Page 74 of Sawyer

“Wait. What? You did? But your dad cut you off. How?”

“Clark was so mad when he broke up with me,” she says, “that when I offered to send my engagement ring back to him, he said it was worthless and told me to throw it in the trash.” She laughs softly. “Suffice it to say that Joel at Aurora Jewelers disagreed with Clark. It wasn’t worthless at all, and he was happy to take ‘such a lovely diamond’ off my hands. AndIwas happy to fill up Aunt P.’s credit account at the hospital in Anchorage so that her last treatment would be covered.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. I put all the ring money in the account so that if my father withdrew his funding, there’d still be enough to pay for Aunt P.’s last treatment.”

“That ring was the bain of my existence,” I tell her. “At least now I’ll be able to remember it without gagging.”

“I hated it,” she says. “It was too big. Too flashy. Too heavy. I thought of it as my little shackle.”

“Is that how you think of marriage?” I ask her.

“To the wrong person? Yes. Jail would be better. At least some sentences aren’t forever.”

Her words surprise me a little, though I remind myself that she’s only two weeks out of a bad relationship. Further, I make a mental note that, for Ivy, moving us slowly but surely toward a future together will serve me better than trying to rush into or force anything. Yes, I want to marry Ivy Caswell someday, but we’re young. We have plenty of time.

“So, my father won’t get the legislation he wants from the Rupert family,” she says, “but my aunt’s cancer will go into remission. Win-win as far as I’m concerned.”

We pull into the campground and park in front of my cabin, and I cut the engine, unbuckle us both, and pull her into my arms, kissing her soundly.

“Your aunt and uncle are lucky to have you,” I tell her.

“No,” she says. “It’s the other way around. I don’t know who I’d be today without them.”

“Then thank god for Coach and Mrs. C.,” I say, kissing her again.

***

Ivy has to be at work at eight-thirty, so after wake-up sex, she takes a shower. I jump in right after her, bathing quickly so we can share a cup of coffee on the porch before I drive her back to town. But when I come out of the bathroom, she’s not dressed yet. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, frowning at her phone.

No, wait.Atmyphone.

When she looks up at me, her face is a mixture of confusion and anger. She turns my phone around to show me a photo of Clark Rupert kissing another woman in a Juneau bar. Sliding her finger rapidly, she shows me another, and another, and another.

“What the fuck it this?” she asks, her voice soft, but lethal.

“Why do you have my phone?”

“I was taking a pic of my boobs for you to find later,” she says. “Why do you have pictures of my fiancé with other women?”

“Ex-fiancé,” I remind her.

“Why, Sawyer?”

I sit down beside her, but she moves away from me, and it hurts when she does that. It scares me.

“Quinn has a buddy in Juneau who offered to—”

“Offered?” She nails me with her eyes. “Out of the clear blue sky?”

“Fine. Weaskedhim to keep an eye on Clark.”

“And take pictures of him cheating on me? When was this?”

“Quinn showed me the photos the night of the party at the Parsnip.”

“The night I kissed you.”

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