Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
D riving home, Ivy called Anna to let her know that she could expect her in the office sooner than planned.
“What’s wrong? You sound weird.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, tripping her bottom lip. “I really fucked up.”
“Tell me what’s happening. Are you safe?”
She sniffed, pulling her car to the side of the road, unable to properly see past her watery lashes. “Yep, I’m safe.” She pulled down the long sleeves of his hoodie and rubbed at her eyes, inhaling deeply to capture the last remains she held of him. She retold what had unfolded since they last spoke.
“Ivy, that’s…” She could picture Anna on the other end of the line, looking at her phone in horror. “His wife, Ivy.”
“I know. Fuck.” She pressed her head against the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Obviously you didn’t mean it. But why would you say it? Why did you even start the fight in the first place? We had literally just spoken.”
“I just panicked. I didn’t even know I wanted that job until I got excited and then he just appeared, and I had this knot in my stomach and—” She took a breath to slow herself down. “I thought he was going to dampen down how good I felt about the promotion, and I freaked out. Then all I could think about was me propping Chris up so he could get the last job and everything went black.”
“Or red.”
Ivy laughed weakly, before a wrack of sobs overtook her.
“Look gal, I’m not going to sit here and pretend we’re all logical all the time, you’ve seen enough of my shit. But getting in a knockout before he can so much as scratch you is just—” Anna exhaled down the line and Ivy’s stomach knotted. “Does your face feel sufficiently spited now you’ve hacked off your nose and stamped on it?”
She chewed on her lip, the salt stinging her tongue as it spilled from her eyes. “Ouch.”
“Well, yeah, Ives. This is a bit of a fucking mess.”
She rubbed hard at her eyes until they filled with static, then sucked in a breath and blinked. Looking at her puffy face in the mirror, and her uncharacteristically wild hair tossed to the side, she tutted at herself. Who was she to look the heartbroken one here? Sniffing and stretching her neck, she spoke up.
“No, you’re right. I’m going to apologise and then leave him well enough alone. He shouldn’t have to—” A brief sob halted her promise.
“Ivy—”
“No, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “He was so good, Anna. And I don’t want to ruin that.”
“Ivy, you are a good person, you just…” Her voice was low and steady. “You fucked up. But you shouldn’t?—”
“Hey, Anna, I have to go. I’m in a passing place and have to move the car.”
* * *
She was approaching the cottage she was staying in rapidly. Minutes from being home. And then she wasn’t. Ivy skipped her exit at the roundabout and continued along the main road south. She didn’t turn on a playlist, didn’t call anyone for moral support, and she drove back to the scene of the crime.
Twenty minutes later, Ivy was walking down Ross’ driveway. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the day, and he wasn’t here, obviously, which somewhat lessened the effect.
She knocked the door anyway, to confirm that the absence of his car definitely meant he was out. As much as she knew the door would stay closed, her breath still felt shallow, unable to fill the bottoms of her lungs as its path was blocked by her heart, wedged firmly in her mouth. Hovering on the doorstep longer than was necessary, Ivy finally moved back. Realistically, he could be gone for hours. Leaving her throat, her heart slid downward, sinking into her stomach. A shiver echoed it, tingling down her spine, so she pulled on the fleece she had tied round her waist before walking down here. It wasn’t actually cold, but she figured a walk would do her good, heating her skin and regulating her pulse until he came back, so she set off, giving the dock a wide berth though she was aiming for the edge of the water.
After about an hour of walking, she turned back. Retracing her steps felt slower, navigating the rocks and bog growing increasingly laborious as she got closer to the house. Occasionally she slipped, cursing at each offending obstacle as her skin itched in frustration. Ivy huffed as she clambered up the small verge, surprised by her fleeting breath considering the walk had hardly been arduous. Straightening up, she took in the empty driveway again. Her car was in the church car park a short way away, but still no sign of his. Her tongue tickled the corner of her mouth as she weighed up her options, drumming her middle finger against the pad of her thumb. Was she actually going to stay here and wait? Indefinitely? She could be here all day, and, looking back over the loch, it was almost certainly going to start raining in the next hour or so. Really, Ivy thought, she should just send him another text—that he probably wouldn’t answer, maybe not even read— and say she’d stopped by and was on the island. She was sure there’d be some paper in the car to leave a note if she wanted to go old school. The back of an old receipt was always romantic. She could not— should not— spend an entire day waiting for a man. Even if it was The Man. Even if she was maybe a little bit in love with him. Hanging around all day was ridiculous, pathetic really. And in the rain?
As she sat down on the far end of the dock, she threw a glance up to the impending clouds.
“Ridiculous,” she murmured to herself, biting back a nervous tick of a smile. “Give me a break.” She begged the weather, or the universe, or her inner self, squinting at the sky.
The wind was picking up now, intermittent gusts driving Ivy’s knees up under her chin. She tugged up the zipper on her fleece and regretted not bringing a book or headphones. Fidgeting with a loose splinter on the last plank of the dock, she looked down at her phone. Three hours down, unknown to go. It had barely been returned to the wood, before she lifted it again and opened up her emails.
“What are you doing?”
Ivy whipped round, nearly losing her balance. He rushed forward a few paces, before stopping dead when she righted herself. He hung awkwardly there, then. At an inbetweeny sort of distance that erased any hope that Ivy might have been clinging to. She’d liked to have said it took effort to look up at him. That she had to force herself to find his eye-line amidst his backlit silhouette. But she didn’t. Couldn’t look away, even as the sun behind him stung at her eyes. Worse still, she couldn’t dampen down the buoyant sensation in her chest when he appeared. Infected by it, she got to her feet, brushing down the back of her legs, and edged closer to him.
“Sorry, I?—”
She tucked hair behind her ears and tried to recollect her thoughts, the sensible ones having scattered far from her reach at the sight of him. The grin threatening to escape her leash was inappropriate. She shouldn’t be smiling. She should be contrite and grovelling, solemn and apologetic. But there he was, so what can you do? She bit down on an inner corner of her lip, at least keeping it to half a smile. Clearing her throat, she continued, his clamped lips and set eyes doing a better job at reining her in than her teeth anyway. “You didn’t answer my calls.”
“Didn’t answer the door either,” he replied coolly, dropping his gaze to his feet, where he ran the toe of his boot over a scuff on the dock.
She hesitated, taming the instinctive scoff that ended up wedged in her throat. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, not missing his eyes as they darted to it, before she spoke again, as casually as she could manage.
“You were in?”
“It’s my house.”
“Your car’s not here.”
“At the garage. Neither’s yours.” He fought to look anywhere but at her, tension seeping from the creases at the corners of his eyes.
Ivy softened slightly, sure some of those creases were new since— well, new, anyway.
“It’s at the church. Thought my odds on you answering the door were better if you didn’t know it was me.”
He almost laughed, a single brow flickering before his eyes fell to hers again.
“I have windows.” A wistfulness stole into his gaze as he shoved his hands into his pockets and Ivy felt her heart squeeze.
“Well, I’ve had a lovely—” She tapped her phone screen to life and checked the time. “—three and a half hours out here, all the same.”
He nodded, his eyes still roaming across her face, searching for something she hadn’t quite sussed.
“What changed your mind?” She pressed quietly, praying he didn’t startle.
He jutted his chin out over her shoulder. “It’s about to rain.”
“Nice of you. Didn’t want to wait until I was at least a bit damp?”
His eyes fell back to her, and he sighed. Ivy felt the weight of it catch in her throat.
“Are you coming inside?” He called over his shoulder, walking back to the house.
She hung back a few steps as she followed. Enough space to take in all of him as he powered toward the door. When he reached it, he rattled the handle.
“Fuck, I thought I left it on the snib. The spare?—”
Ivy hadn’t noticed him step back and turn, continuing on her own path behind and so they crashed clumsily into each other.
“Sorry,” they both said, neither moving.
His hands were on her arms still, where he had caught her. She felt his fingers flex briefly before he dropped them, leaving a sting behind in the empty space. Something glittered in his eyes, and Ivy prayed they lingered long enough on hers for her to translate it.
He swallowed. “The door’s locked.”
“Right.”
No one moved. If she did, he would likely run, and she would rather suffocate in this in between as he watched her, than do anything to move the needle before she knew which way it was going to fall. If he did?—
He tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. A soft gasp escaped Ivy, and his eyes fell to her mouth, his own lips parting. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she was sure her breathing would be heard across the loch, if only her ears weren’t roaring with static, too loud for her to be able to tell. Her eyes flitted about his face, watching his eyebrows draw together a fraction of a second before he moved. His hand slipped from behind her ear to cup her face. She tilted her chin as he dipped his face and then the sky opened.
Exhaling sharply, Ivy squeezed her eyes together a moment as she registered the sudden loss of contact amidst the downpour. When she opened them, he was standing well clear of her, water dripping from his hair, wild eyes fixed on her.
“Ross—”
He blinked a second, the only motion in him, as if coming back into himself. “I’ll get the key,” he replied, stony faced, blowing past her.
She watched as he overturned a stone across the path and retrieved a key, then opened the door and went inside. He left it open for her to follow, but his eyes remained forward. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ivy swore under her breath and shut the door behind her.
The house was quiet as she kicked her shoes off. She nudged them into a neat pair in the corner and pulled the damp fleece off over her head. Combing her fingers through her hair, the wedding picture snagged in the corner of her eye. A knot tightened under her ribs as she leant against the console table, resisting the urge to trace along their faces, or apologise. She tapped her fingers on the corner, chewing on her cheek when she realised it was Julia her brain was drilling sorrys for.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped, not hearing his return to the hallway. Understandably so, as when she spun to face him, he stayed back in the kitchen doorframe, feet from her.
“I was just?—”
“Here, Ivy. What are you doing here?”
Her insides reeled as she took him in, rigid against the wall, dark curls hanging limply across his face. She clung to the table behind her, searching for solid ground as the valley between them widened, bridges crumbling away the longer she waited to answer.
“I had to apologise.”
“I got the texts and the voicemails. Apology accepted.”
The hollow voice didn’t suit him. Felt foreign coming from that full, rich chest. As sorrow bounced around behind his eyes, Ivy gave up her safe footing and stepped forward.
“You don’t have to. Accept it, I mean. I just have to say it. Properly. Not over text. I?—”
“Ivy—”
“No.” She held up a hand as he went to move closer. “I royally fucked up, Ross. I shouldn’t have been annoyed at you anyway. I was just freaked out about?—”
“Us?”
She blew out a long breath. “Us, the job, I don’t know. Nothing you had done. But what I said about you and Julia?” Her voice cracked. “Unforgivable. I don’t know how to?—”
“I don’t have to accept the apology, Ivy. But I do.”
Her eyes snapped up to his, and she blinked away a glassy sheen, surprised to find that the promise brimming in his was still there.
“You weren’t far off anyway. If I could keep everyone I lo— everyone still and safe on that fireplace I would. I shouldn’t have kicked you out.”
“I’d have done worse if it was me.” She sniffed back tears, both of them still hanging in the space between.
“I’m sorry about Mòr as well. I just couldn’t face—” He trailed off, running a hand down his face, failing to clear any of the anguish there.
“I understood,” she murmured, offering a soft smile.
It seemed he was speaking more to himself, but Ivy closed the distance anyway, hooking her pinky around his.
“I’m so sorry,” she reiterated.
“I know.”
“I really didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“I still want this.”
His thumb froze its gentle rhythm over her hand when she said it.
They stood there a second, gazes entangled in one another. As the knots tightened around Ivy, she watched his end loosening and undoing until he stepped backwards, retreating to his doorframe. She had covered so much ground, the console table miles behind them, so she stayed there as the supports fell away entirely.
His dark eyes clung to her, leaving her floundering on the end of his line, while pain and panic flashed behind them. All she could do was look back, not enough length on the tether to tear herself away. It could have been thirty seconds or two hours that they stood there, a desperate stalemate wordlessly transpiring.
“Ivy.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, shoving her feet into her shoes crunching her face into neutral as she swallowed down involuntary responses to the care he couldn’t keep out of his stare.
“Could you just— Ivy! Hold on two seconds.” His fingertips lingered on the small of her back as she gripped the door handle, scarlet staining her cheeks.
“I said what I came to say, Ross.” The beat of silence echoed the moment before.
“I know. Fuck.” He dragged his hand down his face, looking like she’d slapped him, and it shattered her, ice water filling the cracks. “I just can’t do this, Ivy. I?—”
She straightened, her voice thick with the tears she refused to insult him with. “I get it, I told you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s my line,” she said, half heartedly nudging him. After a second, without looking at him, she continued. “I really am sorry, Ross.”
Then she was out the door, pulling it shut behind her, but she didn’t hear the latch confirm her safe escape.
“Jesus.”
She spun round to see him shaking out his hand and her heart soared.
“Well, that was stupid.” She tutted, walking back towards him.
“What part?” His half-smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Going to be hard to take photos or fix things with a broken hand.”
“Ach, nah this is fi—” He said as he nonchalantly leant against the door jamb, moving to run the offending hand through his hand. And winced.
“Like I said. Stupid.” She grinned.
“Please let me explain.”
“Why you stuck your hand in the door?”
“Are you always like this?”
“Ross, it’s fine. I get it.” And she did.
“I’m just finding my feet, and you’re...”
“And I’m leaving.”
“Yeah.”
They paused there a moment, until he pulled her into a hug. She swallowed back tears and breathed him in deeply.
“Friends?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”