Page 42 of Writing On The Wall

I lower the teabags into our cups, and when I look up, Ember’s squinting at me.

“Okayyyy. And how’s Toby?”

“Toby’s great.” I reply honestly, because he is. He’s an incredibly reliable friend—one I can trust not to leave me.

And while I’m truly happy that things are happening for Ethan, Facetiming with him from a different city only served to highlight his transient soul. That’s a really fun trait, but it’s also one of the biggest reasons I can’t allow myself to get too close to him. I’ve had too much experience with people letting me down or leaving, and that’s exactly what I foresee happening once I get attached to Ethan and his overprotective grumpiness.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating him. I did not see that happening between you two.” Ember walks to the sofa with her tea.

I shrug and fake a smile. And as if Ethan’s giant ego couldsense I’ve been thinking about him, a text comes through on my phone.

Ethan

Still got those brownies waiting for me?

No. Because I’m a chronic people pleaser, I gave yesterday’s batch to Carl. I was planning to bake a fresh batch for Ethan in Ember’s oven.

I respond with a GIF of Jim Halpert making an indecisive face.

Ethan

Fine. but you created an expectation. I take my desserts very seriously.

Why is this flirty side of him bringing a goofy smile to my lips?

We just had this conversation, Ivy.

I respond with another GIF of a thumbs up. I’m usually very chatty over text, even though I get a little anxious about autocorrect not catching all my spelling errors. But the opportunity to test the extent of Ethan’s patience has me holding back. I want to see if he’ll work for it.

“Oh my gosh.” Ember’s voice brings me back. “Are you texting Toby right now? Look at your face! You look just like I did a few months ago, sitting on this couch and texting Colton while you made fun of my love eyes.”

“Loveeyes? I don’tlovehim!” I blurt out, forgetting for a second that she’s referring to Toby and not Ethan.

“Defensive much?” She eyes me suspiciously over the rim of her mug. I hate lying to my best friend. But this Toby thing is supposed to appear casual. No one can get too invested, friends included. If I were to tell Ember the truth, I’d open up a whole can of worms and be forced to tell her about everything else,including lying to Gran to get the house, Ross’s money troubles, and my being homeless. But she doesn’t need more stress. The woman gets enough of that from her mother.

I’ll come clean after her wedding.

I manage to redirect the conversation to her wedding plans—an easy distraction. Planning my best friend’s special day is one of my greatest delights. But I’m admittedly piling more tasks onto my growing to-do lists—both personal and professional.

Just keep that lid on tight, Ivy June.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IVY

I stretch out over my mattress, enjoying the chance to wake up without a morning alarm. Don’t let anyone ever tell you teachers aren’t living for the next school break. I love teaching, and I adore my class. But knowing there’s a break around the corner is like food for my malnourished sanity. Even though I usually end up volunteering and putting in extra hours at school anyway, the mental break does wonders.

And I have six moregloriousdays of spring break ahead of me. My only project is coordinating the recital. Well, that and renovating an entire house. Along with my maid of honor duties…and keeping Ross out of trouble. Dang. I guess that’s still a lot to squeeze into six days, but it’s never stopped me before.

I fix myself a cup of coffee, making sure to avoid the lingering debris from my unfortunate cabinet demo attempts. Dust and paint flakes coat every surface, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying the silence while I sit at the kitchen table. After a while, I walk lazily into the living room and peek out thewindow before flopping down onto the sofa. I attempt to ignore the laptop resting beside me, but I’ve been feeling the urge to try again.

Just a quick little look.

I navigate to the University of St. Augustine for Health Sciences website, biting my lip as my heart pounds in my chest. I’ve started filling out the form to request more information at least a dozen times by now, but the memories of my struggle to complete my teaching degree keep me from following through every time. All of the stress and extra hours I put in just to get through college had taken a toll on my health, and the thought of going through that again sets off a blaring alarm in my mind.

You can’t do that again.

“Ugh!” I push the computer away, deciding to do laundry instead. But a loud knock at the door stops me from loading clothes into the washer. I pause, wondering who would be at my door at 9 AM on a Tuesday. Ethan has a key—which feels way toocohabitatey—and he never knocks. His heavy footsteps over the front porch usually announce his presence before his voice does.

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