Page 80 of One More Made Up Love Song
“You look…” My voice cracks, and I swallow, trying again. “Wow. You’re beautiful.”
She offers me a hesitant smile, and I reach forward, threading her fingers through mine.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I think so. Carina and I had a good cry this morning while we were getting our toes done, then we imagined allthe things Daphne would have to say about her sister fake-dating a popstar and walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. It was surprisingly cathartic.”
I lift my eyebrows. “What’s the verdict? Would she have approved?”
“Of what we’re doing?” Ivy says. “Absolutely not. But she would have loved you anyway.”
“I’m sure I would have loved her too.”
She drops my hand and lifts her wrist, showing off a red bracelet just like mine. “I see that Annie gave you your gift.”
“Look at that. We match.”
“I helped her make them this afternoon,” she says. “I hope you like red.”
“I love red,” I say. “Red is perfect.”
She’s perfect.
“Cars are here,” Wayne says from the doorway.
“And they already picked up Leo?” Ivy asks, and Wayne nods.
“He’s in the car and waiting,” he says.
“Good,” Ivy says. “Then we’re right on schedule.”
I wrap an arm around her back and guide her toward the door. “Stop working,” I say under my breath.
“Not until you hire my replacement,” she says, and a knot tightens in the pit of my stomach.
It’s still months away, but hiring Ivy’s replacement is thelastthing I want to do—and not because she’s so good at her job. I push the thought out of my mind and force myself to be present, to focus on the night ahead.
Ivy and I climb into the SUV with Leo, while Wayne slides into the front seat, then Laney, Adam, and Jace get into the second car idling behind us.
Ivy is quiet as we drive over to the theater, but halfwaythere, she reaches over and laces her fingers through mine, giving my hand an almost painful squeeze.
I lean toward her. “Did I tell you about the windmill I ran into the other day?”
She looks at me, brows drawn in confusion. “What?”
I nod. “Yeah. Looked right at me and said, ‘I’m a big fan.’”
“Oh, that’s bad,” Leo says from the other side of Ivy, but it makes her smile, so I have zero regrets.
“Tell me another one,” she says, her voice soft, her hand still gripping mine.
“Okay. How does an elephant hide in a cherry tree?”
“How?” she says.
“It paints its toenails red. Have you ever seen an elephant in a cherry tree?”
She chuckles. “Nope.”
