Page 78 of One More Made Up Love Song
We at least have the movie premiere tonight, so we’ll be together for that. I have all kinds of feelings about the event. I’m excited to see Ivy in the dress she picked out, but I’m also nervous about her getting through the night without too much emotional trauma.
It means a lot that she’s doing this for me. That she’s tackling something personal just to help me, and she’s doing so in an incredibly public way.
My relationship history is woefully underdeveloped, but every woman I’ve dated has also been a celebrity. Walking the red carpet would just be another day at work for any of them. But the stakes feel a lot higher with Ivy. Because she’s Ivy, obviously, but because she also has so much more to lose by being with me.
Either way, I don’t think I can even suggest the possibility when I’m not sure it’s also whatshewants.
“You’re up early.”
I lift my head to see Ivy at the foot of the stairs, still in pajamas, her hair pulled back from her face. She looks beautiful, fresh-faced and well-rested, and I’m suddenly grateful she’s taken some time off. We rarely get a full night’s sleep when we’re on the road.
I run a hand through my hair, wishing I’d at least looked in the mirror before stumbling into my kitchen for coffee. “Hey.”
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says as she moves into the kitchen and pulls a mug out of the cabinet. “Seems like we keep missing each other.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Yesterday was a long day at the studio.”
Ivy moves to the espresso machine at the end of the counter. It’s fancy and expensive, and I still haven’t figured out how to use it, but Ivy has a cappuccino every morning we’re home, so I can’t regret the purchase.
“How has it been?” she asks. “Are you making good progress?”
“Surprisingly good,” I say. “We’re working on several new songs, and I really like them all.”
“I’m sure you’re so relieved,” she says. “Any idea what changed?”
I hold her gaze.
I changed. We kissed outside Margot’s beach house, and something turned over inside my brain. I’d been stuck, mired in the monotony of touring and traveling, uncertain that I was even living a life I still wanted, and then we kissed and suddenly, there was something else to think about. Something else tofeel.
But I’m not sure I can say that yet. Not when I suspect she spent the last day and a half avoiding me.
I shrug my shoulders. “I know better than to question when or why inspiration strikes.” It’s not the full truth, but it isn’t a lie either, so that’s good enough for now. “How’s your time with Carina been?”
Ivy blows on her cappuccino, holding the mug close to her face. “Really good. Better than I expected it to be.”
“So a vacation with Margot was temporary insanity?”
She shrugs. “Or a desperate plea to her family to stop treating her like she’s made out of porcelain. Mom and I both probably need to let her live her life without so much hovering and worrying.”
“I’m sure that’s easier said than done.”
“Do you ever worry about your brother?” she asks, and I immediately scoff.
“No. I really don’t.”
“Why not? He’s younger than you, right?”
“Technically, yes. But he’s the oldest twenty-five-year-old I’ve ever met. He doesn’t need anyone to worry about him.”
She takes a tentative sip of her drink. “Has he finished his PhD yet?”
“Next spring,” I say.
Then he’ll be Dr. Ridgefield just like my parents. A perfectly matched trio of doctorate degrees in mathematics. I couldn’t fit inlessif I tried.
“I’m sure your parents will be so proud,” she says, her voice dripping with a disdain that immediately makes me smile. Ivy is my parents’ worst critic, often grumbling about how little they seem to care about everything I’ve accomplished. I’m a little more forgiving. If I thought my parents had the capacity to express more enthusiasm, I might expectmore. But they’ve always been exactly how they are. I can’t do anything about that.
I chuckle at Ivy’s comment, but I don’t say anything else, and the silence quickly turns awkward.
