Page 68 of Play the Last Track
I rub the heel of my palm against my chest, trying desperately to soothe the ache. This man is going to kill me. Or, at the very least, make me let him in.
I blink away the tears I feel forming and shake my head. I’m not going to cry; that would be ridiculous. He’s a man, doing the bare minimum to impress me. Getting me flowers? Bare minimum. Filling the cupboard with all my favorite things? Bare minimum.
I’ve almost convinced myself of this fact when the doorbell rings. Who the hell?
I head down the hallway, unlock the door, and pull it open.
“Oh my god, Ivy? What are you doing here?” There’s a bag over her shoulder and another in her hand, but it’s definitely my best friend. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she rushes inside, dropping both bags and throwing her arms around me in a hug.
“Flynn called. Said you weren’t feeling the best and we should have a sleepover,” she squeals excitedly into my ear. I go still, and she pulls back. “Was that wrong? What’s happened?”
She stares at me. I stare at her. The longer I look at her, I realize that inviting my best friend over to stay with me while he’s gone, knowing I would need her, isn’t the bare minimum.
Flynn fucking Reed has raised the goddamn bar.
Oh god. Now I’m going to cry.
The tears fall over my cheeks, and Ivy immediately snaps into action. She shuts the door, locking it behind her, and picks up both her bags in one hand and takes one of mine in the other. She leads me back to the living room, where she dumps the bags and pulls me onto the couch.
“You never cry,” she says.
“I know. I hate this.” I swipe desperately under my eyes, trying to catch the tears as they fall. My face is hot and sticky. I pull the sleeve of the hoodie I’m wearing over my hand and wipe my eyes.
“What happened? Did you and Flynn have a fight? Did he call me because he’s trying to get back in your good graces?” I shake my head and try to calm my breathing. After a minute of counting my ins and outs, the tears slow.
“We didn’t have a fight.” I shake my head. “A few nights ago, Grant showed up at the bar. He was drunk. He said a bunch of stuff to the staff, threw some glasses around, but refused to leave unless I came.”
“You weren’t already there?”
“No, Flynn and I were in the city at that new fancy steakhouse.”
“You were? Like on a date?” Her eyes light up, and she sits on her knees. “Like a real date or a fake date?”
I give her a watery laugh and smile. “Honestly, Ives. I have no idea what’s real and what’s fake anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t … I don’t think it’s fake anymore.” She squeals again, and I can’t help but smile. “Neither of us will say it aloud. I think we’re both scared it’ll ruin it.”
“Like the bubble will burst.” She nods, knowingly. “So, what happened when you turned up at the bar?” I dive into theplay-by-play, telling Ivy everything that happened. When I come to the end, I take a deep breath. She’s going to murder me for keeping this from her for so long. We’ve never really kept secrets, not since we met on the first day of college as roommates.
“A few months ago, when Grant and I last broke up and I moved all my stuff out overnight…” She nods, remembering the time. “I left so quickly because he slapped me across the face. Gave me a black eye and split my lip on his ring.”
Ivy’s face falls. “He what?!”
“It was a long time ago. I went to see someone after it happened to talk it out—”
“Katie.” I look up at my best friend. Heartbreak is written all over her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I—” I shrug. “I think I was embarrassed.”
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.” Ivy leans over and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I hug her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Really, I am.” Ivy sits back on her heels and gives me a disbelieving look. “Promise. I went to see a counselor afterwards, and we talked about it, and I was going to tell you, but you got engaged, and I honestly just wanted to move on.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m sure.”
