Page 39 of One More Made Up Love Song
Understanding finally clicks in my brain. If I’m kissing someone else, a photo of Margot and me in the same frame won’t matter nearly as much.
I look back at Margot, who is closing in quickly. She lifts her hands to her bikini top, adjusting the straps as she walks.
Ivy’s right. This is the only move I’ve got.
So I lift my hands to my assistant’s face and press my lips to hers.
It’s a quick kiss—it has to be, because the gesture needs to seem like something we’ve done a million times before. Like we’retogether.Like I’m kissing her because I was worried she was taking so long, and now I’m happy to see her. Like the only reason I came to Margot’s beach house was to pick up my very serious girlfriend’s sister.
But I don’t miss the zing of electricity that passes through me when my lips touch hers. All this talk of shifting feelings, all the moments of questioning—they crystalize into tangible certainty in a matter of seconds.
I like kissing Ivy Conway.
I lean forward, pressing another quick kiss to Ivy’s jawjust beside her ear. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I joke. “Also thank you for saving me.”
I kiss Ivy one more time, two quick pecks, then we turn to face Margot. Ivy slips an arm around my waist, tucking herself into my side like a real girlfriend might.
“Hey, Margot,” I say as I turn to face her. “Thanks for hosting Carina. I’m sure she had a great time.”
Margot presses her lips together, not even trying to hide her frustration. “No problem,” she says dryly.
Ivy lifts her chin and looks at me. “I’m ready to go, babe.”
We reallydoneed to get out of here. The quicker the better.
“I’m driving,” Wayne says, and Ivy doesn’t argue. She just climbs into the backseat next to her sister without another word.
Seconds later, we’re pulling down the driveway toward the security gate, Margot a disappearing figure in the rearview mirror.
I finally breathe out a sigh as I turn in my seat so I can look at Ivy. “That was amazing thinking on your part,” I say, but something feels off about her body language. She looks dazed, maybe a little frustrated? It’s hard to tell.
As happy as I was to kiss Ivy and thwart Margot’s attempts to co-op the moment for a photo, the reality is, I wouldn’t have thought to do it had Ivy not suggested it. Once she did, agreeing seemed like a clear and obvious choice. Having the world think I’m in a relationship with Ivy is worlds better than having them think I’m in a relationship with Margot.
But now I’m beginning to question my judgment.
Does Ivy have regrets? Was it so bad of a kiss that she wishes she’d never suggested it?
Carina lets out a low moan, and Ivy reaches for her, shifting her sister so her head is resting in Ivy’s lap. Ivy runs a hand over Carina’s hair, but the movement is mechanical, her gaze locked on the window as the California landscape slides by.
Several moments pass before Ivy says, “You should probably reach out to Sloane. She’ll want to call Kat so she can come up with a plan before the photos of us are released.”
“Ifthey’re released,” I say. “Margot might persuade the guy not to sell them. He was there for her, after all. It doesn’t really serve her purposes for the world to know we’re together.”
“Wearen’ttogether,” Ivy says, her words clipped.
“No, I know,” I quickly correct. “Just—if the photos are released, the world willbelievewe are. I know it’s not the same thing.”
“Freddie, no paparazzi is going to ignore an opportunity to sell photos ofyoukissing someone. Not for Margot. Her influence doesn’t come close to competing with yours.”
I sigh and sink into my seat, knowing that Ivy is right.
“The reality is,” she continues, “we don’t know what Margot is going to do or what the photographer will do. But you need to brace yourself for any possibility, and that means your team needs to know what happened.”
It’s not lost on me that even with her drunk sister asleep in her lap, Ivy is still calm. Still collected. Still thinking about what’s best forme.That’s why she asked me to kiss her in the first place. She was looking out formyimage.Myreputation.
I’m not sure I deserve that kind of loyalty.
And I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’ve knocked over the first domino in a cascade of consequences I can’t yet see.
