Page 64 of Tender Temptation

I’m misinterpreting her kindness for chemistry. “No. It’s best to leave the past in the past.”

Seconds then minutes tick by with us staring at each other. Searching for…I dunno. Hope?

“I’ve got to get back.” Abruptly, Ivy starts the car and we drive the rest of the way to the jobsite in silence.

A missed moment of reconnection. Or, a bittersweet closure.

Seeing her again brought back all the feelings I thought I’d buried.

I’ve said what I wanted to say, there’s nothing left.

It’s done.

twenty-nine

Ivy

Two Weeks Later

Well, I’m finally twenty-onetoday.

This year, my parents have gone all out. We’re in the Palisade Orchid Room, a stunning old-school Seattle venue with handblown artisan glass chandeliers and sweeping views of the downtown skyline, Mt. Rainier, Bainbridge Island, and the Olympic Mountains.

Huge floral arrangements adorn the room and the smell of fresh lilies mingles with the sea breeze wafting up from the open deck area. The long buffet table featuresa feast of Northwest specialties, including towers of King crab legs, oysters, and prawns. In the corner, there’s even a social media station where my name and age are displayed in big lighted letters, surrounded by balloons.

I bet there’s easily a hundred guests in attendance ranging from family friends, classmates from boarding school, and my BFFs from Italy—Elena, Javier, and Lucia. There’s quite a few people from Bright Shipping too.

Despite the festive atmosphere, I’m not used to this much attention. My folks insisted on throwing a big party to make up for all the years they didn’t acknowledge me. I hope turning my birthday back into a joyful occasion rather than a tragic memory of how we lost Forrest helps them heal.

I get why they’re doing this—but I’ve moved past needing their validation. I took charge of my own destiny three years ago. The day I met Cillian.

God.Cillian.

Since our intense conversation on the drive back from Tacoma, Cillian’s kept a polite distance. Our easy banter has been replaced by awkward formality. Every word we exchanged that day plays on a loop in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

I’m blown away by Cillian’s confession of regretting his behavior the morning we broke up. But the revelation of hisdownward spiral into alcoholism—because of the demise of our relationship—has left me completely reeling.

I’d always figured he’d moved on. Knowing how much he suffered breaks my heart all over again. We took two wildly different paths to forget each other. Both spectacular failures it seems. We’re embedded in each other’s souls.

And yet, despite our lingering feelings for each other, both of our walls remain impossibly high. I doubt either of us have the fortitude to scale them again. The risk of failure is too devastating to contemplate.

Speaking of which, my eyes are drawn across the room where Cillian chats with his parents, Rory and Maureen. When he introduced me earlier, he barely looked me in the eye. They were both lovely, and charmed me with their to-die-for Irish brogue.

My God, will I ever get over him? I have no idea what to do. He agreed with me—there is no future for us. Why am I faced with such a huge undercurrent of unresolved emotions? He’s all I think about.

I want him. Crave him. Ache for him.

“Happy Birthday, Ivy!” Lucia runs toward me. “You look amazing.”

“Grazie, amica mia.” I twirl in my knee-length turquoise dress that perfectly matches my eyes. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Pierlo and Matteo join us and Pierlo hands me a beautifully wrapped gift. “Buon compleanno, Ivy!”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Matteo grins. “It’s from both of us.”

It’s heavy and I tear the wrapping off to reveal a striking glass sculpture in silvery tones, full of graceful movement and light. “Grazie mille. It’s gorgeous”

Lucia looks around the room. “This place is incredible. Your parents really know how to throw a party.”

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