Page 130 of Head Over Heels

I had a fairly good sense of direction on their property now, and I followed the driveway toward the road, then wound through the trees on our way back. Neville was a meandering companion, darting toward sticks and rocks, occasionally meowing at my feet until I picked him up and carried him for a while.

By the time we got back to my place, my heart thrummed and my chest warmed with the last half a mile of a faster pace.

I checked my phone but had nothing else from Cameron.

I spent some time on my computer, filtering through real estate listings in the area, simply because I couldn’t help myself. I bookmarked a few, including a killer piece of land adjacent to the downtown area. I checked my email, and when there was nothing from my dad, I found myself getting restless with the lack of information about his visit.

Between him and Cameron’s family, reality was about to intrude on our little non-labeled sex bubble, and I did not do very well when things were so unclear.

If his family was games and eating and laughing, then my dad’s visit would be financial outlooks, profit projections, and head trips.

My heart hurt when I thought about Tim sitting on that front porch, the look on his face when he talked about the way he loved his kids.

No. It didn’t just hurt.

It was a deep, bone-piercing ache.

I pressed a hand against my chest, hoping I could make it stop. When it didn’t, I knew I needed some sort of action, so I wasn’t just sitting there like a wet mop.

I called my dad’s cell phone, and he didn’t pick up.

Without pause, I hung up and called his office’s direct line. He didn’t pick up there either. When I rang through to his assistant, she answered in her usual clipped tones.

“It’s Ivy,” I told her.

“He’s unavailable,” she answered.

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask if he was or wasn’t.”

Awkward silence ticked across the phone.

She cleared her throat. “What can I do for you, Miss Lynch?”

“What’s his itinerary for his Portland visit tomorrow? I know he’s got a morning meeting downtown, but I’d like to know when I can expect him here.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I don’t believe he’ll be making his way to Sisters. His plans changed.”

My chest went cold, and I forced a swallow past the brick suddenly lodged in my throat.

“What do you mean? He told me he’d come so he could see my progress.”

“Maybe emailing him would be best, Ivy.”

It was the careful way she answered that had the ache in my chest growing. It had long, curling, ghost-like fingers, spreading through my lungs, down my arms, and into my suddenly cold hands.

I stood from the couch and paced the room. I was so sick of begging for scraps of his attention. I heard Cameron’s voice in my head.

It shouldn’t be like that, Ivy.

It shouldn’t be like this.

“I know he’s in that office,” I snapped. “You tell him to quit being a coward and talk to me, or I’m on the next flight out to Seattle.”

“Ivy, if you?—”

“No, you tell him to talk to me right now. I deserve five minutes, don’t I? Because I promise, if I have to drag my ass across state lines to get his attention, he will not like it very much.”

She sighed. “Give me a moment.”

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