Page 61 of One More Made Up Love Song
When she tries to pull away, Kat keeps her hand, her gaze moving over Ivy like she’s assessing her. I instantly feel defensive, but then Kat says, “I forgot how adorable you are in person. The fans are going to eat you up.”
Ivy tugs her hand back and presses it into her lap. “Um, I’m not sure what that means.”
Kat shrugs. “Some women are beautiful in a way that makes other women hate them. Others are beautiful in a way that makes everyone want to be their best friend. You’re the second one.” She reaches for the iPad. “Should we get down to business?”
I don’t fully understand Kat’s logic about beauty, but I dounderstand what she means about everyone wanting to be Ivy’s best friend.
She just has that effect on people. She is incredibly competent, which could be an intimidating quality in some people, but Ivy is so good at taking care of everything, ofeveryone,she seems to have the opposite effect. She puts people at ease because they know if she’s around, everything is probably going to be okay.
At least that’s what being around her is like for me.
I do my best to focus on what Kat is saying. But everything she’s telling me is stuff I already know.
Voltage Records is throwing a party in a few days, and I’m expected to make an appearance. That was already on the schedule. But now, Ivy will attend with me.
A few days after that, I have to attend a movie premiere, since one of the Midnight Rush songs we released in conjunction with our reunion concert last year is being used in the movie. Luckily, the premiere isalsoin Nashville. The movie is about a burned-out country music star and his son, so I guess the marketing team thought Nashville made more sense than New York or LA. Better for me, since I’m determined to travel as little as possible over the next two months.
Since the rest of the band will be in attendance at the premiere, I assumed I’d walk the red carpet with them.
Now, I’ll walk it with Ivy instead.
“Wait,” she says from beside me. “The movie premiere. Will that be black tie?”
Sloane lifts her eyebrows. “They usually are. Will that be a problem?”
Ivy doesn’t immediately answer, and I look over at her, my gaze narrowing as I take her in.
Her eyes are cast down, her hands gripping her armrestslike they’re anchoring her to the earth. Or, at least to the bottom of the plane since we’re thirty thousand feet in the air.
“Ivy doesn’t really do fancy dresses,” I answer for her, but based on her current body language, I’m wondering if there’s more going on right now.
Ivy’s had multiple opportunities to attend red carpet events with me—not as my date, but as my assistant. But even assistants dress up for the big events, enjoying the atmosphere even if they aren’t actually in the limelight. But Ivy has always found a reasonnotto attend, claiming she’s never been one for black-tie events.
I’ve never pushed her on it, but I’m wondering if I should have because right now, there’s clearly something wrong, and I don’t like not knowing what it is.
“What do you mean she doesn’tdothem?” Kat asks. “You wouldn’t have to pick anything out, if that matters. I’m sure we can hire a stylist who would help you look amazing.”
Ivy licks her lips. “It’s not that I…” Her words falter, then drop off completely, and we all wait, but she doesn’t pick them up again. She just sits there.
I nudge her knee with mine. “Hey. You know you don’t have to do any of this. If you don’t want to go to the movie premiere, you don’t have to go.”
She gives her head a little shake. “But Idowant to go. I just don’t know if Icango.”
“I don’t understand,” Sloane says to Kat, her voice low, but not low enough that the rest of us can’t hear.
I stand from my seat and offer a hand to Ivy. “Come here for a minute.”
She slips her hand into mine and lets me tug her to her feet and toward the back of the plane.
Carina looks up as we walk past, eyes fixed on Ivy’s face, and she makes a move to stand, but I motion her down, giving my head a quick shake.
Maybe I should let Carina handle this. But for whatever reason, I want to be the one who makes Ivy feel better right now.
We pass the bathroom and reach a second lounge area with a few recliners that are great for sleeping on longer flights. I turn and pull a curtain closed behind us, separating us from everyone else.
“Hey,” I say, finally turning to face Ivy. I put my hands on her shoulders, letting them slide down to her arms where I give her a quick squeeze. “Talk to me. What are you feeling right now?”
She lifts a hand to her forehead, using it to shield her face. “It’s stupid,” she finally says.
