanned.

“I was worried.”

The gentle way he spoke infuriated her, like he was easing his way around a scared wildcat. It infuriated her more that he was entirely justified. Claws were easy. Claws would keep feelings and hearts out of this. Claws might make him make the decision for her.

“Yep.” She folded her arms across her chest and avoided his gaze.

“Can I say something?”

“It’s your house.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “I’m really happy for you. I know how hard you’ve worked for that job. But I’m really going to fucking miss you.”

Her eyes shot up to his and she fought the urge to fall into him, to agree and to come up with a plan together. Her heart stung and screamed for him and she knew all the more then that that couldn’t happen.

“Right.”

“I’m not asking you to stay. You’re a grown woman. And you deserve your dream job. But I’m going to be a dick for ten seconds and say that, when Kirsty and I thought you were taking a job here, I was so happy.”

“You have no right?—”

“I think I do,” he replied. “I’m allowed to say I don’t want my girlfriend to be two hundred miles away. Even if she should absolutely take the job if that’s what she wants.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” she sniped, snatching her hand from him.

“Do you want to be?” He followed her eyes as she searched out an escape, standing close enough to disrupt her train of thought.

“I—”

“Because I would like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Obviously!” She shouted, hand raking through her hair.

“Then what are you doing?!” His cool finally left the building with hers.

“Because I have a life, Ross!” The volume surprised her, the desperation even more so. “Because I am not putting myself second, my career second, again.”

“You’re not! You wanted that tourism job before you even knew I existed. You?—”

“Don’t tell me what I wanted. You don’t know me” Her voice felt thick as she spat out the words. She wiped her nose as he stared her down.

“You told?—”

“Well now I’m telling you I want this.”

“Yeah, you look thrilled about it,” he muttered, scuffing his foot along a loose plank of the decking.

“I am.”

They glared at each other, metres apart. Ivy’s chest heaved as heat filled her. Her field of vision was dark aside from him burning in the centre.

He spoke next.

“I think we’d be better talking about this later.”

As he brushed past her, a fuse lit, and Ivy saw the way out.

“I have a life, Ross. I’m not another woman you can stick on the fireplace until you have a plan even though you know exactly what I want.”

In the immediate vacuum after her words died away, all other noise vanished.

He whipped round to face her and, taking in the hollow look on his face, Ivy thought she was going to be sick.

Glinting as the sun reflected off the water onto his face, tears bordered his eyes. In the bright light, he was washed out and fragile. His lips hung slightly open, but no sound came out, any energy he had rippling down to his hands which fidgeted by his side, as if scrambling to find something to cling to.

“Ross,” she choked.

“Go home, Ivy. Congratulations on the promotion.”