Chapter 59 Ivy
The credits of The Holiday scroll up the screen. Empty Chinese containers litter my coffee table, casualties of a night that's stretched past the point where either of us wants to acknowledge the time.
Caleb's stretched out on my couch, his arm draped over my shoulders, fingers trailing slow, absentminded lines across my skin.
The biggest surprise of the night isn't how natural it is to be tucked against his side, or how his body heat is turning my brain to happy mush. It's the sight of Salem—my usually homicidal cat—stretched out on his back across Caleb's lap, belly up and purring loud enough to rival the TV's hum.
"I still can't believe you corrupted my cat with General Tso's chicken," I say, as Salem shamelessly arches into Caleb's scratches. "Years of attempted murder, and all it took was some deep-fried bribery?"
"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."
"Oh yeah? Name one that doesn't involve bribing small animals."
His fingers pause their movement on my arm, and his eyes drop to my mouth for a fraction of a second. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge, Shortcake."
Salem stretches, all four paws extended like he's trying to take up maximum space, then resettles with his head propped against Caleb's stomach. The purring kicks up another notch.
"He's claiming you," I say, watching my formerly antisocial cat make heart eyes at the guy who used to be his nemesis. "Should I be worried?"
"Nah." His fingers move from my neck to tangle in my hair. "Pretty sure I know exactly where I belong."
"So," I shift against him. "How's Pixel Dreams?"
"Where do I even start?" His expression lights with pure joy, warmth spilling through me at how genuinely excited he looks. "First day, I walked into the wrong meeting room and sat through fifteen minutes of marketing strategy before realizing I wasn't in new hire orientation."
"You didn't."
"Oh, I did. Started taking notes and everything. Even offered suggestions about their social media approach." He shakes his head. "Pretty sure Dave from marketing still thinks I'm gunning for his job."
I snort. "Please tell me there's more."
"Remember how I used to think I was hot shit with computers? Yeah, turns out building games in your bedroom doesn't exactly prep you for corporate servers. My first week, I accidentally pushed a test update to production—pretty much wiped out half the company's debug system."
"How are you not fired?"
"Honestly? No idea. Though I did have a full breakdown in the supply closet. Jules—she's this amazing dev—found me stress-eating all the emergency Twizzlers and freaking out."
"Emergency Twizzlers?"
"Every tech company has a crisis snack stash. Though the real drama was Janet's almond milk incident."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not, but I'm telling you anyway.
" He chuckles. "So, I'm coding for like, twelve hours straight, right?
Brain's basically mush. I grab this almond milk from the fridge—which, by the way, had more warning labels than a nuclear facility.
We're talking aggressive Sharpie, multiple exclamation points. "
"Tell me you didn't."
"Drank the whole thing. Didn't even think twice." He winces at the memory. "Turns out Janet from HR has a very creative way with words. Now there's a company-wide slack channel dedicated to labeling your food with increasingly threatening messages."
"At least you're making an impact."
"Oh yeah, I'm basically a workplace culture icon now. Though nothing beats the time I wore my shirt inside out to a client meeting and didn't realize until our CEO, Xander, started drawing attention to my 'bold fashion choices' in front of everyone."
The way he talks about work now, all animated and sure of himself—it's different. Good different. Like he's finally found his space in the world and isn't apologizing for taking up room in it.
"He actually green-lit this game concept I pitched. We've been working on it for a while."
"What's it about?" I ask, tilting my head to look up at him.
Caleb blushes. His ears go pink first, the flush spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath his collar, tempting me to trace its path.
"Wait." I shift in his arms. "Are you blushing? Is this game secretly some kind of digital porn?"
"No!" He catches my hand, his thumb absently stroking my wrist. "It's just . . . I kind of based the main character on you."
"What?"
"I couldn't talk to you," he says, voice rough. "Couldn't fix what I'd broken. So, I started building this world where you still existed. Where I hadn't fucked everything up. Sounds creepy as hell now that I'm saying it out loud."
"No." I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, turning those blue eyes nearly black. "It sounds . . ." Perfect. Devastating. Everything I never knew I wanted. "Tell me about her. About me."
"You're this badass witch who owns this haunted bookshop. But like, cozy haunted. Not horror movie haunted."
"Am I at least hot?" I manage to tease.
"Yeah," he says, voice dropping to that register that makes my thighs clench. "You're fucking gorgeous. Just like the real thing."
I shift against him, pressing closer until I'm practically in his lap. His hand tightens on my hip, and beneath my palm, his pulse ramps up.
"Tell me more?" I try to keep my voice steady, but it comes out breathy.
"It's this cozy magical town, kind of like here, but with more floating books and less Danny conspiracy theories. You—well, the character—owns this bookshop that's been in her family for generations. But it's haunted by all these ghosts with unfinished business."
"Ghosts?" I can't help smiling at his enthusiasm.
"Yeah, but not scary ones. More like lost souls. Each one has a story that needs solving." His fingers trace up my spine, making me shiver. "The whole place is alive with magic—books that fly off shelves, teacups that pour themselves, crystals that actually work."
"And let me guess, there's a black cat?"
As if on cue, Salem lifts his head and lets out a soft meow.
"Yup," Caleb confirms. "Who may or may not go after pizza delivery guys. I might've worked through a little personal trauma there."
I laugh. "So, you made a whole video game about me because you missed me?"
"Because I couldn't stop thinking about you," he corrects. "Because even when I was trying to get my life together in Boston, everything good I made somehow turned into you."
I should say something. Anything. But I've never been anyone's muse before. Never mattered this much.
"Caleb . . ."
"It's probably weird," he says quickly, fingers stilling like he's preparing for rejection. "Making a whole digital world because you blocked my number."
"It isn't." I catch his hand before it slips away, lacing our fingers tight. "I love it. You should be proud of yourself."
Something vulnerable flashes across his face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I squeeze his fingers. "Though I have to ask, does digital me have better coordination? Or am I still falling down stairs in the virtual world too?"
His laugh vibrates through me. "Made you exactly as clumsy as real life. Authenticity in game design is crucial."
"Rude." But I'm smiling as I burrow closer. "What about you? Did you give yourself a cameo as the hot pizza guy Salem terrorizes?"
"Please." He rolls his eyes. "I'm obviously the mysterious coffee shop owner across the street. Very brooding. Excellent hair. Makes a mean latte."
"Of course you are."
"You know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I think part of me always wanted to be someone you'd remember like that. Someone worth building whole worlds around."
"You've always been my whole world. I just didn't know how to deserve you."
"And now?"
"Now I'm going to spend every day trying."
The fire pops and crackles, casting shadows that dance across the walls. Salem's purring has reached jet engine levels, and Caleb's hands haven't stopped their gentle exploration.
"What about you?" He asks softly. "What have you been up to while I was gone?"
I shift against him, hyper-aware of every point where our bodies connect. "I visited my parents in Bali."
"How are Sage and Jasper?" His hand slides higher up my thigh. "Still chasing enlightenment across continents?"
"Still nomadic as ever." I try to focus as his fingers trace idle patterns through my leggings. "They were teaching at this amazing retreat center near Ubud. The whole place was surrounded by rice terraces, like emerald stairs climbing into the clouds."
His thumb finds that sensitive spot behind my knee, and my breath hitches. "Sounds very you."
"It was exactly what I needed." The words come softer than I mean them to.
"We did sunrise meditation at Tanah Lot temple, this incredible ancient sanctuary built right into the volcanic rocks over the ocean.
The energy there . . ." I trail off, suddenly remembering our fight about my 'witchy woo-woo bullshit. '
"Hey." He shifts, and suddenly I'm being lifted into his lap. "Look at me."
I end up straddling him, my hands braced on his chest. His heart thunders under my palm. "Caleb—"
"I was an ass." His fingers flex on my hips, holding me steady. "What I said about your spiritual stuff? I was being a dick because I was scared."
"Scared of what?" My voice barely carries over the fire's crackle.
"Of how much I wanted to believe in it. In magic, in fate, in something bigger.
" His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer until our foreheads touch.
"You see the world in this incredible way.
All this beauty and meaning and possibility.
And I was too busy being terrified of my own feelings to appreciate that it's one of the things I love most about you. "
The word 'love' hangs between us. "You—"
"Love that you believe in something bigger?" He smirks. "Yeah. Love that you see magic everywhere. Love that you probably did seventeen different crystal rituals while you were in Bali."
"Twenty-three, actually."
His laugh rumbles through both of us. "Of course you did."
One second, I'm staring at his mouth, and the next I'm crushing my lips to his, pouring everything I'm feeling into it. His hand tangles in my hair while the other grips my hip, hauling me closer until there's no space left between us.
When his teeth nip at my bottom lip, I shiver. His hands travel down, gripping my ass and pulling me flush against him.
"Stay," I breathe against his lips. "Please."
He eases away, only far enough to meet my gaze, and the raw need in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
"I want nothing more," he says. "But not if you think this is only about—"
"It's not." I grab his face between my hands. "I want you to stay because I want you. All of you. Not just this."
"Yeah?" His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I have to resist the urge to bite it.
I lean in. "Stay because I want to wake up with you. Because I want morning coffee and stupid jokes and everything else. Stay because—"
His mouth catches mine again, softer this time but no less intense. When he pulls back, his smile could light up the whole town. "Then I'm not going anywhere."