Chapter Thirty-Three
Ivy
The office space smells like fresh paint and possibility.
I stand in the center of the empty room, sunlight streaming through tall windows that overlook a quiet street in the Highlands neighborhood of Louisville. Twenty minutes from Madison's school in Anchorage. Thirty from downtown. Close enough to everything that matters.
"As you can see, the previous tenant moved out last month." The realtor, a woman named Carol with sensible heels and an iPad, gestures around the space. "Great bones. Plenty of natural light. The building has fiber internet, updated HVAC, and there's a coffee shop on the first floor."
Madison wanders to the windows, peering at the street below. "This is way better than that other place we saw yesterday."
"The one that smelled like old socks?" I ask.
"And sadness." She turns back to me, grinning.
I walk over to her, my reflection ghosting in the glass. Behind me, the empty office waits to be filled. My vision. My future.
My stomach flips and I press my palm against the warm glass.
It’s been a little over a week since I walked away from Thorne.
My chest aches, a dull throb I've learned to ignore but can't quite eliminate. Instead, I focus on Madison’s smile that’s been almost constant since I told her we’re staying in Kentucky.
Her happiness is worth all my anxiety. My dad was less than thrilled, but supportive.
“What kind of law did you say you practice?" Carol asks, tapping notes into her tablet.
"Environmental law." Each day the dream feels less like fantasy and more like something I can actually touch.
Carol moves to the window beside me, her eyebrows lifting. "Smart. Kentucky could use more of that, especially with all the development happening along the river."
Turning to the window, I take in the room. I can already see where my desk would go, where I'd put bookshelves. How I'd arrange a small seating area for clients. This isn't like the sleek, intimidating offices at Huntsman & Fellows. This is something different. Something mine.
Madison pulls out her phone, then looks up at me. "Can I take pictures? For like, planning purposes?"
"Good idea. Yes."
Madison moves around the space, photographing different angles. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and my chest does that familiar tightening when I see it’s from my dad. Not Thorne.
I’m an idiot. I asked for space and Thorne is giving it to me.
Yet, I've almost called him a hundred times. Probably more. I lost count after fifty.
Each time, I resist. Not because I don't want to hear his voice. God, I'd give anything to hear that low rumble, to feel his hand warm against the small of my back. But I need to be sure of my own path first.
For myself. For Madison. For the life I want to build.
Not for a man who makes decisions for me instead of with me, no matter how much he professes to care.
My phone buzzes in my hand. This time it's a text from Lillianna.
Are you free? Want to meet with Rosalia and me for coffee?
I type back.
Looking at office spaces in the Highlands with Madison. I’m almost done. There's a coffee shop on the first floor of this building. When?
Her response is immediate.
15 minutes?
See you then.
"So?" Carol asks, letting the question hang without pushing. "What do you think? I have two other clients interested in viewing the space this week."
I look around one more time, letting myself feel it. The rightness of it. I catch Madison’s eye. She nods.
“We’ll take it,” I say.
Carol smiles. “Perfect. Would you like to follow me back to my office to sign the paperwork?”
“Could we do it tomorrow? I actually need to run.” I point between Madison and me. “We have a meeting downstairs in a few minutes."
She looks away from her phone. "We do?"
"Lillianna and Rosalia," I tell her. "They want to meet for coffee."
"Oh." Her whole face brightens. “Okay, yeah. That's cool.”
"No problem." Carol taps on her iPad. “Does 2 p.m. tomorrow work for you?"
"Perfect. Thank you."
Madison and I take the stairs to the first floor, the scent of fresh coffee growing stronger with each step. It’s a dark roast and something sweet, maybe cinnamon. I might pick this office space for this smell alone.
The coffee shop is cozy and warm with exposed brick walls and mismatched furniture. We grab a table near the window that’s big enough for four. I get a latte for me, and a caramel macchiato for Madison.
Lillianna and Rosalia arrive exactly fifteen minutes later. Lillianna looks tired, but smiles when she sees us. “Are you okay?” I mouth to her.
She tilts her head from side to side in a maybe gesture. Before I can ask more, they slide into the empty seats, and Rosalia asks. "How did the office viewing go?"
"Really good, actually," I say. “We picked the place above this coffee shop."
"That's exciting." Lillianna's smile deepens, warmth flooding her features. "Starting your own practice. That takes guts."
And a surprise inheritance. But untangling my feelings toward my mom is too complicated for a coffee shop conversation.
"Or stupidity," I say with a smile.
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
“And I’d agree.” I point to the barista. “Want me to grab you two something?"
"I'll get it," Rosalia says. "Lillianna?"
"Caramel latte, extra shot."
"You know what? Same," Rosalia says with a laugh. "It's that kind of day."
While Rosalia heads to the counter, Lillianna leans back in her chair, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
She glances at Madison. "What about you? Are you getting nervous about starting high school, or excited?"
“Nervous,” Madison admits. “I hope Tracy is in some of my classes.”
“My first day was terrifying,” Lillianna says with feeling. “I’d gone to a tiny all-girls private school until high school. Then, suddenly, I’m thrown into an enormous school full of boys."
“Did you like it?”
Lillianna laughs. “I was a teenager. Of course I liked it. Take it from me, stay away from boys. They’ll break your heart.”
Rosalia returns with the coffee, and I pick up mine. “Cheers to that.”
Lillianna clinks her mug with mine.
For a few minutes we catch up on what’s been going on with our week and other small talk, like the cooler nights and the new restaurant that opened downtown. Lillianna tells us about her newest student, a cute little boy from France who barely speaks English but loves picture books.
It's nice. Normal. The kind of conversation that doesn't require solving anything. But I can see it in Lillianna's eyes. The distraction that keeps pulling her away from the moment. The way her hand tightens around her cup.
I’m on the fence about prying when Madison asks, "Is everything okay? With you guys?"
Lillianna and Rosalia exchange a glance. Lillianna lets out a breath. "Honestly? Not really. There’s a board meeting on Thursday.”
“And why is that bad?” I ask.
“Warren is trying to remove Thorne from the company.”
"Shit," I blurt. My stomach drops. Whatever anger I still carry toward Thorne, I don't want this for him.
"Yeah." Lillianna takes a sip of her latte. "Pretty much."
"Who's Warren?" Madison asks.
“He’s a shareholder at Blackstone. He’s always had it out for Thorne, and with all that’s going on, he sees his chance for a power grab.”
“What a dick," Madison spat.
"Madison!” I whisper-shout, even though I agree.
"No, she's right. It is bullshit. But the vote will be close."
"How close?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know.
“Close,” Lillianna says quietly. She looks at her coffee, then at me. "I hate that my brothers are on opposite sides. I'm stuck in the middle, hoping they can find their way back to each other."
"Do you have any idea how Sebastian will vote?" I ask Rosalia.
She takes a sip of her coffee. "I don't know how my husband will vote.” Setting her mug on the table, she looks out the window.
"I try to stay out of it. Thorne and I didn't exactly meet under the best circumstances, but.
.." she pauses. "He did try to make things right in the end. That counts for something."
Thorne's confessions echo back. What he did to Sebastian's first marriage. To Rosalia. Exiled himself to Canada. Some wounds don't heal just because you want them to.
“It does,” Lillianna agrees. "But he's not a pushover either. He'll vote with his conscience, not his feelings. The question is whether his conscience says Thorne deserves another chance or whether the company needs protecting from him."
I shake my head. “Family is complicated.”
"Understatement of the century." Lillianna laughs. She sighs deeply, like she's physically exhaling her worry. "Anyway. I didn't ask you here just to dump my family drama on you. I actually wanted to see how you two were doing. Check in."
"We're good," Madison says. "Ivy's going to have the coolest office."
"And you're sure about staying in Kentucky?" Lillianna asks me. "Starting over is hard."
"I'm sure." And I am. Whatever happens with Thorne, whatever I feel about him, this decision is the right one. "Madison and I, we're building something here. Something that's ours."
"You deserve that. I’m so happy for you both.” Lillianna reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I mean that."
"Even though I walked away from your brother?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
Lillianna doesn't let go of my hand. "Especially because you walked away when you needed to. That tells me you're someone who knows her worth." She squeezes once more before releasing. "Thorne's my brother and I love him, but that doesn't mean he gets a free pass. You did what you had to do."
“And if you need anything,” Rosalia says, “recommendations for office furniture, someone to proofread your website copy, whatever, we're here. For you both.”
"Thank you." I blink away my happy tears. I worried I’d lost them when things fell apart between Thorne and me.
We talk for another twenty minutes about lighter topics. Easy things.
When we stand to leave, the hugs are longer. Real.