Meant for Me

Take Me Now - 2

by

Faith Sullivan

Chapter One

Ivy

My boyfriend is so freakin’ hot.

I press my nose against the glass, peering out as he stops to take a break from cutting the grass around the garden center. It’s sweltering outside and he’s worked up quite a sweat pushing the lawn mower up and down the property. As a result of his labor, his white t-shirt is clinging to his chest in all the right places. I sigh happily, taking him in.

He has no clue that I’m watching as he picks up a water bottle and pours it over his head, forming a trail that trickles down the length of his body. I clutch the windowsill as I feel that all too familiar twinge between my legs. Being pregnant, my hormones are on fire and it doesn’t take much to get me going. So it’s no wonder a moan escapes my lips when he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he casually begins to strip in front of me.

My cheeks burn as he lifts his arms over his head, removing his shirt, elongating every inch of his defined abs. My eyes follow his v-shaped pelvic muscle as it dips suggestively below his belt buckle. My breathing becomes heavy as he stretches, causing his jeans to ride even lower on his hips. My pulse skyrockets as he proceeds to wring the water out of his shirt, flexing his glistening biceps against the rays of the setting sun.

I squirm against the window, forcing my knees together. My movement catches his attention and he glances up, meeting my gaze. A sexy grin slowly spreads across his face when he realizes the effect he’s having on me. My mouth is open. I’m literally panting for him. He shakes his head and chuckles softly. My heart clenches at how adorable he looks.

He’s not the kind of guy who flaunts his body, but for me it seems like he enjoys being on display. He runs his hands through his damp hair, tousling it before grabbing another bottle of water. He winks at me, tilting back his head and taking a long swig. He closes his eyes, his lips wrapped around the bottle, teasing me. He smiles when he’s done, beckoning me with his finger.

I don’t hesitate for a moment. I gladly leave the confines of his air-conditioned office and rush outside. He’s waiting, his eyes smoldering. He stands with his hands on his hips, watching as I approach. It’s unseasonably mild for October, and I step out of my clogs as I draw nearer to him. His gaze never leaves my face. It only intensifies, causing me to blush even more.

I get close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, but I don’t speak. Instead, I run my hands across the wide breadth of his shoulders and down his heaving chest. My touch must be driving him wild because I can feel his heart thudding beneath my fingertips. His skin is so smooth and firm. He’s a man’s man who’d never dream of waxing his upper body, and a trail of soft, fine hair guides me to his belly button and beyond.

“How can I expect to get anything done around here with you touching me like that?” Eric asks, his voice all husky as I find the zipper of his jeans.

“Well, you shouldn’t be tempting me by getting naked in front of the window,” I whisper seductively as he grabs my wrist, preventing me from lowering his zipper and undressing him any further.

With my free hand, I start to remove my dress when he growls, “I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.” He scans the horizon for any approaching vehicles, but there are none to be found. “No one’s ever going to hear what you sound like when you come. Only me.”

He lifts me in his arms, and I’m flush against his chest. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me toward the greenhouse. I don’t know if Ben left for the day. He’s the quarterback from Glendale High who’s been working here part-time. If he’s still around, he’s about to get an earful. According to Eric, I can get pretty loud.

Eric pushes the door open with his back, his lips never leaving mine. The steaminess of the enclosed space is like a sauna. Eric’s skin feels slick across mine, and I’m stifling with this sundress on. I want it off. Wriggling in his embrace, I attempt to lower one of the straps.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eric chides me. “That’s my job.” He nuzzles the dainty strap with his nose until it falls from my shoulder. I wince when he rakes his stubbled chin across my chest. “What’s wrong?” he asks, raising his head, the picture of concern.

“My breasts are still sensitive, but don’t stop. Trust me, what you’re doing feels so good,” I cry, groaning as he removes the other strap before massaging each nipple with his tongue. I tighten my legs around him and throw back my head, straining against him. He’s still holding me up. Sometimes I forget how strong he is.

“They were always beautiful, but now they’re spectacular,” he proclaims, fondling their newfound fullness. “I can’t wait to see what your boobs look like after you have the baby.”

But I barely hear him. I’m too caught up in what he’s doing to me, lost in the sensations flooding through my body. I’m horny all the time now, and on muggy days like this, I don’t want to be constricted by a stupid bra. I like giving him easy access so he can relieve my aching breasts whenever he can.

We’ve been so naughty lately, but I can’t complain. He’s always ready to oblige my needs no matter where we are—on the counter next to the cash register, in the field he’s planting out back, in the bed of his truck on the side of the road.

One of these days we’re going to get caught, and then everyone in town will have even more to gossip about, considering how they all still hate me for ‘stealing’ Eric away from Lauren. Yeah, I’m the young slut who threw herself between the perfect couple. And to top it off, I got myself knocked up in the process. How scandalous is that?

Well, that’s Lauren’s version of events anyway, and sadly it’s the one most people tend to believe. I don’t have enough influence around here to get them to buy my side of the story. College is on hold, and in the meantime, I have nowhere else to go. I’m barefoot and pregnant, and I’m shacking up with everyone’s favorite grieving bachelor. Yep, that’s me—the young harlot who’s taking advantage of a poor guy who’s down on his luck. Ah, the hypocrisy.

But even these unbidden thoughts aren’t enough to quench the desire building inside me. My body has a mind of its own—all it wants is sex, sex, and more sex. I can’t get enough. And after two years of self-imposed celibacy, Eric is certainly making up for lost time. I have to admit that he’s always up for the challenge, determined to keep me satisfied. It only makes me crave him more.

“Eric, please…” I writhe, biting my lip. “I need you.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, his eyes blazing. He lifts his head from between my breasts and hikes up my dress, cupping my ass with his callused hands. At first, I wasn’t used to the roughness of his touch, but now I wouldn’t have him any other way. He works hard for a living, and when it comes to pleasuring me, I relish in knowing just how much my man strives to provide for me. For the first time in my life, I feel secure.

He strides over to the blanket already set up in the back among the hanging rose bushes. The seclusion of the greenhouse is one of our favorite rendezvous spots. We’ve made love countless times in here, even with customers rustling around outside. I think the thrill excites us both.

Placing me down on the soft flannel, he hooks his thumbs through the elastic band of my hot pink thong, yanking it down. He gets a kick out of the fact that I’m still wearing thongs for his amusement, even though my belly is beginning to bulge. He loves how I’m trying to maintain an element of sexiness during my pregnancy.

He unzips the side of my sundress, bunching it in his fingers as he lowers it over my hips, tossing it over his shoulder. I’m completely naked now, and the lush, humid air of the greenhouse caresses my skin. I stretch out, raising my hands above my head, sighing in contentment, letting him take in my every move. I close my eyes as his breathing increases.

“You are like a fucking goddess,” he groans, running a hand down the length of my body. I squirm beneath his touch, but he doesn’t stop. He’s driving me insane, so it’s about time I return the favor.

Shoving his hand away from me, I spread my legs before him. He gulps, swallowing hard as I bring my hand down, sliding it between my breasts before skimming my navel. Continuing my journey of self-discovery, I cup my mound and jerk against the blanket, delighting in the fact that he’s watching me touch myself.

“Ivy…” He moans, a dangerous tremor in his voice.

Instead, I pick up the pace. I feel my orgasm begin to build under his reproachful stare. I really have turned into quite a naughty girl.

“You are not going to deny me this,” he whispers fervently. In a flash, he is on his feet, clinking the metal of his belt buckle when he can’t get it open fast enough. A second later, I hear the whoosh of his zipper being lowered. He doesn’t even kick his jeans all the way off before springing his erection free from his boxers. In an instant, he’s back on his knees before me, gently tugging my elbow, urging me to stop what I’m doing and grant him access.

But I’m having too much fun toying with him. I’m going to make him earn it. Keeping a steady, self-satisfying rhythm going with my hand, I guide my foot onto his chest, pushing him back. Tracing his abdominal muscles with my toe, I feel him shudder beneath me. His hand is on my ankle, trying to pull it away, but I hold firm, pressing my foot even harder against his chest, my butt practically in the air.

Taking advantage of my vulnerable position, he grabs me under the knee, pulling my leg around his taut waist. Going in for the kill, he reaches for my other leg, cinching my ankles behind him. I’m helpless now as I feel his tip press against the back of my hand, blocking his entrance into me. Taunting him, I continue to pleasure myself.

Utterly frustrated, he buries his face against my neck, nipping and biting me with his teeth. I’ve never seen this feral side of him before as excitement courses through my veins. His erection is now straining against my hand as he rolls his hips, cursing under his breath. His hand is once again at my wrist, begging me to surrender to him.

Giving in, I let him pull my hand away, and he wastes no time in sliding into me. He lifts my arm in the air, interlocking his fingers with mine. His grip is strong as he dives deeper within me, never letting go. I cry out as I collapse against him, but he continues to hold my hand aloft as he pumps toward his climax, grunting with every beat.

I’m lost in a wave of complete bliss, but feeling his release inside me brings me back to earth for a moment. I love how we’re able to be with each other, skin to skin, no need for a condom—how a man and a woman are meant to enjoy each other.

I circle my heels against the small of his back, savoring how deep he is inside me, giving him a minute to catch his breath. We’re both drenched in sweat. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his nose buried in the crook of my neck. He’s so close; I can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against my skin.

My lips are swollen from his, and I smile when he turns his attention to my stomach, covering it in a fresh round of kisses. Our baby is inside me. A new chance at a future he never thought he’d have. My heart swells. I’m so lucky to have this man in my life.

I’m just about to tell him that when my phone chimes.

Eric picks up his head, startled, and looks at me. “Oh God, not again. Doesn’t he ever leave you alone?”

“I’m just glad he didn’t interrupt us sooner.” I feel a chill when Eric sits up, removing his body from mine. But I can’t pout for long when he bends to retrieve my phone from the pocket of my dress, his naked backside filling my vision.

We’ve gotten to the point where there are no secrets between us. We share pretty much everything, so I’m not surprised when he swipes his finger across the screen to read the text that disrupted our time together. I can tell he’s angry when his eyes darken as he scans the message. He tosses the phone onto the discarded heap of clothing without letting me read it.

“What did it say?” I prop myself up my elbows, meeting his troubled gaze. My hair falls forward onto my breasts, but I don’t even notice. The look on his face is killing me inside. He’s standing there, naked, in all his glory, but all I see is the fear in his eyes.

“Will says he needs you in L.A.” Eric crosses his arms, ready to lay down the law. “But don’t even think about it—because you’re not going.”

Chapter Two

Eric

I was afraid this was going to happen, and now it has. I knew Will Carter wouldn’t disappear from our lives so easily. There had to be a catch.

“Eric, he must’ve run into some complication he doesn’t know how to fix. We’ve been working together for months on this screenplay. I can’t turn my back on him now. We’re so close to finishing it.” Ivy looks at me with those puppy-dog eyes of hers, and I’m already starting to melt. But I can’t bear the thought of her traveling alone, especially in her condition. There’s no way she’s stepping foot on a plane without me.

But that’s the problem. I can’t leave the garden center. Not now. The Halloween season is a major moneymaker for Riverside Gardens. With a baby on the way, I can’t turn down the extra income that comes rolling in from the pumpkin patch I set up in the adjacent field. During the week, various school groups make their annual visit, and on weekends we’re jam-packed from morning till night, pressing apple cider and giving tractor-driven hayrides. It’s impossible for me to take time off.

“But why can’t you hash it out over the phone or by email like you’ve been doing?” I question Ivy, and she seems embarrassed as I bear down on her, hastily covering herself with her sundress. “Why do you suddenly have to fly across the country just because he snaps his fingers? He doesn’t own you.”

“Of course he doesn’t. But you know what this could mean for us if he’s able to sell this script. You wouldn’t have to kill yourself working so hard. You never gave yourself enough time to fully recover from your injuries after that stupid fight. I know you’re in pain a lot of the time, but you just push through it. It’s not right. Eric, I only want to help you as much as I can.” She gets up, tugging down her skirt. She’s nervous about pursuing this, but she’s determined and she’s not going to quit. I’m setting myself up to fight a losing battle.

“I know not going back to school hasn’t been easy for you.” I reach out and tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, attempting to soothe her battered confidence with a loving gesture. “But it doesn’t mean that you’re never going to get your degree. Once the baby comes—”

“Once the baby comes, I’ll be busier than ever.” Her hands come to rest on my hipbones, and I can’t help reacting to her touch. “I’m not going to have the chance to do much of anything for a while. Don’t pretend things aren’t going to change, Eric.”

“I’m not…” But I’m at a loss for words when she begins to massage my stomach muscles with her thumbs. I gasp, widening my stance as my eyes start to close on their own accord.

“I want to contribute any way I can, and the one thing I know how to do is write. I’m barely into the second trimester of my pregnancy. Let me go and sort this out while I’m still able to travel.” She doesn’t like the idea of having to ask my permission for anything, that much is certain. And I can’t blame her for wanting to reassert her independence. But why does it have to be with Will?

“Ivy, if this is on account of what people around town are saying, you don’t have to prove yourself to anybody.” I grit my teeth as she takes a step back, making me acutely aware of my nakedness.

“This is not what this is about.” She glares at me from beneath her eyelashes. “Lauren’s bullshit has nothing to do with this.”

“I just don’t want you feeling pressured into doing anything you’re not up for. All I want to do is take care of you.” I reach for her, and she lets me hold her. She knows how worried I am about this pregnancy and how many things can go wrong. We’re not home free, not by a long shot.

“But it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Eric. When will I ever have a shot at something like this again? Probably never.” She sighs against my shoulder. In her eyes, she considers herself a failure. Coming here to work for me is such a step down for her. She’s too talented to man the counter of Riverside Gardens for the rest of her life. She’s young. She deserves the chance to spread her wings, and Will can give her that, even if I can’t.

“Promise me you won’t be gone more than a week. I don’t think I could part with you for longer than that.” I rest my chin on top of her head, staring glumly at the vibrant colors of the autumn sunset.

“Let me see what he wants. Maybe it won’t even take that long.” Ivy’s trying to encourage me as she rubs my back. After a day of heavy lifting, it feels so good that I shudder against her. “See, I know how to take care of you too, mister.” She chuckles and I hold on to her even tighter.

“Ivy, I can’t bear the thought of you leaving me,” I moan, just as Ben, our part-time helper, bursts into the greenhouse, not seeing us until it’s too late.

“Oh shit. Sorry, boss. I didn’t know you were in here.” Ben slides the rake he was carrying against the wall, lowering his eyes. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nah, that’s it for today. Thanks, Ben,” I mutter, grateful that Ivy’s sundress is back on her body. If he saw her… No, I won’t even go there. She’s mine and mine alone. We’re going to have to be more careful from now on. I can’t keep giving in to her every whim without taking some precautions. No one’s going to see how beautiful she is except for me.

“Goodnight, Ben,” Ivy calls out, unable to turn around because my arms are locking her in place. She’s pressed against my body, covering me even though it’s as clear as day that I’m buck naked behind her.

“Night, Ivy.” Ben shoots me a salacious grin over the top of her head, making me want to beat the crap out of him. As the town’s star quarterback, it’s obvious he bags girls left and right. It’s annoying to think of how many he must’ve been with since hitting puberty. He shuts the greenhouse door with a bang, but not before whistling through his teeth.

“Okay, that was mortifying, especially since he already caught me puking my guts out behind the cornstalk maze.” Ivy wipes her brow as I release my grip on her. “He felt so bad that he lugged a hose out there to clean it up before the kids arrived.”

“I think he has some kind of a crush on you, and I don’t want him getting any ideas.” My tone is lethal as I watch him swing into the driver’s seat of his brand new Ford F-150 pickup. He’s already secured a full ride to Penn State next year on a football scholarship. It must be nice having all of life’s perks at such a young age.

“Jealous?” Ivy teases, grabbing my length in her hand and squeezing hard. “You have no reason to be. He’ll never be half the man you are.”

Not expecting her surprise attack, I can only groan in response, making her laugh. She wraps her fingers around me, rapidly guiding her hand up and down my shaft. I’m powerless to stop her as I lean against the rose bushes, my breath coming in irregular intervals. I feel my knees weakening, but somehow I remain standing as she bends down to take me in her mouth.

“Oh, fuck…Ivy,” I cry out as the thorns dig into my back. I’m no fool. She’s thanking me for giving in to her, grateful that I’m letting her go to L.A. without much of a fight.

But how am I going to stand being away from this woman for seven long days and seven long nights? Let’s just say that I have no problem with her trying to make it up to me. And man, is she off to one hell of a start…

Chapter Three

Ivy

I hate that I’m freaking Eric out.

He tossed and turned all night after I confirmed my travel plans with Will. I’m leaving for L.A. tonight on a red-eye out of New York. Eric’s going to take half a day off and drive me to the airport. He called his buddy Jack to cover for him. He’ll drive the tractor and Eric’s dad Frank will take my place behind the register. Luckily they were both able to pitch in and help out on such short notice. Next week, Eric is going to rotate schedules between the two of them and Ben. Hopefully they’ll be able to tough it out until I get back.

I watch Eric sleep fitfully as the sun shines through the skylight above our bed, causing him to scrunch his eyelids. He looks so cute as he unconsciously throws an arm across his face to deflect the glare. My stomach clenches, and this time not from morning sickness, although it’s been pretty bad these last few months. I feel a pang, knowing that I won’t be waking up next to him for at least a week. We’ve only lived together since July, but the log cabin he built with his own two hands already feels like home. It’s up to me to make these last few hours we have together count.

I’m in one of his freshly laundered t-shirts, the white, short-sleeved style he regularly wears under his plaid shirts. I’m kicking myself for being so fastidious with the household chores because now I wish it smelled like him instead of fabric softener. I’m going to need something of his to help me fall asleep when I’m by myself in a strange hotel room.

I bite my lip to keep from crying. I can do this. I have to be strong, for him and for our baby. I’m not going to have him shouldering the financial load all by himself, not if I can help it. I refuse to strap him with any more burdens. For all intents and purposes, he’s supporting me right now, and it doesn’t make me feel good about myself. I’ve always pulled my own weight for as long as I can remember. I’ve never taken handouts from anybody before, and I don’t intend to start now.

Since our first night together, he’s always slept naked beside me. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I feel his erection press against the back of my thigh, and so far the only name he’s called out in his sleep has been mine. I’ve been dreading the moment when he cries out for Cassidy, but it hasn’t happened yet. It seems like he’s really and truly over her.

I glance over as he rolls onto his back, still unable to fully relax. He’s already pitching a tent, the sheet standing straight up below his waist. I chuckle to myself. He’s definitely ready for me. It’s time to make my move and start pampering my man with the precious moments we have left.

The feather mattress sinks beneath me as I get to my knees. Yanking down the sheet, I take a minute to commit his body to memory. I could stare at him all day long, but the clock is ticking. Scooting closer, I lift one leg over his waist to straddle him. He likes when I’m on top, especially when he sits up to join me. That’s a favorite position of ours, even though sometimes he likes to turn me around and take me from behind. I think it reminds him of our first time down on his couch when he tore me out of my black Jackie O. dress.

Before that night, I never had much experience with guys. My one hook-up was with Andre, the foreign exchange student from Ukraine whose dorm room was across the hall from mine sophomore year. We were always bumping into each other, making pathetic attempts at conversation. One Sunday morning, after a night out drinking with Sophie and the girls, we found ourselves between shower stalls. Stepping out, he took one look at me. I took one look at him. And bam…my virginity was a thing of the past. It was over in about twenty-five seconds, and I didn’t come anywhere close to achieving an orgasm. Sadly, we never had a chance at a second opportunity before the semester ended. He journeyed back to his homeland and that was that.

It was stupid having unprotected sex with someone I barely knew. And because of the language barrier, we never really had a real conversation. But I just wanted that dreaded rite of passage to be over with. I was sick of being the only one with an intact hymen among my group of friends. No one likes being the freak. I know I sure didn’t.

I haven’t revealed much about my sexual history to Eric. He’s kind of possessive like that, and I don’t think he likes the fact that he wasn’t my first. To be honest, I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t think I would’ve been as confident coming into this relationship without any kind of experience under my belt. Up until then, Cassidy was the love of his life. I was pitting myself against some serious competition. If I had been a virgin on top of all that, I would’ve been a complete basket case.

And I find it seriously hot that Eric was only with one other woman besides me. He wasn’t a player or sowing his wild oats after Cassidy died. He knew what it was like to be in love, and he was capable of restraint—two qualities that hooked me from the get-go. I knew that if I found the courage to trust him with my heart, he’d return my love with nothing but loyalty and devotion—as long as we stayed far away from the machinations of Lauren Price.

I need to drive any thoughts of that evil bitch right out of my head. I’m not going to have her ruin my morning with Eric. But I can’t prevent a surge of anger from coursing through me when I remember how she refused to sign off on Professor Tate’s form letter, denying me of my internship credits and basically canceling out the time I spent at the Weekend Express, my replacement assignment. Without her signature, I didn’t have enough hours to complete the requirements stated in the academic catalog. Her maneuver prevented me from enrolling in the courses I needed to finish my degree at the main campus. I couldn’t move forward without securing another placement, and since I am living in an area with more cornfields than media outlets, it was virtually impossible to secure a new position before the fall semester started.

Lauren’s efforts to derail my career were a complete success. She won, but I walked away with Eric. And it’s been eating at her ever since. Her bogus—although very public—display of affection with Eric went a long way toward cementing the image of them as a couple in the public’s mind. Everyone was rooting for Eric to make a fresh start. They were all pulling for him to find love again, just not with an outsider like me. They wanted him with one of their own. I was too young, too poor, too blah compared to Lauren. Eric could do so much better.

And I thought so too until Will contacted me out of the blue about his screenplay. He was having trouble nailing the local color the producers so desperately wanted when they visited our town last summer. They were considering moving on to another project if he couldn’t deliver what they were looking for by the end of the year.

Admittedly, Will is more of a schmoozer than a writer. He can talk a good game, but he just can’t translate his big ideas onto the page. If I didn’t step in and help him, he would have been in danger of losing his funding. Eric was leery of the idea, but he knew I needed this. He didn’t trust Will, but he was happy to see me writing again, putting my talent to good use.

Every spare minute I could cram into the day, I spent clicking away on my laptop, sending various drafts to Will for approval. I had never written a screenplay before, so I stuck mostly to dialogue, leaving out elements like camera angles, storyboards, and set design. I was in over my head, but I was having fun—and secretly getting even with Lauren in the process, making her the villain of the piece.

Up until this point, the producers liked what I was doing. Everything was going fine until Will texted that something was up. He didn’t elaborate when I called him back. He was rounding up the partners for an emergency meeting, and he needed my ass on a plane, pregnant or not. He was in one of his frantic moods and barely had time to write my flight number on his hand before hanging up on me. Whatever it was that had him so rattled didn’t bode well for the project. I had to help him salvage things. I owed it to Will.

Glancing down, I find that Eric is awake, watching me. I was so lost in thought. I didn’t even realize he was up. I’ll deal with Will when I get to L.A., but for now, my attention is focused on Eric. For the first time, I know what it’s like to be placed at the center of someone else’s universe because Eric gave me what Will never could—his heart and soul. He taught me what true love is all about. And he continues to teach me, both in and out of the bedroom.

“Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?” He brushes my cares aside with one sweep of his hand, smoothing my hair away from my face. I’m still sitting on top of him, so it’s no wonder he’s awake. I’ve already gained about fifteen pounds with this pregnancy. I’m not exactly as light as a feather anymore.

“I did, but I don’t think you slept so well.” I frown, worried that he’s not going to get any rest at all when I’m gone.

“I didn’t disturb you, did I?” He sits up, lightly sliding me off him. I’m a little put out that he doesn’t want to fool around. He must be really tired.

I shake my head, trying to hide my disappointment. I can’t remember the last time he rejected my advances. Ever since I moved in, he’s been at my beck and call. Yeah, he has me spoiled, but we’re not going to see each other for a week. This is like our last chance to have sex, so why is he wasting it?

He yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He gazes at me sleepily under hooded lids. He has dark circles under his eyes, and it makes me nervous when I think about how much driving he has to do today. Three hours to the airport and three hours back—and he already looks exhausted.

It’s such a busy time of year at the garden center, and I’m abandoning him in the midst of the madness. I suck at being a girlfriend. God only knows what kind of mother I’m going to make. I just don’t want to let my new family down.

He notices the pensive expression on my face and draws my feet onto his lap. With his strong hands, he begins massaging each arch, one at a time, and it feels like heaven. I fall back among the pillows as he works his magic. This has become our morning ritual. He reaches back, grabbing the bottle of body lotion off the end table. Squeezing some onto his hands, he runs his palms up my leg all the way to the knee. I look up through the skylight at a flock of birds flying overhead as he begins to do the same thing to my other leg. I close my eyes and smile. He’s going to make a great father. I can picture him doting over our baby, just like he’s doting over me. The lotion even smells like baby powder.

But I have to stop being so needy. I want to give him some tender loving care before I go—and more than just getting the mud stains out of his jeans and preparing pre-cooked meals for the freezer. I want to do something special for him.

Getting off the bed, I grab his hand, dragging him along with me. He laughs, amused by whatever it is I’m up to. Groaning, he walks over to the dresser, taking out a fresh pair of boxers. I try to hide my disappointment that he’s getting dressed as I head into the bathroom. He must really not be in the mood this morning.

I pull a tiny stool out of the corner and place it in front of the sink. Digging through the shelves, I find what I’m looking for. Everything else I need is either on the counter or in one of the drawers.

“Hey, what are you up to?” Eric surprises me, kissing the top of my head while snuggling me from behind. He’s only wearing his boxers. That’s a good sign. They’re easy enough to remove. My eyes find his in the bathroom mirror as he drapes his arm protectively across my stomach. “Are you feeling okay? The last couple of mornings have been a little rough on you.”

Oh jeez, he heard me. Maybe that’s why he’s backing off. I thought he was already gone when I was on my knees, clutching the rim of the toilet bowl. But he must’ve been downstairs with Shep, who always renders his plaintive doggie wails whenever I’m battling a case of morning sickness. Shep’s howling undoubtedly muffled Eric’s anxious footsteps. I didn’t even know he was down there listening to me. How humiliating. I’m not even comfortable with Eric hearing me pee behind a closed door, never mind puking my guts out.

“I’m fine,” I reply before turning to face him. “Sit down.”

He raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to hide the smirk forming on his lips. I think he likes when I get all bossy with him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, acting like he’s ready to obey my every command.

I turn on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up. This close, I can see the tiny freckles dotting his shoulders. I want nothing more than to bend down and kiss each one, but I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to get distracted—not yet. Eric starts stroking the back of my leg as I get everything ready. He’s waiting patiently, not sure of what to expect.

Once the water is lukewarm, I gently nudge his back, urging him to lean forward as I drape a towel around his shoulders. Trailing my fingers over his neck, I ease him into a reclining position. He gets the drift of where this is going as he gazes up at me, his head resting above the sink. There’s nothing but adoration in his eyes as I touch his face, my hand lingering on his cheek.

I hover over him, pausing for a minute. It’s hard to concentrate with him looking at me like that. I grip the edge of the counter. If I give in now, it’s all over, and I really want to do this for him. I take a deep breath, willing myself to continue.

I cup my hand under the running water and start wetting his hair. I work my fingers through it as he turns his head, allowing me to get the sides. His strong jawline stands out even more in profile. I feel his breath skim my breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, causing my nipples to harden in response. Seeing how my body is reacting to him, he lowers his hands to his knees, gripping them tightly. He seems determined not to touch me, and that gets me going even more.

His hair is now completely wet, but I can’t stop myself from running my fingers through it. He moans with pleasure, making me glad I read that Cosmo article about how to massage a man’s scalp. He’s loving every minute of it. The ends of his hair are starting to curl as I rake my nails across his head. I can’t believe how long his hair got. He’s been too busy to go into town for a cut, but I’m about to change all that.

I turn off the faucet, and he takes it as his cue to sit up. I lift the towel from his shoulders, tossing it over his head. Only his mouth is visible as I wring out the excess moisture. I pat him dry as he leans back with his eyes closed, a sigh escaping his lips. My heart flutters from knowing that what I’m doing is making him feel relaxed and content.

Reaching for the scissors, I comb out a section of hair and start snipping away. I’m not a professional stylist by any means, but I’m competent enough to give him a decent trim. I measure how much I’m going to cut between my fingers as the pieces of hair start to fall to the floor. His eyes are shut, but there’s a smile on his face like he’s in a state of pure and utter bliss.

When I finish with the top, I kneel down to work on the sides. He can’t prevent his eyes from opening when he senses how close I am to him. He tries to get me to meet his gaze, but I keep my attention on what I’m doing, drawing the comb through his sideburn. He blinks when I bring the scissors near his face. I make a few snips then caress his neck reassuringly. I move around him to cut the other side, making sure everything looks even. We’re practically nose to nose as I make a few extra passes, wanting him to look perfect. It’s intense, feeling the weight of his stare on me. I can’t believe I got through all of that without kissing him.

I step back for a moment in anticipation. Now for the part I’ve been waiting for. I don’t know why but I’ve always wanted to shave the guy I love. Those kinds of scenes in movies never fail to turn me on. The man and woman are touching but not touching. Every movement is heightened. Every breath is labored. Every touch is charged. They’re playing at restraint when really they’re bursting at the seams. I admit that I always wanted to feel that level of sexual tension that such an intimate act creates. Not through a screen—but in person.

And Eric is about to help me live out that fantasy.

My heart races as I pick up the can of shaving cream, shaking it for all it’s worth. I tremble, squirting a generous amount onto my hand. I can’t believe how nervous I am. My mouth is watering as I dab my finger into the rich lather. He’s looking at me with such intensity that I almost chicken out and rinse my hands in the sink. Instead, I rub them together before spreading the shaving cream onto his stubbled cheeks.

I cover his mouth, gliding my fingers across the faint beginnings of a mustache. His face is nearly all white, and I chuckle to myself as I remove the lather from his lips with my thumb. He groans when he feels my finger on his mouth. I grin as I wipe the lather from my hands onto the towel before reaching for his razor.

I try to get in a good position as I raise the blade, but I feel awkward. He gazes at me warily, afraid that I’m going to cut him. He’s at my mercy now. A surge of heat shoots through me, and I press my thighs firmly together. He shifts uncomfortably on the tiny stool, causing me to look down. There’s a huge bulge in his boxers. I purse my lips to keep from smiling. I’m not surprised that he’s enjoying this, too.

I start by making a large vertical stroke down the length of his cheek. I love the sound of the bristle of his beard scraping against the path of the razor. It’s so sexy. Elated by my first attempt, I turn on the water to rinse off the razor before making another pass. I continue my way across his face from left to right, pleased by my progress. So far, I haven’t even nicked him. Familiar with the drill, he lifts his chin, allowing me free access to his neck. The blade scratches against his skin, causing him to flinch. I stop what I’m doing and wait for any blood to appear, but there isn’t any. Now that I’m in the home stretch, I have to calm my nerves. The last thing I want to do is cut him. I’m not used to handling a razor over the angles and planes of a man’s face. It’s a lot more difficult than the long, easy strokes I use to shave my legs.

With the last swipe, I want to jump up and down and scream, “I did it.” Instead, I bury his face in the towel, blotting away the last remaining traces of shaving cream. I can’t resist running my knuckles against his cheek. His skin feels so incredibly smooth. I love when he’s clean-shaven. When he’s scruffy, his stubble scratches my face and neck. His kisses end up leaving a trail of red marks that can last well into the next day. Not to mention, his mouth feels best between my legs when it’s not irritating the delicate skin surrounding my inner thighs.

He runs his hands over his face, examining my handiwork. He smiles at me, indicating that he’s pleased with the results. He’s usually in such a rush to get to the garden center that he doesn’t take his time getting ready. On the days he does shave, it seems like he’s always gulping down his morning coffee with bits of toilet paper stuck to his face to stem the bleeding where he cut himself. I’ve even caught him trying to shave with the bathroom mirror still fogged up from his shower. Oh, the crazy things men do.

I lean forward, intending to kiss him, but catch myself at the last moment. I want to draw this out as long as I can, and his lips are distracting me. I nuzzle against the softness of his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Did you like that?”

He doesn’t even give me the chance to respond as he lifts me up, placing me between his legs. He raises my arms, skimming his hands down my body as he fumbles with the hem of the shirt. In one swift movement, he draws it over my head, sliding my hair through the collar.

Standing up, he makes quick work of removing my thong. He’s in such a hurry that it’s still hanging around my ankles when he hoists me onto the bathroom counter. His mouth crashes onto mine as I tug on his boxers. They’re so snug around his hips that they won’t budge. I groan against his lips and he takes the hint, freeing his hands from my hair in order to yank them from his body. Anxious to reclaim my mouth, he tries to move between my legs, but my stupid thong prevents him from spreading them open. He’s wild as he bends down to untangle the strap that’s now wedged between my toes.

My breasts jiggle my hair as I burst out laughing. We’re both naked and absolutely desperate for each other, but seeing him so intently focused on freeing my thong from my feet just cracks me up. I can’t stop. He looks up at me like I’m crazy. He has no clue how I was imagining this whole perfect movie moment in my mind about how this would all play out. Romance in real life is so much more ridiculous.

I can tell he wants to take me now, but he’s debating whether or not to stifle my laughter with his mouth and keep on going. Despite the fact that he’s kneeling on the bathroom floor that’s covered with pieces of his hair, I can see a spot of shaving cream I missed behind his left ear. His hair is still wet, unstyled, and plastered flat against his head. But to me, he’s never looked sexier because in this moment he’s fulfilling every fantasy of mine and then some.

I open my legs to him with a devilish grin. If he wants me, he can have me, even if I can’t stop giggling like a schoolgirl. He slides between them, pulling my hips into him and tossing my legs around his waist. He’s inside me before I can even blink. I cling to his shoulders as I already feel myself clenching around him.

Oh yeah, reality is way better than any movie.

Chapter Four

Eric

I really hope having so much sex isn’t going to hurt the baby, but I can’t get enough of Ivy.

I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not even Cassidy. I was such a clumsy kid back then. I didn’t know how to draw things out and take my time. I was awkward as hell. Two virgins making love for the first time, well… Things didn’t go so smoothly, not for the first couple of tries at least. It took us a while to get our timing right and get in sync with each other. The chemistry was there and I was definitely attracted to Cassidy, but I always handled her with kid gloves like I was afraid I was going to break her or something. And then after she got sick, I felt like a jerk for wanting her that way when she was suffering so much.

But it was more than that. With Cassidy, I realize I was holding myself back. I didn’t try things I knew she wouldn’t like. I didn’t ask her to do things she wasn’t comfortable with. I held her up on a pedestal, not wanting to defile her in any way. To me, she’d always be so pure and innocent—the kind of girl a guy feels a duty to shelter and protect. She was my delicate rosebud I had to keep safe.

The moments we shared were tender and sweet. There was nothing wild or passionate about them. She always felt shy about her body, preferring to turn off the lights and dive deep beneath the covers. She was thin and small-boned, lacking any real womanly curves. She regretted being so flat-chested even though it made no difference to me. What concerned me more was how tiny she was. I knew it hurt her when I was inside of her, stretching her to the limit. She didn’t like the physical act of intercourse all that much, and I usually did what I had to do then withdrew from her. She preferred to cuddle and have me gently rain kisses all over her body. She liked when I was gentle with her.

With Ivy, sex couldn’t be more different. From the very first night, I did things with her I’d never done with Cassidy—things I’d been dying to try and things I had always wanted done to me. We were ready to explore our bodies with abandon. It had nothing to do with shame or guilt or trepidation. It had everything to do with satisfying our hunger for each other. Her body was a natural fit for mine, taking me in as far as I could go. For the first time, I felt free being with a woman. I could let loose and really go for it without the fear of hurting her or causing her pain.

And I couldn’t get enough of her body. I wanted to learn every inch of it, what she responded to and what she didn’t. She let me touch her wherever I wanted, as deep as I wanted. Knowing that I had to fight off Will and Ryan in order to be with her, I just assumed she was a lot more experienced than I was. So I was surprised when she revealed that we had been with the same number of people—two.

Call it old-fashioned, but hearing that she hadn’t slept with dozens of guys helped soothe my male ego a bit. She was responding to me because she wanted all I had to give, not because she had a bag of tricks up her sleeve that she gained from previous exploits. At heart, she was eager to embrace her sexuality. It made her come alive. And the best part about it? I was the one driving her desires. She was hot—for me.

Sure, women eye me up, but only because I’m blessed with broad shoulders and a job that keeps me toned. I don’t need to hit the gym to build muscle. It comes with the territory. But I wasn’t always this way. Back in high school, I was still growing into my body. I leveled out at 6’3” with arms that eventually bulked up thanks to the sweat of my brow working the land. Before I graduated, I ran my grandma’s farm, moving in with her until she passed away at the end of my senior year. It was a lot to take on for someone so young, but it gave me the confidence I needed to start my own business. I knew even at twenty-two that I could handle it.

I guess that’s why I admire Ivy’s get-up-and-go spirit. She reminds me so much of myself. She doesn’t want any free rides. She wants to earn everything herself. Her family doesn’t have a lot of money, so she was putting herself through college, combining her partial scholarship with a variety of part-time jobs from waitressing in a diner to answering phones in a dentist’s office and everything in between. It really freaked her out last summer when she wasn’t able to bring in an income. Her internship was unpaid and took up the majority of her time. She basically saved as much as she could before the spring semester ended and hoped she’d be able to get by living on a pretty frugal budget.

She’s super smart and deserves so much more than the hand she’s been dealt. If Lauren hadn’t screwed things up for her, she’d be at the main campus right now pounding the pavement, looking to uncover her latest story. Whiling away her time in the country has to be killing her. She never complains, but I know she’s bored here. There’s not enough excitement for her. She likes to be on the pulse of things, finding a scoop, investigating a lead. The only noteworthy event at Riverside Gardens is when Shep needs a bath in tomato juice after chasing a skunk. Not exactly headline-grabbing stuff.

That’s why I have to let her go to L.A. even though I don’t want to. I can’t have her come to resent me, making her feel trapped. The baby was a surprise—one we didn’t see coming. But it’s also a tie that forced her to swap her life for mine. We both want to live as a family and raise our child together, but that requires sacrifice on both of our parts. She lost out on a promising career and I have to work longer hours. It’s not going to be easy supporting three people instead of one.

I’d like nothing more than for Ivy to return to school and finish what she started, but with a baby on the way, it’s just not possible. If she weren’t pregnant, I’d have no problem financing her last year. But there have been so many extra costs connected to the baby that I never anticipated. Ivy’s health insurance isn’t the greatest. Her mom lost hers, so she’s on an individual plan where she has to reach a staggering deductible before her coverage kicks in. So far, I’ve had to pay for every test she’s had out of pocket. And that’s before the baby clothes, car seats, cribs, bottles, diapers—the list goes on and on. I bought all of these things before but Ivy and I both agreed there was no way we could use what Cassidy and I had purchased for our baby. There were too many bad memories attached to that stuff. All I know is that it probably would’ve been cheaper if Ivy went back to college instead of getting pregnant—at least until I was able to get the garden center out from under its mountain of debt.

Starting a business from scratch is tough. There are so many initial costs and investments that need to be made in order to get it going. I had to buy the land. I had to purchase an inventory. Most things I can grow myself, but not everything. I’d love to increase the size of my staff, but I can’t afford the payroll taxes accompanying every new hire. I pay Jack under the table whenever he can moonlight for me, and my dad does the books for free in his spare time. Things are tight, but I’m hanging in there.

I guess the last time around I was so consumed with Cassidy’s deteriorating health that I wasn’t paying attention to how expensive having a kid really is. Cassidy’s parents helped out with a lot, and I had a little nest egg after I sold my grandma’s farm. It was going to tide us over until life got back to normal, but it never did.

Now I kind of wish I hadn’t built this house right away. I didn’t have to have the finest quality wood for the closets or the top-of-the-line bluestone for the fireplace. I could’ve kept things simple, but I didn’t. Building this house was what kept me alive after Cassidy died. It was my love letter to her, and I wanted nothing but the best inside and out. I was consumed in finishing it, wrapped up in the project for months. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I sawed, hammered, and drilled until my fingers bled, blowing through what little I’d inherited from my grandma in the process. I didn’t sock any money away for a rainy day. Instead, I used it to hide out from the world.

So I feel like a dick since I can’t provide for Ivy and the baby the way I want to, the way they deserve. Sure, she likes working with Will on the screenplay. She’s doing what she loves and what she’s good at, but the chances of it turning into something are slim to none. There’s not a lot of money in independent filmmaking. The budgets are a fraction of what is spent on major blockbusters. Some indies are even bankrolled through fan contributions on fundraising websites. Investors are lucky to break even since the audience for these types of movies is relatively small. The only chance of hitting it big is by building a word-of-mouth following at one of the major film festivals. Only then does an independent film have a shot to break into the mainstream come Oscar time. At least, that’s how Ivy explained it to me.

I’m not even sure if Will is giving her credit for her work or if she’s just writing under his name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s using her for all she’s worth, not expecting to pay her a dime if the movie’s successful. She hasn’t signed any type of contract, and while there’s an email trail of correspondence between the two of them, he’d probably deny that she had any involvement if the project takes off. He’ll most likely pay her a small lump sum to keep her quiet and that’ll be it. He’ll pocket the rest.

I feel like I’m sending Ivy into a den of thieves to get bamboozled by a bunch of Hollywood bigwigs. She’s a young girl with an extraordinary amount of talent. She doesn’t have an agent. She doesn’t have a lawyer. All she has is me. And it would gut me if they take advantage of her out there. Yeah, Will’s paying for her flight and her hotel room, but that’s about it. The whole thing doesn’t sound too promising.

I haven’t read the script yet. Ivy won’t let me until it’s done. She says she feels weird about me seeing her unfinished work. But I read all her articles in the Independent Gazette and she was fine with that. I was always stoked to see her byline whenever I opened the paper. It was cool to actually know the writer. Check that—love the writer.

I look at her now as we get inside my truck to drive to the airport. I can’t help remembering our first ride together, bringing a container of gas to her stranded car after it had died on the dirt road leading to the garden center.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ve already kept you waiting for forty-five minutes. You must have a million things you have to do.” Ivy glances at me anxiously.

“True, but I want to,” I respond, giving her a wink. “It seems like your day’s been bad enough as it is. The last thing I’m going to have you do is lug this heavy container out there by yourself. C’mon, get in.”

“But you already gave me a pair of shoes. I can’t keep taking without giving something back in return.” She pouts as she hops up next to me on the seat. I take a second to enjoy the moment. A girl hasn’t ridden next to me in quite some time.

“Are you forgetting that the whole thing was my dog’s fault? We’re even as far as I’m concerned.” I crank the ignition and the engine roars to life. Shep, hearing the sound of the truck, comes running with the heel of Ivy’s shoe in his mouth. “See what I mean?”

She takes one look at Shep and loses it. She’s laughing so hard that she’s practically crying. There’s something about her laugh that makes me want to join in. We’re cracking up as Shep gets more and more annoyed that I’m taking someone else for a ride and not him. He jumps up on the passenger door, hanging his paws over the window, making us laugh even harder.

“Oh, the poor thing. I stole his seat.” She reaches out to give him a scratch behind the ears. He usually doesn’t let people touch his head, but he seems to like Ivy. And I kinda like her too.

“C’mon, boy. Get down. We can’t stay here all day.” Shep heeds my command, lowering his tail. I don’t often yell at him, but his manners today have been atrocious even though Ivy’s been cool about it. I know I wouldn’t mind staying parked with Ivy from now until eternity. But I don’t think she’d appreciate that. She’s been sweet and polite, humoring me and my crazy dog, but she probably can’t wait to get out of here.

“Bye, Shep!” Ivy waves to him as we pull away. She reaches back to look at him over her shoulder and her hand unexpectedly lands on my leg. “Oops, sorry.” Her face flushes as she quickly pulls it away.

I can’t speak for a full five seconds. My dick immediately went hard at her touch. Her fingers were so tantalizingly close. I clear my throat and try to change the subject. “I can’t believe Lauren sent you all the way out here just to pick up a disk. I could’ve dropped it in the mail.” At the mention of Lauren’s name, Ivy’s face drops, but it buys me some time to collect myself—not like that’s going to help matters as I catch a whiff of her perfume. I clutch the wheel until my knuckles turn white. She has no idea what she’s doing to me right now as the bumps in the road cause her breasts to bounce against her camisole.

“No, it’s okay. I had to run an errand at the movie theater first, but that was a bust,” she shrugs, and I nearly come undone at her choice of words. Ever since I laid eyes on her, all I can think about is sex—and what it would be like with her.

“Why, what happened?” I try to appear interested, and I am, but she’s so damn distracting. The way her body moves. The way she touched me. The way she smells. All of my senses are heightened.

“I was supposed to pick up the payment for their ad, but I struck out. Now Lauren’s going to go nuclear on my ass because the whole upcoming edition revolves around the film festival. It might be too late to change it.” She fiddles with her skirt as I pull up alongside her car.

“Yeah, I heard they’re not doing so well over there. People around here are so used to watching movies at home. The theater’s only been open for a few months. We had a pretty bad winter and no one wanted to make the trek into town on those cold and snowy nights. But now that summer’s here, they need to be reminded that it’s there.” I lean back, straining against my jeans to reach for the wallet in my back pocket. “I’m a huge movie buff and I don’t want to see it fail. I like being able to see a film on the big screen. There’s nothing better. Tell me how much they owe the Gazette and I’ll foot the bill. The arts need as much support as they can get.”

“Eric, you’re being way too generous. You don’t have to solve all my problems in one day.” She shifts, facing me. Instinctively, she lays her hand on my arm as a friendly gesture, but it ignites every nerve ending in my body. I lower my head and take a deep breath, and she misinterprets my response. “Please don’t be mad. I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice.”

“Because I like you, Ivy.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Damn it. “I mean…you seem like a really good person, who just so happens to be dealing with a lot of bad luck on her first day on the job.”

“How did you know it was my first day?” She looks at me in amazement, her jaw dropping.

“Because you’re trying too hard.” I’m joking, and for a minute I think she’s going to throttle me, but she doesn’t. The reason I know is that Lauren pretty much has me on her mind 24/7. I’m her obsession. So it’s a pretty fair assumption that she’d make up some excuse to send her new intern up here to spy on me. But I can’t tell Ivy that. She has to work with the nutcase. “Ivy, if you don’t take my money now, I’m just going to ask Lauren to tell me the amount when I call her to explain why you’re wearing clogs.”

“You’re really going to do that? I thought you were kidding.” She sounds impressed by my willingness to go out of my way for her. I’m not looking forward to talking to Lauren, but if it saves Ivy a tongue lashing, I’ll do it. From the moment I held her in my arms, I haven’t been able to shake the urge of wanting to protect her.

“I’m a man of my word.” I look deeply into her eyes, showing her I mean what I’m saying, and she blushes. “Now let’s go fill that empty tank of yours.”

My hand is on the door handle when I feel her pat me on the back. “Thank you, Eric. You’re really something special, you know that?”

And just like that, she’s out of the truck. But the warmth of her touch combined with the sweetness of her voice leaves my head spinning. Man, I can feel myself falling for this girl—or maybe I already have.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Ivy shoots me a worried glance from the passenger seat.

I’ve been meaning to replace the ignition switch on my truck for a while now, but I kept on putting it off even though it’s been giving me problems. But man, it sure picked a hell of a time to die on me. I turn the key again, but to no avail.

“Eric, we’re already late, and you know I can’t miss this flight.” Ivy’s voice rises as she starts to panic.

We took our time getting ready this morning. I wanted to savor every last moment with her. We should’ve been on the road a half hour ago, but I followed her into the shower and…well, one thing led to another. I was a good boy while she cut my unkempt hair and shaved my fledgling attempt at a beard, but after that I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Holding back while she was cleaning me up just made me even crazier for her when she was done. It was torture having to sit there and behave while she was turning me on with every snip of the scissors and flick of the razor.

But I have to get her to the airport somehow, and my mind begins to race furiously through all of the available options. Jack was already out back on the tractor, but he rode over on his motorcycle, so that wasn’t going to work. My dad was off visiting an old buddy of his and wouldn’t be back until this afternoon. And my mom isn’t able to handle the stick shift in the old truck in their garage. And there’s really no one else I could call on such short notice.

Just when I’m about to give up, we hear a set of tires crunching the gravel and the pulsing bass of a stereo turned all the way up.

“Oh thank God,” Ivy whispers. “It’s Ben.”

Not exactly what I was thinking, but he could be our way out of this mess.

“Hey, boss. Turns out I don’t have school today because it’s a teacher in-service day or some crazy shit like that. And we don’t have football practice either because Saturday was a day game, so I thought I’d head on over here. Maybe pick up a few extra hours or something. What do you say?” Ben saunters over to my beaten, broken-down truck after exiting his showroom-worthy model while tucking his aviator sunglasses into his front pocket.

I fucking hate the kid. He has no worries, no responsibilities, not a care in the world—except deciding which cheerleader he’s going to bang on Friday night. He does whatever he wants, whenever he feels like it. And now I’m going to have to grovel at his feet.

I grit my teeth as he leans against the door, peering in at Ivy. “Ben, we’re going to have to borrow your truck.”

“Oh man, no can do. My dad has a pretty tight insurance policy on this baby. I’m the only one he has listed as a driver. If I let you take it and something happens, he’ll go apeshit on my ass.” Ben grimaces, but it’s all for show. He just doesn’t want me driving his truck. Does he really have to be such a dick about it?

“Please, Ben…” Ivy urges. I can’t stand hearing her beg him for anything.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I can do.” Ben’s grin slowly widens as he watches Ivy hanging on his every word. “I can drive Ivy to the airport…as long as you’re cool with it, Eric.”

I’m definitely not cool with it, but Ivy’s already out of her seat, trying to pull her luggage out of the back. No matter how much I don’t like this, there will be no arguing with her now. I just don’t like the idea of Ben driving like a maniac through all of that traffic. Ivy is precious cargo and he better treat her as such—and not tear down the interstate like the reckless thrill-seeker that he is.

I grunt while getting out, gently moving Ivy aside to take the handle of the suitcase from her. She huffs, giving me an exasperated look. What? I’m only trying to help. She shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy in her condition anyway. I only hope a stewardess is able to put her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment since I won’t be there to do it for her. And now I won’t be there to kiss her goodbye either. A knot forms in my stomach knowing that this is it.

Ben stands there watching as I draw Ivy against my body. I glare at him over the top of her head, and he takes the hint, grabbing her bags with one hand. I bury my lips against her hair, breathing her in. I tighten my hold on her, sending him a clear message. She’s mine, dickhead. Don’t even think about it.

Staring him down, Ben is the first to look away. Good, he’s going to miss quite a show. I bend, capturing Ivy’s lips with my own. She’s a little timid at first, knowing that Ben is probably watching. But it’s not long before she gets swept up in the kiss, moaning against my mouth. I spread my fingers firmly across her back, allowing my thumbs to come forward and play with her breasts. This way, Ben can’t see what I’m doing to her and she opens herself up to me even more. She can’t get enough of me touching them, and I’ve come up with many ingenious ways of fondling her over the past couple of months. I’m all about giving my woman what she wants when she wants it in order to keep her satisfied.

But Ben seems annoyed by our public display of affection as he impatiently beeps the horn. “C’mon, Ivy. We gotta go,” he calls out from behind the wheel.

She pulls away from my lips breathless, my thumbs still circling her nipples. “Ah,” she sighs. “You can’t keep doing that or I’ll never leave.”

“That’s my intention.” I grin down at her as she places her tiny hands on top of my large ones. She hooks her fingers through mine, reluctantly drawing me away from her body.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” She peers up at me as her eyes fill with tears.

“Hurry up and do what you have to do.” I take a deep breath, willing myself to let her go. “I’ll be waiting.”

“You better be.” She tilts her chin, making a valiant effort to smile as her bottom lip starts to tremble.

“I’ll be counting the hours until you’re back in my arms.” I try to encourage her, but it’s hard. I don’t want her anywhere but at my side.

Ben beeps again, and she turns around to indicate she’s coming.

“I love you, Eric Young,” she cries, standing on her tiptoes to give me a quick peck on the cheek.

I want to grab her and hold her close, but I don’t. I know she has to go. It’s getting late, and I don’t want her rushing. Hearing her say my name gives me an idea—it might be just the thing I need to endure this separation until she returns.

“I love you, you crazy girl,” I whisper as she walks backward toward Ben’s truck, never taking her eyes off me.

She gets in and barely has her seatbelt buckled when Ben tears out of the driveway, hitting the road with a cloud of dust forming in his wake. He’s no doubt showing off for her. But he better cut the crap and slow down.

Because he has my whole world riding next to him…

Chapter Five

Ivy

I don’t like the idea of being alone with a teenage boy.

I focus on the acres of farmland flying by in order to calm my nerves—anything to distract myself from reliving some pretty bad memories. It’s been three months since Ryan tried to force himself on me, and I’m a little on edge from being in a similar situation. I’ve seen the way Ben looks at me when Eric’s not around. He has that quarterback swagger, and he’s used to having girls fall at his feet. He’s heard me fooling around with Eric on multiple occasions, and his eyes linger on certain areas of my body that they shouldn’t.

I cringe inside, wondering if he’s seen me naked, and it brings the whole thing with Ryan flooding back. I can’t stand the thought of another horny guy jerking off to me. Look where it led the last time. I have to be more careful. I need to maintain control. Ben may view me as a piece of meat, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get a taste.

The windows are down and the radio is blasting. He hasn’t really said much. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of his. I’m blatantly aware of his physicality, his tattooed biceps bulging through the sleeves of his t-shirt. If I had to defend myself against him, I don’t think I’d win. He’s way stronger than I am. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, that’s for sure. Now would be the time to establish some boundaries.

“Could you roll up the windows? I’m getting blown to bits over here,” I ask him nicely.

He smirks but grudgingly complies. “I don’t know about you, but I kinda like getting blown.”

I cringe inside and mutter, “Fuck you,” under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks, turning down the radio.

“Thank you,” I respond, giving him a fake smile.

“See, you can be sweet when you want to be,” he snickers, egging me on.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s deliberately pushing my buttons and it’s killing me that I’m letting him do it.

“I don’t know. Word is you can be one hell of a tease.” His eyes shift over to me then back to the road.

“Excuse me?” I can’t believe the taunts that are coming out of his mouth.

“You heard me. Or maybe you’d like to explain just what exactly went on between you and Ryan Price.” He stops sharply, throwing me back against the seat as the car he’s tailgating hits the brakes.

“Why? What’s he been saying?” I haven’t heard a word from Ryan after his fight with Eric. I thought he’d licked his wounds and was over it, but apparently not.

“He’s been talking shit about you all over school. How you came on to him in his Jeep. How he turned you down. How you slept with Eric to get back at him.” Ben spouts off Ryan’s lies so casually, like he couldn’t care less if they’re true or not. “Then you ended up pregnant, and Eric, being the honorable guy he is, took your slutty ass in even though you’re only milking him for all it’s worth because you have nowhere else to go.”

“Hmm, that’s it?” I might as well hear it all and pretend that what he’s saying isn’t affecting me in the slightest.

“He says you stabbed his stepsister in the back when she was the only one nice enough to give you a job and that you suck as a writer because she had to rewrite all of your pieces and…” He pauses as I interrupt him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s more?” I ask sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Apparently, you have this sick fascination with Cassidy and you want to be her or something.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, probably too afraid to look at my face.

“Really?” I can’t even speak. I’m so mad.

“You got yourself pregnant. You’re wearing her clothes and living in the house Eric built for her. So yeah, pretty much.” He shrugs like these phony accusations are completely logical.

“How do you even know about that?” My heart starts to race when I recall Eric’s reaction when he saw me wearing the shirt he bought for Cassidy. I’ll never forget the look he gave me as long as I live.

“Ryan said that the dry cleaner told him that you brought in something he remembered Cassidy wearing in one of the pictures they showed of her on the news, that you ruined it.” Ben shakes his head. “Man, talk about all of the puzzle pieces coming together.”

“Ryan’s saying an awful lot for a guy who should be keeping his mouth shut.” I don’t know how much I should reveal to Ben. He could go back to Ryan and tell him everything I say, turning this battle into an all-out war. I thought when Ryan found out that Will had told me what he was up to that would be the end of it, but apparently not. I’ve been living in a bubble of blissful delusion while Ryan has been launching a total smear campaign against me. I knew Lauren was out there making some nasty remarks, but I didn’t think Ryan would stoop so low.

“I don’t know, Ivy. I mean, c’mon.” Ben scratches the back of his head, squinting. “Why am I driving you to get on a plane to meet Will, the guy I just so happened to see you kissing in the Main Street diner last summer? You’re telling me that Eric is okay with this?”

“God, you were there that day?” I’m so sick of how small our town really is. Everybody knows everything about everybody.

“Yeah, and it pissed me off that the girl I was there with couldn’t take her eyes off of Will. I think every woman in the place wanted to jump him, but you were the one he kissed. So you definitely made an impression for being able to snag the guy all the girls wanted—not only once, but twice, if you count Eric,” Ben declares like he’s a prosecutor making a closing argument in a murder case. It seems like I’m guilty until proven innocent.

“I know how it must’ve looked, but it wasn’t like that. Will’s been playing a game with me my entire life. He was just toying with me that day to get what he wanted. It meant absolutely nothing.” My cheeks burn as I fall into the trap of defending myself.

“But it still doesn’t explain why you’re hopping on a plane to go and see him.” Ben sounds so smug like he has me all figured out, but all he’s doing is twisting my words and throwing them back at me.

“It’s strictly business. That’s it. Nothing more. I’m not leaving town because I want to. I’m going because I have to.” I cross my arms defiantly in front of my chest. Why won’t Ben even give me the benefit of the doubt? Is this really the way the whole town sees me? Or is it just him?

“Ivy, you gotta admit that it doesn’t look good. If you keep on making these kinds of moves, people are gonna talk.” His tone is consoling now, like he has my best interest at heart.

“What, are you friends with Ryan or something? Funny, he never mentioned hanging out with any dumb jocks.” If Ben’s going to patronize me, I don’t feel bad for insulting him.

“Huh, that’s funny,” he says, clearly mocking me. “I’m smart enough to figure you out.”

“But why are you being so hostile toward me? The only way I see it is that Ryan put you up to it because I never did anything for you to attack me like this. You don’t have all the details. You don’t know what really happened.” I can’t stop my voice from shaking, and he immediately picks up on it. It’s not cool to upset a pregnant woman, no matter how much of a thug he is.

“Well then, why don’t you tell me the whole story and maybe I can help. My last name isn’t Price but my word carries some weight in our town. I am the star quarterback, after all. But I need to know what you’re not telling me. I’m not going to vouch for you if I don’t have all the facts.” His eyes bore into mine and I can tell he’s being serious. He’s a handful, but I don’t think he’s malicious. He doesn’t know me. I’m pretty much a stranger to him. Of course he’s going to take Ryan’s side over mine.

Ben is an alpha male so he’s not led by the pack mentality that runs our town. He wants to think for himself. Maybe I should give him a chance. We’re probably just butting heads because he’s not used to being around a girl who speaks her mind. He’s more about the eye candy and getting down to business than having any real, meaningful conversations with a member of the opposite sex. All right, let’s take it slow and see how it goes.

“What’s the deal with you and Ryan? Are you friends with him?” I begin, feeling him out.

“He’s the punter on the football team this year, and he’s been talking a lot of smack about you in the locker room. The guys eat that shit up. At first, I think he only did it to get a rise out of me because he knows I work for Eric. But when I didn’t bite, he kept at it because the other guys were pumping him up, making him feel like he’s such a player when they’re really laughing at him behind his back.” Ben drops an arm onto his knee, driving with one hand. “You see, the Prices may be feared, but they’re not respected. People put up with their shit and kiss their asses to get a job or win an election. Stuff like that. But nobody really likes them.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I remark bitterly. “I’m ashamed to say I did the same thing.”

“Yeah, but when you’re put in the position of not having any other choice, you do what you gotta do whether you want to or not.” Ben’s more practical than I thought. He has a handle on how the town operates.

“But you’re probably wondering how I went from being lifelong friends with Ryan to being enemy number one.” I run a hand through my hair, nervous about what I’m going to reveal.

“The thought did cross my mind, and I assumed it had to do with your relationship with Eric, but there’s something else, isn’t there?” Ben is dying to know. I might as well tell him.

“Ryan tried to rape me then cover it up by having Lauren slander me in the Gazette by saying I was going to be arrested on some trumped-up charges. But it was all a smoke screen to get me away from Eric. Will was the one who let us in on their plan before it was too late. If not for Will, I’d probably be pregnant and alone somewhere. That’s why I’m dropping everything and flying across the country. I owe Will big time for what he did for me and Eric.” A light of understanding flickers in Ben’s eyes, like something I said just clicked with him.

“Eric found out what Ryan tried to do to you and beat the crap out of him, didn’t he?” Ben asks, even though he doesn’t need my confirmation. “Because Ryan was walking around town looking all banged up after the film festival, but no one could figure out what had happened to him. He said he fell down a flight of stairs but no one bought it.”

“Yeah, I gotta admit that I didn’t see it coming. I thought Ryan was my friend. I still can’t believe what he tried to do to me. I don’t think I ever will.” I wipe away the tears welling in my eyes with the back of my hand. I refuse to let Ben see me cry.

“So you didn’t hear about the girls’ swim team then?” Ben cocks his head to look at me.

“What about it?” I sniffle, afraid of where he is going with this.

“Ryan got caught spying on them when they were changing after a meet. He was almost suspended, but his father got him out of it. The coach who squealed on him lost his job, but that didn’t stop him from telling anyone who would listen. He didn’t keep quiet because he feels Ryan’s a threat.” Ben eyes me warily, waiting for me to figure out the implications behind his statement.

“You think I’m a coward for not reporting him to the police, don’t you?” It’s clear what he’s accusing me of, and on this matter, I am guilty. I can’t talk my way out of it because Ben’s right. I am a coward.

“I think you’re putting a lot of innocent girls in danger by not coming forward. I get the influence his family has and how they could ruin you, but aren’t they already doing that? What do you have to lose by going to the police?” Here I was, afraid that Ben was going to attack me, but instead he’s lecturing me on the merits of bringing a sexual deviant to justice. It just goes to show how paranoid I’ve become and how every guy’s actions have seemed suspicious to me, even when they’re not. Hell, ten minutes ago I was even afraid to be in his truck.

“I’ll consider it when I get back, all right?” I need Ben to meet my eyes to know I’m serious, but he waits a second or two before turning his head.

“Well, I really hope you change your mind because that coach who got fired was my brother.” The severity of what he’s telling me starts to sink in.

“Oh jeez, Ben. I didn’t know…” I tense up, realizing the ramifications.

“So you better think long and hard if you’re going to continue to keep silent or if you have the guts to tell the truth.” He seems disappointed in me for not doing the right thing, but he’s giving me a second chance to make amends.

I just don’t know if I’m ready to take him up on it.

Chapter Six

Eric

It’s after midnight and I still haven’t heard from Ivy.

I pace back and forth in front of the crackling fireplace, my phone clipped to my belt. I’ve left three messages, and she hasn’t called me back. Ben stopped by around quitting time to let me know that she’d made it to the terminal okay, but that’s about all I know. I don’t have Will’s number, so instead I booted up my laptop. Luckily, I was able to log into her email account since the computer remembered her password settings. I sent Will a quick line asking him to let me know that Ivy arrived safe and sound, but so far he hasn’t bothered to reply.

The woman I love is pregnant, traveling alone, and going to a place she’s never been. Of course I’m freaking out. Where the hell can Ivy be? She promised to call the moment her plane touched down in L.A. which should’ve been hours ago. Maybe I’ll look up the number of the airline and see if they can confirm that her flight arrived. It’s making me nervous not knowing where she is.

What if something happened to the plane? What if something’s wrong with the baby and she got rushed to the hospital? What if Will got into a car accident after picking her up?

Shep whines as I slam my fist against the mantle. Where is she? I slump to my knees, burying my head in my hands, when my phone rings.

Please let it be her.

“Where are you?” I growl into the receiver.

“I know you’re upset. Don’t worry. I’m okay. Everything’s fine.” The warmth in Ivy’s voice flows through me. It’s what I needed to hear. I can relax now. “I was in the restroom on the plane and I was shuffling through my purse when my phone fell in the toilet. The stewardess kept knocking on the door, telling me I had to get back to my seat because the captain had turned on the ‘fasten seatbelts’ sign. But you know how I have to pee all the time. I just couldn’t hold it. I was trying to hurry, but it was so cramped in there. Ugh, leave it to me to do something like that.”

“Why didn’t Will just let you use his phone when you landed?” I get to my feet and brace myself against the mantle lined with pictures of Ivy and me.

She doesn’t respond right away, and I don’t like it.

“Ivy?” I press her when she remains silent.

“Because he wasn’t waiting for me when I got off the plane,” she says, pissed to have to admit it.

“What?” I roar on the other end.

“He was about two hours late,” she says quietly, no doubt anticipating my reaction.

“Where the hell was he?” I’m furious. How can Will be such a jerk? I’m kicking myself inside. I never should have let her travel alone, leaving her in the hands of that self-absorbed prick.

“He claimed he was stuck in traffic, but I don’t think he bothered to confirm my arrival time. He seemed very preoccupied when he dropped me off at the hotel. Eric, the news he gave me isn’t the greatest,” she reveals, trying to stifle a yawn. I shouldn’t be keeping her up this late. She needs to rest. Even though there’s a three-hour time difference, she must be exhausted.

“Do you want to tell me now or wait until tomorrow?” I don’t want to push her if she’s tired.

“We might as well talk about it now while I’m all worked up. But don’t get mad if I fall asleep on you. I don’t know how long this spurt of energy is going to last,” she chuckles softly in my ear, making me want to kiss her so bad. I run my fingers over the glass of one of the photo frames, wishing she was here with me now, stretched out in front of the fire. It’s only been a few hours, but I miss her so much it hurts.

“I could never get mad at you,” I whisper, closing my eyes and imagining her next to me. “Tell me what he said.”

“To make a long story short, Lauren’s uncle, the one who’s a producer, found out that I made her the villain of the script and he’s threatening to sue or at the very least make sure the project doesn’t see the light of day. He knows who I am and how I’m living with you, and he’s out for blood. I guess he’s livid about the whole situation after seeing you make out with Lauren at the film festival. He read what I had written after Will started shopping the screenplay around, and he put two and two together when Will listed my name as the co-writer. Her uncle already thinks I upstaged Lauren once. There’s no way in hell he’s going to sit back and let me do it again.” Ivy sighs heavily as the full weight of what she’s telling me begins to sink in.

This is bad. Very bad. Now I know why Ivy didn’t let me read any of her drafts. She knew I wouldn’t approve of what she was doing. And boy, was she right.

“Ivy, what were you thinking, huh? How could you be so naïve?” I don’t mean to go off on her, but she quite possibly jeopardized our entire future doing what she did. If Lauren’s uncle goes on the attack, we certainly don’t have the means to fight him. We could lose everything—the house, the garden center, the little savings I have left. There’s no way we could mount a capable legal defense against some big, hotshot lawyer. We’d probably be run out of town on a rail if word got out that Ivy was writing about Lauren. People already feel sorry for Lauren after Ivy supposedly stole me away from her. Why give them any more ammunition?

“I honestly believed that no one would find out. I never in a million years thought that Will would submit the project to Lauren’s uncle after everything that went down. He’s just so desperate for someone to pick up the script. If he can’t get a producer to green-light it, he has nothing else to fall back on. He’s screwed. And the producers who were supposed to take it developed a case of cold feet when they heard about the trouble Lauren’s uncle’s threatening to stir up. No one is going to want to touch this project with a ten-foot pole if it’s only going to drag them into court.” I can hear her roll over in bed as she tries to get comfortable. After such a long day, all of this added stress isn’t good for her. I want to be there to massage the tension out of her shoulders and rub her aching feet, but I’m not. I’m three thousand miles away on the other side of the country. Why did I ever agree to let her do this?

“Ivy, you have to back out. Tell Will to take your name off the script and scrap it. There’s no way you can go forward now. It’s too risky.” I hope I’ll be able to talk some sense into her. I know Will is just going to be looking out for himself. Ivy can’t be blinded by the massive guilt trip he’s sure to unload on her. She has to worry about herself and not get caught up in his problems.

“That’s why Will wanted me out here. The producers who were interested in the script before all this controversy are giving us one more chance to turn it around. We have five days to come up with a brand new screenplay that has no mention of Lauren in it. There’s no way we can come up with something so fast off the top of our heads. It took us months to write the first one. So Will pitched them another idea, and they went for it. Problem is, I don’t think you’re going to like it.” I hear her toss and turn again, obviously distraught. I feel a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Oh no, what did Will do now?

“Do I even want to hear this?” I groan, raking a hand through my newly trimmed hair.

“Probably not,” she responds, her trepidation apparent. “I’m not sure I want to do it…let alone tell you about it.”

“That bad, huh?” I ask jokingly, trying to ease the tension.

“Eric, they want me to write the story of you and Cassidy,” she blurts out, whether I’m ready to hear it or not.

I don’t say anything for a good three seconds.

“You’ve got to kidding me.” It’s like she just sucker-punched me to the balls.

“I wish I were. But they latched on to the idea and they won’t let go. Will didn’t even discuss it with me before he approached them. And now that he has me here, he’s going to keep me writing day and night until we’ve got something to show them. I don’t know what to do, Eric. Should I just come home?” She’s close to tears, realizing the horrible position Will’s placed her in.

“If you do, what happens?” I need to know all of the details before I can offer her any advice. Will’s too smart not to have covered his ass.

“Then Will’s going to move ahead with the Lauren version of the script in the hope that he can find someone willing to battle her uncle in court. I guess people in the industry are already buzzing about it, and Will’s looking to capitalize on the notoriety, even if it’s not necessarily positive. He’s giving me this last chance of working on the rewrite as a way out. I either do it and he calls off the dogs or I don’t and he throws me headfirst into a legal shitstorm. Either way, I’m going to end up hurting you.” This time she can’t hold back her tears as she begins to sob.

“Ivy, I don’t want to see all the pain I went through marketed and sold like I’m trying to profit off Cassidy’s death. I couldn’t live with myself if I agreed to something like this. It makes my skin crawl.” I shouldn’t be so tough on Ivy, but there’s no way I can bite my tongue. Not when it’s about Cassidy. “But if I don’t comply with Will’s demands, then how in the world am I going to provide for our baby? Lauren’s uncle has the power to take everything away from us, everything I’ve worked so hard for.”

“Eric…I’m…so…sorry.” She can barely get the words out through her tears.

“I’m sorry too, Ivy.” I can’t deny that I’m disappointed in her. I should’ve made her show me the script. Maybe I could’ve prevented all of this if I had known what she was up to. Now my personal tragedy is once again going to be heralded as the nation’s favorite sob story. The agony Cassidy endured will be memorialized as nothing more than a stupid chick flick. I never thought I’d have to betray her memory like this. That’s why I stayed out of the limelight. That’s why I retreated into seclusion. That’s why I don’t speak to the media. I hate to even think like this, but if I’d never agreed to that Gazette interview with Ivy last summer, I wouldn’t be going through this right now. I let her in. Little did I know that I’d be giving up my right to privacy…as well as surrendering my heart.

“I can’t go through with it, Eric. It’s not right. I messed up and you shouldn’t have to pay the price for my mistake.” She’s trying to rally my spirits, but it’s too late. The damage is done. I’m just going to have to suffer through this somehow.

“Ivy, stop. I don’t like it. I don’t agree with it. But it’s happening. There’s nothing we can do about it now. My only consolation is that I know that Cassidy’s memory is in good hands if you’re the one writing the script. I know you will honor her story and tell it the way it needs to be told. If you fight Will on anything, I want you to maintain Cassidy’s integrity in how she is portrayed. Please don’t let them tarnish her image.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. I never expected things to unfold like this. I feel like someone just whacked me over the head with a two-by-four. Man, I need to sit down.

“Eric, I promise you that I’ll do whatever it takes.” The conviction in her voice is the only thing that’s sustaining me as I collapse onto the couch. I can’t take this out on her. She got caught in a bad situation. I love Ivy with all my heart, but sometimes she makes life so difficult. I thought with her I’d have a fresh start, but she keeps bringing me back to Cassidy. It’s like there are three people in this relationship instead of two. I have to try and get things back on track. I can’t end this call on such a sour note. I don’t want Ivy to fall asleep, thinking I’m angry with her. Despite it all, she needs to know I still love her no matter what.

“I wish this call had gone differently. I didn’t even get a chance to ask you what you’re wearing.” All I want to do is flirt with my sexy girlfriend and forget about everything else. We’ll deal with it in the morning. Now I want to put Ivy to bed—the right way.

“I’m in one of your shirts, of course…and I stole a pair of your boxers from your drawer before I left.” I can hear the smile in her voice. I grip the armrest of the couch, instantly hard. I know deep down we’re both still upset, but right now she’s giving me exactly what I crave.

“Your sweet pussy is resting right where I’m usually throbbing for you.” I shift my weight against the cushion, already straining against the pair I’m wearing now.

She gasps, breathing heavily. I can hear her rustling the sheet.

“Ivy, are you touching yourself?” I ask, sitting up straight.

“Yes,” she whispers, moaning, the frame of the bed creaking in the background.

“Tell me exactly what you’re doing,” I order her as I unzip my jeans.

“I’m straddling the side of the mattress. One leg is touching the floor and the other is bent on the bed. I’m digging my fingernails into the footboard, holding on for all its worth.” She’s panting, and I have a good idea what she’s up to. I caught her doing this once before on our bed, but she didn’t know I was watching her or I’m sure she would’ve stopped. Now she’s letting me in, sharing all of her dirty little secrets.

“Are you rubbing yourself over the edge of the mattress?” I ask, finally freeing myself from the confines of my jeans.

“Yes…” she replies, out of breath. “My shirt is off. All I have on are your boxers. My hair is tickling my swollen breasts, and I’m sliding myself over the edge again and again, gripping it with my thighs.”

“Hump it, baby, hump it.” I start to vigorously stroke my cock, trying to catch up to her.

“Uh, it’s not enough. I’m going to have to use my fingers. Hold on, your boxers are so snug.” The bed continues to squeak as she rides it. She’s trying to find her G-spot. I know how she likes a little pressure above her clit. She always goes crazy when I hit it just right.

“Keep…going.” I’m as breathless as she is now, and I jerk my hand up and down my dick, squeezing it harder.

“Almost…there,” she cries as the shaking of the bed increases. “I have my fingers pressed…firmly against me…the panel of your boxers holding them in place…as I work my hips…over the mattress…gripping it tighter…and tighter.”

“I’m right there with you, baby. You’re working me over just listening to you.” I sink lower on the couch. I forgot to shut the blinds before I started this and the glow from the fireplace has me perfectly illuminated. All I need is for someone to walk across my property and catch me jerking off. I’m in the middle of nowhere, but still.

“Oh God, Eric!” she yells, coming undone.

“I love hearing you come,” I groan against the phone, pressing it between my cheek and my shoulder. “It’s so fucking hot.”

“Are you close?” she asks, repositioning herself on the bed. “I just kicked off your boxers and I’m lying spread-eagle on the bed…buck naked. My arms are outstretched with my hands on the headboard and my legs are as far apart as they will go. I’m wide open for you.”

“Damn it, Ivy!” I shout as I explode in my hand.

She laughs into the phone as I lean my head back against the couch, desperately trying to get some air into my lungs.

“That was just what I needed,” she whispers, spent and satisfied.

“Me too.” I stare blankly at the firelight dancing across the ceiling.

“I don’t want to hang up,” she confesses.

“Neither do I. I could do this all night long.” Just as I say that, the clock on the wall strikes one, bringing me back to reality. “But you need your rest. You’re in for a long couple of days.”

“I’m getting a new phone first thing in the morning. I’ll call you as soon as it’s up and running. Eric, I don’t want to lose contact with you again, not even for a second,” she moans, and I can hear her pulling the sheet over her body.

“Ivy, I love you so much.” I run my hand down my face, sad that my stubble is already starting to grow back.

“I love you too, Eric. Ever so much,” she says before kissing the mouthpiece of the hotel room phone.

“Sweet dreams,” I murmur, looking at her picture on the mantle.

“Thanks to you,” she replies softly before hanging up.

When I hear the click of her disconnecting from me, I hit the end button on my phone, tossing it aside. The ache I feel for her is never ending. What we just did alleviated it somewhat, but I know it won’t be completely soothed until she’s back in my arms.

Chapter Seven

Ivy

I wake to a sharp knock on the door.

I blink groggily, reaching for Eric. I go to nudge him, but he’s not here. Damn it. That’s right, I’m in L.A. I shiver under the thin sheet, suddenly feeling chilled. I’m used to having the warmth of Eric’s arms wrapped around me. I don’t like waking up alone in a strange bed. A pang stabs my heart. All I want to do is curl up and go back to sleep.

The knocking continues, this time accompanied by Will’s voice.

“Ivy, c’mon. It’s seven o’clock. Let’s go.” Saying that he’s impatient would be an understatement. He’s not going to stop. I might as well get up and face him.

I reluctantly pull myself out of bed and shuffle toward the door. So far, my stomach isn’t on a rampage. Maybe I won’t have to start the day headfirst in a toilet bowl. But why is it so frigid in here? I need to turn down the A.C. or something. I rub my arms, trying to dispel the goose bumps. I have my hand on the door handle, ready to open it when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, nipples standing at attention. Jeez, no wonder I’m cold. I don’t have a stitch of clothing on. My face heats up when I remember why.

Having phone sex with Eric was simply incredible. It makes me want to close my eyes and relive what it was like to have him groaning in my ear thousands of miles away. How he made me come with just his voice was pretty amazing. He caught me masturbating that way once before. At the time, I knew he was spying on me because I heard him breathing heavily just outside our bedroom door. Thinking back, I could readily imagine the heat of his eyes on my back, watching me. I wanted to turn around and take him then, but this was so much better. It was intense combining the two experiences in my mind. Last night I was screaming his name within minutes, even if I had to help myself along. Getting him to admit his voyeurism will give us a lot to experiment with when I get home.

“Ivy, I’m going to get the maid to let me in if you don’t open up,” Will threatens from the other side of the door. Thank goodness for deadbolts.

Scrambling to yank Eric’s shirt over my head, I pull it as low as it will go, regretting that Will’s going to have to see me like this. It’s not the first time he’s seen me scantily clad, and I hate that it’s becoming a habit.

“What?” I growl, throwing open the door. But Will’s not even startled as he lounges against the doorframe, running his eyes up and down my body. He’s gazing at me so lustfully that I look down to make sure I really do have Eric’s shirt on.

“I can’t believe you’re not even dressed yet. We have an eight o’clock breakfast meeting with Warren, Dave, and their new investor.” His tone is all business, but the way he’s looking at me sure isn’t. He leans in closer, making me take a step back. He seizes the opportunity, brushing past me to enter the room. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“Maybe because you never even told me about it,” I huff, exasperated by how he keeps leaving me out of the loop.

“Well, you’d better hurry. They’re meeting us in the hotel restaurant, but you look like you could really use a shower, and I have to brief you on some stuff before we go down,” he mutters, plopping on the unmade bed before reaching for the remote.

“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” I stick my tongue out at him. “You think you’re just gonna wait in here until I’m done? I don’t think so.”

“Ivy, chill. Trust me, it’s better if we walk in together and present a united front. These kinds of meetings are all about appearances. Even though you’re not all that thin anymore, we can still wow them by making an entrance they won’t soon forget.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen as he flips between MTV and the E! Channel.

“So you’re selling my body as well as my talent, huh? If I had known, I would’ve made sure to reschedule that boob job I keep putting off.” I roll my eyes, sickened by how superficial he is. If this is how L.A. operates, I don’t want any part of it.

“Actually, your boobs look fucking fantastic. That’s the one thing your pregnancy has going for it. That and the practically see-through shirt you’re wearing.” He leers at me as I try to cover myself by crossing my arms in front of my protruding chest. I wince slightly. They’re still so sensitive. Eric would know how to make them feel better, but Eric’s not here.

“Do you intend to be a perv the whole time I’m in L.A.?” I glare at him as I bend over to rustle through my suitcase.

“With a view like that? Hell yeah!” He whistles, nudging the polished toe of his shoe against my ass.

“Will, knock it off,” I cry, standing up. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says, loosening his tie. “You always imagined what it would be like to have a hotel room all to ourselves. Prom night might’ve come a little later than expected, but I’m here now.”

“You’re a real jackass, you know that?” I give him a shove, and he falls dramatically across the bed.

“Ivy, you’re so boring,” he chuckles. “Don’t you ever lighten up? A little harmless flirtation never hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, except the people involved,” I mumble, slipping my toiletry bag over my shoulder. “Will, get it through your thick skull. I’m not into you anymore. I’ve moved on, and I don’t intend to waste another second of my life flirting with you.”

He grunts when I slam the bathroom door and doesn’t respond with any more witty remarks. Good. If he thinks he’s going to mess with me the entire time I’m here, he’s sadly mistaken. He should be kissing my swollen feet for coming all the way out here instead of baiting me into arguments he knows he can’t win. I’m not his plaything anymore. I never was.

After a rushed shower with terrible water pressure, I turn on the blow dryer. It’s as steamy as a sauna in here, but there’s no way I’m giving Will the satisfaction of stepping outside so he can fondle me with his eyes. He’d love to make me uncomfortable since I only have a fluffy towel wrapped around my body.

“Ivy, are you almost done in there? We have like fifteen minutes, and I really need to talk to you.” Will’s no longer perched on the bed. His voice sounds way too close, like he’s standing right outside the bathroom door.

“Well, I still have to do my makeup. So talk.” I slip a billowy sundress over my head. It’s one of the few dressy items I own that still fits me. I just hope it’s trendy enough for L.A. because it’s ultra comfortable and it camouflages my baby bump. I don’t know if Will told our would-be producers that I’m pregnant, so I don’t want to shock them with any more unexpected revelations. Having Lauren’s uncle scare them with a lawsuit was enough of a surprise. But the dress is pretty low cut. I’ll have to wear a denim jacket over it to tone down my newly abundant cleavage. I need Will to concentrate on nailing this meeting and not on my chest.

“Ivy, you are so frustrating. You know that? You make me want to pound my head against the wall.” As if to emphasize his point, Will does just that.

“Stop it, you moron! You’re gonna make it look like I beat you up or something. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to, but you did say it was all about keeping up appearances.” I chuckle as I raise the mascara wand to my eyelashes. Oh, how I enjoy throwing his words back in his face.

“Ha ha ha, very funny, Ivy. But listen, you’re going to have to turn down the sarcasm, all right? I don’t know too much about this new investor, so I need you to say as little as possible until I get a feel for the situation, okay? Warren and Dave are cool, but they’re gonna need the financial backing to protect their investment if we move forward. Variety and Entertainment Weekly already had blurbs on their websites about how they’re considering our screenplay. Everyone’s wondering what these guys are going to do next. After winning the Oscar last year, they’re like the hottest producers in Hollywood. Whatever they touch turns to gold. Their movies might not rack up huge numbers at the box office but critics can’t get enough of them. That’s why Warren and Dave want more financial clout before diving into this. Even though, they love controversy. It’s what drives them.” Will voice is adamant, like he’s clearly enamored with them, but I’m not so sure. They like controversy? What if they intend to inject some of that adrenaline junkie mentality into the screenplay? I promised Eric I wouldn’t sell Cassidy out, but what if I lose control of the project? Suddenly I don’t feel so good about this.

Slowly, I step out of the bathroom, my dress sticking to my back. It was too steamy in there to get my hair completely dry, so I pulled it into a messy bun. Now I wish it were covering my shoulders. I feel so exposed as Will feasts his eyes on my voluptuous curves. His unabashed scrutiny—of what doesn’t belong to him—makes me what to take another shower to wash off his horniness. Was he always this sleazy or am I just noticing it now after basking in the glow of Eric’s love?

“Will, you have to promise me that I’ll maintain creative control over the screenplay or I’m not going downstairs. Eric was gracious enough to agree to your compromise, but I’m not going to make this any harder on him than I have to. He’s being way more generous than either of us deserve.” I poke Will in the chest as he hovers over me, forcing me to breathe in his expensive sandalwood cologne. He’s crisp, sharp, and polished. Everything Eric is not. Before I would’ve swooned over how perfect he looks, but now I know better. Rugged, natural, and unassuming is way more of a turn on.

“Oh, baby. You are going to slay them in that dress.” Will whistles in appreciation. “What are you doing? Don’t go covering yourself up. I was only teasing.” He frowns as I slide my jacket onto my bare shoulders.

“I am not showing up to a business meeting like I’m spending a day at the beach. Too much skin will make a bad first impression. I want them to take me seriously.” I rummage through my purse, searching for my phone when it dawns on me that I don’t have it anymore. As soon as the meeting ends, I’m remedying the situation pronto. I need to hear Eric’s voice.

“Ivy, honey. They’re never going to take you seriously. You’re just my bit on the side who’s helping me focus my creative energy. I’m top dog on the project. They think you’re only here to blow me if I get mired in a case of writer’s block. The better you look, the more credible our story becomes.” His hand is on the small of my back, just about skimming my ass as he ushers me out the door.

I’m outraged. All I want to do is give him a piece of my mind, dig in my heels, and refuse to budge. I’m on the verge of throwing a full-on tantrum when the elevator bings and the door slides open, revealing a car full of trendy twentysomethings. Exposed midriffs, tattoos, and piercings are intermingled with Rolex watches, designer jeans, and thousand-dollar handbags. I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore.

They look us up and down before a svelte blonde with an immaculate Brazilian blowout steps aside to let us on. Apparently we passed some kind of test. Will boards the elevator like he owns the place, dragging me along with him. In my heels, I stumble over the grate, but luckily Will’s hold on my waist keeps me from face-planting into a dude wearing a leather jacket that’s probably worth more than my car.

“Somebody’s still a little tipsy,” the guy chides, holding his Starbucks cup aloft. “Looks like you two had one hell of a night.”

Everyone snickers and I am mortified. The guy even fist bumps Will with his free hand. Being young and hot in L.A. isn’t gratifying. It’s humiliating. I’ve never felt so objectified in my entire life. I want to go off on this guy’s scrawny little ass, but Will grabs my finger, giving it a squeeze. I glare up at him as he imperceptively shakes his head. I don’t care if standing up for myself is a major faux pas. The drivel spewing from this guy’s mouth is beyond rude. It’s offensive.

“We did, bro. We did.” Will cocks an eyebrow, to check out the leggy brunette the guy is with. “I’m sure you can say the same.”

“Life’s too short to sleep alone. You know what I’m saying?” He slides his hand up the back of the brunette’s gauzy shirt, as if to claim his territory, as Will continues to eye her up. She stands there stock-still, looking bored. I can’t see her eyes because they’re hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but she doesn’t seem to be batting an eyelash, even though they’re talking about her like she’s not even there.

“Can you imagine the type of orgy we could have in here if we stopped the elevator?” chimes in another guy who looks like he could be a freaking Abercrombie model.

“Now that’d be fucking hot,” responds a tall, mocha-skinned girl standing next to me, licking her lips.

Just when I’m at my breaking point, the elevator bell rings twice, sliding open to reveal the lobby. I take a deep breath as I step out, trying to calm my rattled nerves. Is everyone in L.A. so sex-obsessed? I jump when I feel someone’s hand lightly skim my ass as everyone moves out of the elevator. I quickly turn around, but I can’t tell if it was a girl or a guy who felt me up.

“Welcome to Hollywood, Ivy,” Will says with a smirk. “Where your looks are the biggest commodity you possess. I think you wound that whole elevator up the minute you stepped inside. You’re going to have this town eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Will, stop making it sound like I’m sexual catnip,” I protest, following him toward the restaurant.

“Ivy, baby. I’m not making it up. You’re a force to be reckoned with. I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or what, but you’re emitting these vibes that are fucking irresistible. You’re going to be giving every guy within a ten-foot radius a painful case of blue balls.” He dodges as I try to smack him, laughing wholeheartedly at how flustered I am.

“Name, please.” The hostess gives us the once-over, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. She long-limbed and glowing like she just stepped out of the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

I feel so self-conscious. Will has to be playing another one of his mind games. There’s no way anyone’s looking at me when there are so many beautiful people walking around this city. For practically all of my life, I’ve been invisible to Will. He’s just trying to butter me up so he can manipulate me in front of our potential bosses. He wants to show that he’s the one in control by dominating me in front of them. Like I’m nothing more than a living sex toy bent on his amusement. Think again, Will. This girl’s too smart for that.

“Carter. Will Carter.” He slips the hostess one of his cards along with a twenty. “We don’t have a reservation, but I was hoping you could squeeze us in.”

I glare up at Will, but like a snake charmer, he doesn’t break eye contact with his prey. I’m fuming. If this is such an important meeting, why is he being so casual about it? He better get his shit together. I can’t work with someone who’s not going to take this as seriously as I am. There’s too much at stake.

“Just two?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Nah, more like five,” Will remarks nonchalantly, pushing his luck.

“Well, that might be more than I can handle,” she pouts, biting the tip of her pen. “Unless you’re willing to make it up to me.”

“How about tonight?” Will doesn’t even try to contain the grin spreading across his face. He’s well versed in this kind of dance. He made the opening move, but now he’s letting her take the lead. I watch in utter amazement at how quickly it all unfolds. “Seven o’clock?” Will questions, opening the calendar app on his phone. Give me a break. He can make the effort when it comes to a complete stranger, but he couldn’t use his perfectly manicured finger to tap in the arrival time of my flight? It figures. Different city, same old Will.

“Let’s say more like eight. I have a yoga class after work that I don’t want to miss.” Ugh, she wants to limber up before spending the night with him. He clearly gets what her saucy implication implies because his smile widens, showing teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Too bad she didn’t see him as a thirteen-year-old with neon-colored elastic bands strung through his braces. I sure did.

“Done,” Will proclaims as a whoosh issues from his phone. “Be sure to text me your address…” he pauses, like he’s done this a million times.

“Becky,” she replies, winking at him before guiding us to a table in a secluded alcove, sunlight streaming through the window.

These random hookups come way too easily for him. They always have. He never has to work for it. Women just fall in his lap.

Becky lightly drapes her hand across Will’s shoulders as he takes a seat. “Enjoy your meal,” she whispers in his ear before heading back to her station.

“You are so smooth, it’s sickening.” I pretend to gag as I look over the menu.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He tugs on the lapel of his jacket, straightening out the crease where she touched him.

“Yeah, but why couldn’t you be like a normal person and make a reservation?” I can’t help but ask as I try to figure out the difference between the vegetarian and vegan options.

“Because it’s a lot more fun to live life on the edge.” His eyes are sparkling as I look up to see if he’s teasing me.

“And a lot more expensive,” I counter. “You’re already twenty bucks in the hole and you haven’t even taken her out yet.”

“Who said I was taking her out?” he fires back, making me blush.

“You’re too much,” I mutter as he laughs at my discomfort.

“Will, there you are! What are you doing hiding way back here? Or should I say who are you hiding? OMG, Davey! It’s Sookie Stackhouse!” A stylishly dressed man with a silk scarf hanging around his neck saunters over to our table. He appears to be in his late thirties although his skin is in fantastic shape. His face is as smooth as porcelain, so he could be older than he looks. I don’t think he’s had any work done, but his dermatologist is to be commended.

Next to him, holding his hand is a robust man probably in his mid-fifties. He’s the first overweight person I’ve seen in L.A., and there’s no hiding his receding hairline. The two of them seem like a mismatched pair, but by the way they’re beaming at each other, it’s obvious they’re in love.

“Warren, behave,” Will warns, rising to shake hands. “This is Miss Ivy Thompson, the muse who sparks my colorful imagination.”

“Ignore him, Ivy. My husband has a vampire fetish that’s pretty ingrained.” The older one, who I assume is Dave, takes my hand and kisses it. “It’s lovely to meet such a fine young lady.”

“No wonder you weren’t answering my texts, Will,” Warren scolds, sitting primly beside him. “I can see why you were distracted.”

“What texts?” Will appears puzzled. Not a good sign.

“The ones about the investor meeting us here. She’s coming directly from the airport,” Dave responds like he’s used to answering questions addressed to his husband.

“What’s her name?” I ask Dave in order to prevent Will from shutting me out of the conversation.

“See, that’s the thing. We don’t know. She wanted to keep things hush hush in case there’s a lawsuit pending. She works for a venture capitalist in New York. Her boss got wind of the project and had her contact us anonymously. It’s an unorthodox approach, but we investigated the firm and it’s legit. If they’re willing to pony up a few million dollars, we don’t care if they want to communicate with a secret decoder ring. Having a financial cushion is imperative with the risks associated with this project. But I think we’re going to bite the bullet and produce this film because what you’ve come up with so far is phenomenal.” Dave pats my shoulder before shaking out his napkin and placing it on his lap.

“You know that I wrote it?” I stare at him in amazement.

“Will’s not that smart,” Warren deadpans.

“Hey!” Will interjects.

“Honey, you are incredibly nice to look at, but you can’t even compose a coherent email much less an entire script. You can’t blind us with your charms, darling. You’re not that good of an actor.” Warren rests his chin in his hand to gaze adoringly at Will.

Will’s face turns scarlet. He’s mad, sure. But I know how he really is. He might be humoring Warren and Dave when it comes to advancing his career, but there’s no way in hell that he enjoys having a grown man ogle him in public. Will hates being considered a pretty boy. He must get hit on by guys all the time out here—but to have me witness it is another story. He must be ready to spit nails.

Warren’s iPhone chimes on the table and Dave picks it up, breaking the tension.

“She’s here,” Dave remarks. “Damn, I so wanted to order a soy latte before she arrived. I hate to talk business before my third cup of the day.”

“I’ll make sure you get it, Davey. Just hang in there a little longer,” Warren murmurs, patting Dave’s hand.

“Yeah, Davey. Hang in there. I assure you that what I have to say won’t take long.”

My jaw hits the floor when I recognize the voice of the person standing behind me. I make a move to turn around, but familiar hands land on my shoulders, anchoring me in place.

For the first time in his life, Will looks scared.

“You must be…” Dave begins.

“Lauren Price from LPR and Associates.”

At the mention of her name, Warren gasps, instantly making the connection, and I cringe as she digs her red fingernails into my jacket.

I should’ve known she’d be out for blood.

Chapter Eight

Eric

It’s mid-afternoon and still no word from Ivy.

I’ve left so many messages with the front desk that the receptionist told me to stop calling. I flooded Will’s inbox with emails. I tried Ivy’s cell number to check if her new phone was up and running, but it’s not. I’m at my wit’s end. Something’s up. I can feel it.

To take my mind off things, I decided to leave Ben in charge of the last two hayrides and asked my dad to ring up any purchases before locking up for the night. It’s better if I just go home. I’m only driving everyone nuts at the garden center, yelling at kids for getting underfoot and smashing a row of pumpkins after mistakenly throwing the tractor in reverse. I’m running on empty after what turned out to be a very long night. I couldn’t fall sleep, not without Ivy beside me. I’m used to having her pressed up against me. A balled-up pillow just doesn’t cut it.

Shep whines at my feet, and I give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He’s the only one who can put up with me when I get like this. He’s seen me at my worst, so this little episode is nothing for him. Ivy’s alive. She’s fine. I just have to keep telling myself that and calm the fuck down.

I’m able to function better if I stay busy and keep my mind occupied, so I head to the woodshed out back. It was my refuge from the world during those long and lonely months when I was working on the house. I started something new a little while ago and I want to make sure I finish it before Ivy returns. It’s part of the surprise I plan on giving her when she gets back.

I smooth a strip of sandpaper over the solid oak surface, making sure to remove any trace of a splinter. I test the rockers again and they move easily, not too little, not too much. All I have to do is apply the special non-toxic varnish and it’ll be all set—the crib for our baby.

I just wish I could forget what happened to the last one I built.

* * *

It was the night of Cassidy’s death. I was alone with a bottle of whiskey sitting in the bare bones of our house while the rain was pouring outside. I couldn’t believe that she was actually gone and that our baby would never get the chance to live. I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I barreled up the planks serving as a temporary staircase and charged into the shell of a room that was to be the nursery. I trudged through a thick pile of sawdust and grabbed the crib. It was placed in the middle of the floor, awaiting the baby it would never hold.

Rushing back downstairs, I hurled it with all my might against the stone fireplace, dashing it to pieces. But that wasn’t enough. Even though it was July, I worked frantically to get a fire going in the hearth. It was dangerous to strike a match around so much untreated wood, especially with the wind raging through the chimney, but I didn’t care. I’d never get to bury my child. Cassidy’s womb would serve as its final resting place. I had to make some kind of offering to show how much I’d lost.

It didn’t take long to get a good blaze going even with the rain trickling down the eaves. I was like a madman, determined to finish the job. The elements of nature were not going to stand in my way. I was beyond them now, in a hell of my own making.

I picked up the broken shards of the crib and tossed them one by one into the fire. My chest constricted when I saw the border of flowers I’d engraved burst into flames. I was going to explain to our baby what I did for a living by tracing its pudgy fingers over the carvings of the rose and the daisy next to the tulip and the sunflower. So many hours of love went into the creation of that crib. I’d poured my heart and soul into it. That’s where our baby was going to dream sweet dreams and grow into a strong and healthy toddler. Cassidy and I were going to keep it beside our bed, ready to respond at the first hint of a whimper.

I cast a long shadow as I stood there and watched it burn. My tears mixed with the soot on my face, making me feel like a gravedigger of a different variety. I was accustomed to cultivating life and watching things grow. I had no idea how to handle being on the opposite end of the spectrum, glorying in the death and destruction of everything I held dear.

In that moment, I came to a stark realization. I needed a break. I was on the brink of diving into a deep, dark place I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out of. If I’d willingly jumped into the abyss, there’d be no saving me. I would have been lost forever. If I’d ended my life out of despair, I’d forever be separated from Cassidy and our baby, in this life and the next. I couldn’t give up on the possibility of one day being reunited with them in heaven. I’m not an overly religious guy but I knew I’d never forgive myself for going down a path of self-destruction, no matter how much I just wanted the pain of life to stop.

* * *

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory and how close I came to taking my life on that storm-swept night. I’ve come so far in the last two and a half years. I have Ivy. I have a new baby on the way. The house is finished. The garden center is thriving. I have so much to be thankful for. But there’s one last thing that will make it all complete.

“C’mon, Shep,” I call out, patting the side of my leg after putting the varnish away. “It’s time.”

I yank the chain dangling from the exposed light bulb in the woodshed and snap the padlock on the door while Shep fidgets beside me. I take off at a run and Shep races me to my truck. There’s a lightness to my step when I think about the errand we are going on.

I look up at the house and really take it in. Even though Ivy isn’t here, I feel her presence all around me. Her muddy clogs rest near the flowerbed she was digging up for winter. Her rocking chair faces mine from the last time I massaged her feet. Next to the koi pond she loves so much, her junker of a car is parked—badly in need of a new transmission we just can’t afford. Thankfully what I’m after doesn’t require money. It’s something that’s been in my family for generations, and now it’s going to be hers.

Hoisting myself behind the wheel, I let Shep jump onto my lap and crawl over me. He gets to ride shotgun because Ivy isn’t here and his ears prick up, showing his excitement. His tongue slobbers across my face as he gives me a big ol’ sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Gee, thanks,” I chuckle, pulling him away by the collar. “You missed having me all to yourself, didn’t you?”

But Shep’s anxious to get going as he moves over to look out the window, swatting me in the face with his tail as he goes by.

“All right, to grandmother’s house we go.” I exclaim, heading down the road with a smile on my face.

From the moment I swept Ivy off her feet, I pictured making this journey. Driving to my parents’ house. Asking for my grandmother’s ring. Placing it on Ivy’s finger. Showing her how much I’ve come to care about her—first with my words, then with my body. Since the day we met, I’ve hoped that this would be where we’d end up. Call me a fool. Call me old-fashioned. Call me crazy. The instant I held her in my arms, I knew I wanted to live again.

I thought that I was done with romance, that I’d had my shot at love. But one look at her and I was a goner. I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t looking for it. But there she was—the gift I’d never intended to receive. Nestled in those sparkling green eyes, life was giving me a second chance.

Up until then, getting through each day felt like I was holding my breath underwater, just waiting to drown. But the way she looked at me pulled me to the surface, out of the murky depths. I was clumsy at first, gasping and sputtering, relearning how to breathe and what it felt like to be alive. But she was patient with me, showing me how to bask in the warm glow of daylight again. Just being around her rejuvenated my spirit, like she was the lifeguard of my soul.

Lost in my daydreams of Ivy, I can’t believe we’re already here as I beep the horn at the base of the rocky trail leading to my parents’ house. It takes so long to creep up the uneven terrain that it became a habit to honk at the gate. My dad likes to be standing at the door, treat in hand, ready to greet Shep when he arrives. So I always have to give him a heads-up when his ‘grand-dog’ is on the way. Beside me, Shep is already going nuts.

I chuckle to myself when I see my dad in his suspenders sitting outside. He has his glasses perched up top of his head, and he looks worn out. He’s been having those headaches again. I should’ve manned up and completed the shift at the garden center instead of bothering him about it.

He smiles when we pull up, but I still feel guilty. I’m going to have to get a better grip on my emotions. I can’t keep putting him through this. He’s seen enough of my moods to last a lifetime.

“There’s my buddy,” he says, opening the car door to let Shep out. “I have your Milk-Bone all ready for you.”

“You have that dog spoiled rotten,” I mutter, joining them as we walk inside. “I can just imagine how you’re going to be when you have a real grandchild to fawn over.”

“Did your mom tell you about the stuffed giraffe we came across the other day?” he asks, rubbing his hands together. “It’s eight feet tall and its neck goes all the way to the ceiling.”

“You didn’t buy it, I hope.” I groan audibly as we enter the kitchen, and I give my mom a kiss.

“Of course we did, sweetie. How could we pass something like that up?” my mom exclaims, grinning at me.

“Don’t you think it might scare the baby? I want my child to feel safe in the nursery, especially after all the hours I spent making the crib,” I argue, even though it’s a lost cause. I already have visions of strapping the stuffed monstrosity to the back of my truck, fuzzy neck and all. There’s no getting out of it now.

“Oh good! So you did finish it.” My mom’s face lights up. “It’s on to step two then?”

“That’s why I’m here. I plan on proposing to Ivy the minute she steps off that plane.” My chest fills with pride. I want nothing more than to make Ivy my wife. Sure, we’re living together, and she just so happens to be carrying my child. But there’s something about walking down the aisle and making it official. I want to share everything I have with her. My name. My heart. My life.

“Did you hear from her yet?” my dad asks softly after having seen me go off the rails earlier today. I was ready to freak out after a little girl toppled over a whole bushel of apples, sending them sprawling across the floor. My nerves at that point were razor thin. My dad knew I didn’t need any more aggravation. He simply patted me on the back as I walked out the door.

I hate having to ask people for help, but I learned that sometimes it’s necessary, especially when I’m feeling overly stressed and at my breaking point. It’s no good flying off the handle when all I need is a few quiet moments to myself. Since my blow-up with Ivy for wearing Cassidy’s shirt, my dad made me realize what my limitations are. I can’t let life push me that far or let certain things trigger my meltdowns. I can’t always be in control, but I have to remember to step back and breathe whenever I start to feel overwhelmed. If I don’t, I only end up hurting the ones I love.

“No, and I tried every way I could think of to get in touch with her,” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Suddenly I feel as haggard as my dad looks.

“I bet she couldn’t get to a phone store, honey, and she was most likely out of her hotel room all day. Will’s probably running her ragged, the poor thing.” I sense the concern in my mom’s voice, and I have no doubt she’s thinking what I’m thinking. Such a hectic schedule would be a strain on a regular person, never mind someone who’s pregnant. My worries keep multiplying as the minutes tick by.

“If you don’t hear from her by tonight then we call the cops.” My dad shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “No fooling around.”

“Frank—” my mom warns with a groan.

“I’m serious, Nancy. If that boy is gonna take our Ivy away and not even let her call home, we have the right to sic the LAPD on his ass.” He stomps his foot, causing Shep to howl. “See? Even the dog thinks I’m right.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, dear. Now c’mon, Eric. Let’s go upstairs and get that ring and think some happy thoughts for a change.” She shoots my dad that look she always gives him when he’s gone too far, and he instantly falls silent. “There, that’s better. I thought he’d never shut up.” She giggles, and I just shake my head as we start to climb the stairs. My dad means well, but sometimes he overdoes it. I don’t think there’s any need to file a missing person’s report on Ivy—not yet at least.

I thought our destination was going to be the jewelry box on top of her nightstand, so I’m surprised when she ushers me into my childhood bedroom instead. There are no longer any football trophies on the desk or blue ribbons from the fair tacked to the mirror. After Cassidy died and I moved out for good, my mom packed everything away for when I was ready to look at it again. So much of my life was interwoven with Cassidy’s that it hurt to be reminded of all the memories we shared.

Stepping back into my old room, it feels like a different person lived here. A boy buoyed by hopes and dreams he thought for sure would come true. Reentering this space, I realize just how much I’ve changed. I’m a man now, hardened by experience and strengthened by love. I don’t take so much for granted anymore. I cherish each and every blessing in my life because I know how easily they can be taken away. I’m wary, but I’m hopeful. Loving, losing, and loving again has taught me a lot. Life has knocked me down, but it has also picked me back up. A moment spent wallowing in despair is a moment I’ll never get back. Life’s too short to waste pining over the past. I’d rather look ahead to the future. And thanks to Ivy, I’m able to do that now. My spirit was tested, but it didn’t break. If my struggles somehow strengthened me, then it was her love that saved me. Without going through the heartache, I wouldn’t have the joy.

“What are we doing in here, Mom?” I ask, scratching my head.

“Sit down,” she responds, patting the new comforter.

Even though the room’s been redecorated, the bed’s still in the same place. I instantly flashback to all of the conversations I’ve had with my mom in here when I was growing up—how she boosted my confidence the night before the SATs, lifted my spirits after a season-ending loss on the football field, scolded me for scratching during a nasty bout of chicken pox. Looking back, she was always there when I needed her, and I intend to do the same for my child.

“It feels weird being in here,” I admit, looking around at a room I barely recognize.

“Good weird or bad weird?” she asks, pulling a velvet box out of her pocket.

“I don’t know. Just weird,” I confess, distracted by what she has in her hand. “Is that it?”

“Yep, your grandma’s ring,” she says, snapping it open to reveal the simple diamond solitaire. “Even though she never got a chance to meet Ivy, I know she would be proud to have her wear this.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, removing it from the satin cushion holding it in place. It looks so delicate resting on my palm. “But what if it’s not the right size? I mean, Ivy’s fingers are pretty swollen due to the pregnancy. I don’t want to mess this up by asking her to marry me then having to force the ring over her knuckle or something. I want it to be perfect.”

“Well, Eric, I think you’re going to have to wing it.” My mom pats my arm consolingly. “Besides, Ivy will probably want to wait until after she has the baby to have it sized. For now, she can always wear it on a chain around her neck.”

I try to hide my disappointment. My mom is only being realistic. There’s no way a jeweler can size it in time anyway. It’s just that I want to give Ivy a proposal she’ll remember for the rest of her life. No glitches. No screw-ups. And a ring that fits. But I guess it could be kind of sexy if I found a chain long enough for the ring to rest on her baby bump. I have to admit there’s something incredibly romantic about that.

“She knows this isn’t my first time doing this. That’s why I have to make sure it’s extra special,” I confess. This is one of those times where I’m glad I can tell my mom anything and she’ll understand.

“Does she know that you didn’t propose to Cassidy with this ring?” she asks, looking at me expectantly.

“It never came up,” I say ruefully. “Do you think that’s the first thing she’s going to think about when I ask her?”

“It probably won’t be the first thing that crosses her mind, but it’ll definitely be the second,” she states matter-of-factly, taking the ring from my fingers and placing it back in the box.

“Cassidy was just more of a girly-girl type. She insisted on picking out her own ring.” I shrug, not really understanding the ins and outs of the female brain. “When I approached her about wearing grandma’s ring, it’s not like she thought a quarter caret was too small…”

“But she dreamed of something bigger?” my mom replies knowingly, tilting her head.

“Exactly. But I never imagined how much it would cost. I only wanted Cassidy to be happy.” I furrow my brow, contemplating what I should do. “But this ring means a whole lot more to me. It always did. This is the one I see Ivy wearing, but I don’t want her to think I’m cheapening out on her.”

“Eric! She would never think that,” my mom admonishes. “I’ve gotten to know Ivy quite well over these past few months and I know she will cherish the sentimental value this ring holds.”

“You don’t think she’s going to compare it to the one I gave Cassidy? I mean, our engagement picture was everywhere. Ivy must have seen it.” I search my mom’s eyes, begging her to tell me the truth.

“Want my honest advice?” I silently nod my head, and she continues. “Take your time proposing to Ivy. Go somewhere quiet where the two of you can be alone. Start by telling her the story of how your grandfather proposed to your grandmother. Then, when you put the ring on her finger, it will mean so much more.”

“So you’re nixing my idea to get down on one knee in the middle of the airport?” I ask with a wry grin.

“Ivy is going to be so tired when she gets off the plane, Eric. What’s the rush?” she asks, getting to her feet. “No one likes to feel ambushed, especially when it comes to something as important as this. Wait a couple of days. Then take her somewhere special.”

“You do realize that if I can’t afford a diamond ring, then a trip to Paris is out of the question.” I nudge my mom with my elbow, following her out the door.

“I’m not talking about Paris, you knucklehead,” she scolds, swatting my arm as we approach the steps. “I was thinking a little closer to home, somewhere like the Hideaway Cliffs.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Mom, you are brilliant!”

“I do have some good ideas from time to time. Don’t I, Frank?” she teases as we get to the bottom of the stairs and find my father snoring on the couch next to Shep.

I’m just about to laugh along with her when my phone rings. It’s an L.A. area code. I exhale for the first time today. Finally, I’ll get to hear Ivy’s voice.

“Ivy?” I say breathlessly into the receiver.

But it’s not Ivy. I turn slightly away from my parents to try and comprehend what I’m being told. My dad is fully awake now, and the two of them are looking at me with concern.

“And you’re with her now? She’s not alone?” I demand, my voice tight.

“Eric, honey. What is it? What’s wrong?” my mom whispers, tugging on my sleeve, but I hold up my hand for her to stop. I’m too agitated by what I’m hearing.

“I’ll grab the first flight out,” I insist, my eyes darting wildly around the living room. “When she wakes up, tell her I’m on my way, all right?”

My parents exchange a worried glance.

“Will, I need you to do this for me. You have to stay strong until I get there. You hear me?” I clutch the phone to my ear as my hand starts to shake. “Call me if anything changes.”

I jam my phone back into the holder on my belt, blinking back tears.

“Ivy was rushed to the hospital,” I manage to choke out as I drop to my knees, powerless to withstand this new wave of grief.

“And?” my dad urges as the two of them rush to my side.

“She’s in danger of losing the baby.”

Chapter Nine

Lauren

Now this is going to be fun—I can’t wait to watch them squirm.

I feel Ivy trembling beneath my hands. Good. I’m going to enjoy making her suffer. No one makes a fool out of me and gets away with it. No one.

“Lauren, what kind of messed-up game are you trying to play?” Will strikes the first volley. It’s laughable how easy it’s going to be to shoot him down.

“I don’t know, Will. The kind I win?” I smirk at him, and he pushes his chair back violently. “Now don’t go causing a scene. I came all this way to talk. So let’s talk.”

I’ve scared Warren and Dave into a shocked sort of silence, but they’re communicating with each other furiously with their eyes. They probably want to bolt from this meeting and pretend like it never even happened. I’m not surprised they want to extricate themselves from such a sticky situation. But it’s too late now. My claws are out and ready to be sharpened.

I take the seat they were saving for me at the head of the table, dramatically crossing my legs as I sit down. Will blushes hotly for a minute, no doubt remembering when I tied him to my bedpost with this particular pair of pantyhose. All of that delicious foreplay and he still couldn’t get it up. I wore them on purpose to unsettle him. If he thinks he can one-up me, he better think again. I could bury him in an instant.

Besides, I hired a professional to hack into every account he’s ever created. That’s what he gets for leaving his stuff around my place. He’s a pathetic hustler with barely a thousand dollars to his name—and he has the audacity to challenge me? He’s going to be sorry he transferred his loyalty to Ivy because I intend on ruining him.

“Gentlemen, as you can see, my family doesn’t take kindly to being double-crossed,” I begin by purposefully excluding Ivy from the conversation. She doesn’t deserve the courtesy of being mentioned. “My uncle got wind of your little side deal to keep this project alive, and he immediately had the New York branch of Price Enterprises look into it for him. Too bad you didn’t do your research to find out what the letters LPR stand for. I never thought two Academy Award-winning producers would be so lazy.”

“Now listen here—” Dave starts, a bead of sweat forming on his upper lip.

“No, I think it’s time that you listen,” I retort, disdain falling from my lips. “You think I’m here to stop this production from going forward, don’t you?”

“Well, aren’t you?” Ivy spits out, finally raising her eyes to address me.

“It speaks,” I mutter, belittling her. “Sorry, but little sluts like you don’t get to ask questions.”

Will attempts to rise from his chair again, no doubt to defend her honor. How sweet. “Lauren, you better—”

“Better what? Acknowledge the whore in my presence?” I chuckle to myself as Warren gasps loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. “I don’t think so.”

“So what are you planning on doing, if may I ask?” Dave responds, eyeing me apprehensively. He’s flustered but he’s more of businessman than his little ‘wife’ is.

“I’m buying you out, boys. You’re gonna walk away from this project and never look back. I’ll be the one making this film, not you.” My response floors them. Ivy even utters a strangled cry. This is child’s play. They’re not even putting up much of a fight. Why did I bother to fly all the way out here? I could’ve done this on Skype. What a bunch of pussies.

“If Warren and Dave aren’t producing the script, then no one is,” Ivy declares emphatically. “End of discussion.”

“Huh, that’s funny. It sounds like someone’s trying to claim ownership of your script, Will. Or maybe I’m just hearing things.” I laugh bitterly as Will’s face drops. “What? Didn’t you tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Ivy parrots as she clutches her stomach under the table.

“That he’s the one who owns the worldwide distribution rights. He registered a copyright in his name with an intellectual property lawyer and everything. It’s his to do with as he pleases.” I smile triumphantly, ready to crush her once and for all.

“Will, what is she talking about? The script isn’t even completed yet. We have a whole other draft to do. That’s why I’m here.” Ivy stops to take a deep breath as she grips the side of the table. “How could you shut me out of something that’s still a work in progress?”

“Because that’s how creative endeavors are protected,” Dave enlightens her, grimacing at how they’ve been played. “Will owns the idea. No matter what form the finished project takes. I’m afraid he’s beat you to the punch.”

“But they’re my words. He can’t just steal them like that!” Ivy’s green eyes widen as she begins to realize that Will’s only sense of loyalty is to himself.

“Technically, he can. If he listed your efforts as a work-for-hire contribution, then the law considers you compensated,” Dave continues, his voice laced with pity. “You’ve been duped.”

“Ivy, don’t listen to them! I never intended to sell you out,” Will exclaims, hitting the table with his fist, making the silverware jump.

“For a guy who’s in no position to bargain, you must really like the sound of your own voice.” I level Will with a glare as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was intending to make you a decent offer, Will. But if you keep on telling lies, I’m going to change my mind. You don’t want to push me. I’m going to have the script either way. You might as well profit from its sale.”

“Will, are you really going to let her buy you out like that? You’ve known me your whole life and you’re going to betray me like this over money?” Ivy asks, her voice quivering.

“Ivy, I don’t have a choice. You don’t understand. Without this, I have nothing. Nothing!” Will screams, attracting the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

“I can’t believe I trusted you. You promised Eric that you would honor Cassidy’s memory by letting me write the script.” Ivy’s voice rises as she calls Will out in front of the entire room.

“Oh, you’re still going to write it. Just the way I want you to.” I revel in the expression of hatred that seeps across her face. I can push Ivy’s buttons so easily. I’m going to enjoy having her under my thumb again, holding her up to the fire until she burns.

“You don’t own me,” Ivy cries in a deadly undertone. “You never will.”

“I’d think again if I were you,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. “You had no problem slandering me in your first go-around. Now that the tables are turned, how do you think Eric’s going to feel about his baby momma dragging the memory of his precious Cassidy through the muck?”

“I won’t write it, and there’s no way you can make me,” Ivy seethes, her face turning pale.

“Technically, no. But do you really want to make life difficult for all those around you?” I steeple my fingers, waiting for her to crack. “Let’s start with Eric, shall we? I’d have no problem getting the bank to call in his loan. He was such a credit risk anyway. The bank manager told me he only approved Eric’s application after he saw us together at the gala and he assumed we were dating. Now he’s not sure Eric’s going to be able to make all the payments since he was already late with the last one.”

Ivy stares at me in disbelief. I was right. She didn’t even know about the loan. Oh, Eric. You and your secrets…

“And then there’s Will. I have so many saved voice mails of him propositioning me about exchanging sex for money. I’m sure the police back home would have a field day busting up the male prostitution gig he has going on.” I can’t resist a chuckle as Will’s eyes zero in on Warren. He has been a naughty boy, hasn’t he? Dave seems oblivious, but I can always change that. “Will tried to blackmail me for all he could get, but it appears his sexual appetite runs in a different direction, if you catch my drift. It always seems to be the good-looking ones, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’d better stop right there, Ms. Price,” Warren says, fussing with his scarf.

“Really? Because I uncovered a slew of late-night phone calls between the two of you that I really think your husband has a right to know about.” I give Dave a pointed look, and he immediately gets to his feet.

“So that’s why Will came running back to L.A. before the summer was over. You couldn’t stand to be away from your little boy toy, could you?” Dave’s voice sounds three octaves higher as he grabs a glass of water, tossing it in Warren’s face. “Just because you’re younger than me doesn’t give you the right to sleep with some hot piece of ass just because you feel like it!”

“You jerk! You know this scarf is Hermes! The water stains will never come out!” Warren shrieks, changing his tone as Dave storms out of the restaurant. “Wait, darling! I can explain. He wasn’t even that good.”

I snicker as Warren runs after his beloved, soaking wet. But the way Ivy’s looking at Will—now that’s priceless. Talk about being shell-shocked. How could she not know Will’s gay? I mean, really. No straight guy cares that much about his appearance.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Ivy stares at Will, a pained expression on her face.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” he says, swirling the ice in his glass.

“I don’t care who you sleep with, Will, but it shouldn’t be for money,” Ivy responds, clearly troubled. “You’re not out here going to film school. You’re selling your body to the highest bidder.”

“Huh, that’s funny. You don’t care that I’m gay, just that I’m trying to earn a living off it,” he remarks snidely. “You don’t know how hard it is to make it in L.A., Ivy. There’s no way I’m going to bust my ass waiting tables when I can be making a hell of a lot more utilizing my natural assets. Hell, I’d be a fool not to.”

“Hear, hear,” I cry, mocking him. But I’ve had about enough drama for one morning. It’s time to get back to business. “I could go on about how I could strip Ben of his football scholarship and report Eric’s buddy Jack to the IRS for tax evasion, but we have a more pressing matter to discuss, namely Cassidy.”

“Real classy to speak ill of the dead,” Will responds as he spins his knife on the tablecloth.

“What, am I boring you, Will? I assure you I can tell Ivy about more of your sexcapades, if you’d like.” I smile sweetly at him as he sits back in his seat, glumly removing his hands from the table. “I think you consider yourself more of a bisexual, wouldn’t you say? I remember the time…”

“That won’t be necessary,” he replies.

Ah, it’s touching how he still wants Ivy to idolize him. He doesn’t want me to talk about our closed-door exploits that involved a lot more than a pair of pantyhose. Very well. I’ll oblige, for now.

“Turns out Cassidy isn’t as innocent as the world was led to believe.” I raise an eyebrow, goading them.

“What are you talking about?” Ivy asks somewhat reluctantly.

“I have it on very good authority that she was getting a little extra on the side, if you know what I mean.” I revel in bandying about this bit of gossip. It’s like igniting a tinderbox as Ivy and Will start talking at once.

“You’re such a liar!” Ivy cries.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” Will asks.

“Don’t believe me? Fine. I’ll reveal the proof when the time is right, but for now, here’s what’s going to happen. Ivy, you’re going to write Cassidy’s true story, the way it should’ve been told, and Will, you’re going to work your contacts and make sure this film sees the light of day. It shouldn’t be too hard. Everyone loves a tale of a good girl gone bad.”

“And if we don’t?” Will stalls, waiting to hear just how much leverage I have on them.

“Will, I hope you survive prison because you have jailbait written all over you.” I shift my gaze over to Ivy. “And when the bank forecloses on Eric’s house and then the garden center, it’s going to be really hard supporting a newborn baby without a college degree, isn’t it? So why don’t I give you a little incentive?”

“Like what?” Ivy asks, even though she’s reluctant to engage.

“I’ll sign off on that letter. You’ll get your internship credits and move forward with your education. Whether or not you graduate is up to you, but at least you won’t be stuck in limbo anymore.” It’s what Ivy’s always wanted from me, even as she used her connection with Ryan to get it. It’s like dangling a fresh, juicy carrot in front of a starving rabbit. Of course she’s going to bite.

“And how am I going to attend class at the main campus when I have a new baby? They don’t exactly allow infants in the dorms.” Her logic is sound, but I’m already prepared for that argument.

“That’s why the term stay-at-home dad is so wonderfully appropriate, don’t you agree?” I retort, my eyes gleaming.

“And Eric and I are going to live on what in the meantime?” Ivy asks, and I can see the idea already taking shape in her mind. She wants this. I know she does.

“The royalties from the screenplay,” I remark, sliding the last piece of the puzzle into place.

“And you think Eric is going to agree to this? It’ll break his heart,” Will says, trying to get Ivy to see the light. But it’s already too late. She’s mine now.

“He doesn’t have a choice. I either do this or we lose everything,” Ivy groans, wincing in pain.

“Ivy, are you okay?” Will hurries over to her as she leans forward, nearly taking the tablecloth with her.

“So can I take that as a yes?” I loom over her prostrate form until she nods, gasping for breath. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

I stand up and brush off my skirt as Will kneels before Ivy, urging her to calm down. She’s in some kind of distress as a puddle of red appears beneath her on the white linen chair. Oh dear, what a mess.

I unclasp my clutch and throw some bills on the table. Everyone’s distracted by Ivy’s cries. Now is the perfect time to make my escape. I slip my sunglasses onto my face and stride out of the restaurant. All I hear as I make my way out the door is Will yelling, “Can someone call an ambulance?”

I never intended for Ivy to miscarry, but if she does, she does. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I didn’t mean to get her so upset that it would put her baby’s life in danger. She really needs to grow up and learn how to handle things. I outplayed her, simple as that. Just because she couldn’t admit defeat doesn’t make me liable for whatever happens to her. She’s too high-strung for her own good. Maybe this will teach her a lesson. She needs to learn that she’s not the one in control.

I am.

Chapter Ten

Ivy

I feel warmth flow through me as I close my hand.

Someone’s holding on to me. My problems are lifted from my shoulders as I float outside of my body. It’s nice not having a care in the world. I can get used to this. It feels good.

There’s a light burning behind my eyes, but I don’t want to face it. It seems too bright, like it would hurt more than staring at the sun. I’m not in the dark, but I’m not completely in the light either. It’s like some sort of strange eclipse between worlds. Somewhere I’ve never been before. I’m intrigued. I want to stay. I want to learn more.

My ears are blocked like they’re filled with cotton. Noises are muffled and I can’t make out any of the words being said. The only thing cutting through is a beep, a metallic rhythm that sounds foreign like it doesn’t belong here. It’s too sharp, too grating, too repetitive. Why won’t it just go away and let me sleep? I’m so tired. All I want to do is rest, but that beeping noise won’t quit.

I move my head and the fingers surrounding my hand tighten, tethering me to that other world. But I don’t want to go back there. Why can’t they just leave me alone? Why are they pulling me toward that place of pain, that agony that ripped through me? I can’t believe someone would be so cruel as to make me experience that again. I give up. I surrender. I don’t want to fight anymore.

But there’s that beeping again. I can’t ignore it. It’s what is drawing me back, calling out to me through the fog. My heart recognizes and responds, beating in sync to it. What is this force and why does it have such a hold over me? Why won’t it just let me be? Why does it need me so much?

“Ivy…” I hear my name whispered through the haze. It knows who I am. It’s summoning me, but I don’t know if I want to respond. I’m too tired. I just want to sleep.

But the beeping gets stronger. It’s incessant. It won’t stop. It’s like an alarm clock I can’t turn off. It won’t let me doze. It doesn’t have a snooze button.

I groan, moving my head, trying to twist away from the sound.

“She’s coming around,” someone says as a silhouette hovers over the light, blocking it from view. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t want to leave. I feel safe here, protected. Nothing can harm me. If I wake up, I won’t be immune anymore. I’ll be barraged by pain and I don’t think I’m strong enough to deal with it anymore. I’m weaker than I’ve ever been. It’s going to crush me. I have to resist its pull. I have to.

The pressure on my hand increases again. Whoever it is refuses to let go. But I’m so wretched. I’m not worth holding on to. I’ve made a terrible mistake, one that I’ll never be able to come back from. I can’t hurt him like that. I can’t.

“Ivy, it’s me. I’m right here with you.” And then I hear his voice, and it cuts through my resistance. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. It’s all I’ve wanted to hear. “Open your eyes and come back to me. Don’t fight it.”

He wants me back even after all I’ve done to him. Does he know? Will he still love me when he finds out? Is he really here or am I imagining him? I have to find out, even if it kills me.

I follow the sound of the beeps, straining for consciousness. They are guiding me home, back to where I need to go. I’m not ready yet. It’s not my time. My story isn’t over yet. I have work left to do.

Slowly, I flutter my eyes and immediately wish I’d have kept them closed as a searing shot of light makes my retinas burn. I blink, trying to look away, and when I do I come face to face with the man I love. Any thought of wanting to stay away from him immediately vanishes. Nothing can replace the tenderness of his gaze, its warmth shooting straight to my heart.

“Hello, beautiful,” Eric says, brushing his thumb against my knuckle, my hand firmly ensconced in his.

Just looking into his eyes, it all comes rushing back. The blood. The cramping. The pressure. Our baby. Oh God, our baby.

He sees the panic flash across my face, and I feel his other hand caress my forehead. Why isn’t he saying anything? Why won’t he tell me what happened? The beeping increases. I try to find its source, but Eric holds me firmly in place.

“Shhh, calm down. Everything’s going to be okay. The baby’s fine. We just can’t have you getting all excited again.” Eric’s words comfort me like nothing else can. I relax against his hand, squeezing his in return. I try to speak, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I can’t utter a word.

“It’s all right, Miss Thompson. Just take some deep breaths for me,” an unfamiliar voice instructs me. “Your heartbeat is steady. We need to keep it that way.”

“Listen to the doctor, Ivy. You don’t have to say anything. Just breathe, okay?” Eric smiles down at me, his eyes moist with the tears that are threatening to fall.

I nod slightly and try to swallow. My mouth is so dry. I move my other arm, but it’s connected to some kind of wire. It tugs uncomfortably against my skin, so I stop what I’m doing and just lie still, concentrating on my breathing. Our baby is still here with me. I didn’t lose it. That alone fills me with a relief I can’t express.

“She’s doing good, Mr. Young. You can stay in here with her, but keep the talking to a minimum. I need her to rest for the sake of the baby. We’re not out of the woods yet.” The doctor rustles through a chart before reading the screen that’s monitoring my vitals.

“I won’t disturb her. I promise.” Eric’s voice is gruff as he tries not to give in to his emotions in front of her.

“She’s already doing better, knowing you’re here. Her heart rate is where I’d like it to be, and it seems like she’s responding well to the oxygen. Just keep her comfortable and I’ll be back to check on her in an hour.” The doctor gives Eric a quick nod before exiting the room.

We’re finally alone.

“Oh, Ivy…” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my temple. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

I want to respond, but I already feel the tug of sleep pulling me under. I can’t keep my eyes open as the image of his face drifts out of my vision. The beeping of my heart is lulling me to sleep. I can’t resist its call.

* * *

I’m in the void until I hear Eric’s voice again.

“You’re telling me you had no idea she was behind this? C’mon, what kind of idiot do you take me for?”

He sounds mad. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but I don’t want to wake up to him like this, even though he has every right to be angry.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t know it was her. No one did.”

It’s Will. Eric’s fighting with Will. I have to stop them from arguing. We need to stick together. Now is not the time to turn on each other. But it feels like lead weights are holding my eyes shut. I’m starting to drift again. No, I have to hold on. They can’t keep fighting like this.

“So basically she threatened Ivy in front of a restaurant full of witnesses and then simply waltzed out the door before anyone could stop her? I find that hard to believe.” Eric’s voice is low but deadly.

“I got scared when I saw the blood. My sole focus was on Ivy. I didn’t think she’d bolt. I mean, who does shit like that?” Will whispers back.

“But if you had detained her, we could have pressed charges for endangering the life of the baby.” Eric seems frazzled, like he’s grasping at straws. He begins to get more agitated. “She’s all about maintaining her image.”

“Lower your voice, man. Do you really want that nurse coming back in here, telling us to keep it down?” Will warns, jiggling the blinds as he peers out the window. “I don’t do hospital rooms. You’re lucky I’m even here. I’m already starting to feel claustrophobic.”

“This isn’t about you, asshole, in case you haven’t noticed.” Eric gets closer to the bed and his hand finds my cheek. I move my mouth, but my lips are chapped and nothing comes out.

“Oh, I think it is,” Will says then changes his tune when Eric shoves his chair, getting to his feet. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened to Ivy. I really am, but this whole thing isn’t just about the two of you. There are other people involved too. We have to think this through and decide what we’re going to do as a team.”

“But how could you just sit there and let Lauren goad her like that? I mean, you had to have noticed that Ivy was in distress. Why couldn’t you be a man and get Lauren to stop?” Eric’s voice is heated, but he retakes his seat.

“I was overwhelmed.” Will paces in front of the bed. “Lauren was coming at us from every direction. It was like being pinned against a wall while facing a firing squad. My head was spinning. I didn’t even realize Ivy was in trouble until—”

“Until it was almost too late,” Eric cuts him off.

“But the baby’s fine. Nothing happened,” Will responds a little too cheerfully.

“You know that’s not true. Ivy is going to have to be closely observed for the remainder of her pregnancy in order to ensure the health of the baby. They’re even recommending bed rest from this point forward. So don’t even think she’s going to be working on some damn screenplay in order to save your ass.” Eric sounds tough, but I know he’s scared out of his mind. The thought of losing another baby must be eating him up inside.

“It’s not just my ass and you know it,” Will counters, braving his wrath. “We can limit her hours. I can do the typing. All she has to do is lie there. Just as long as we get the pages to Lauren, we’ll be okay.”

“So you’ve been in contact with her?” Eric grunts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“She called me back after I left her a message about Ivy,” Will protests, turning around as his shoe squeaks loudly on the tiled floor. “I had to know what was going on and how she was going to play this.”

“And?” Eric asks dryly.

“She gave me the whole false sincerity bullshit, but she expects us to get back on schedule once Ivy is released from the hospital.” Even Will sounds defeated as he pats my leg beneath the blanket. “There’s no getting out of it. She’s not going to let us walk away. She thinks that if Ivy can breathe then she can write.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Eric mumbles, his voice muffled as he holds his head in his hands.

“Tell me about it,” Will groans. “It took us months to come up with the first draft and she’s only giving us until Christmas, basically a little over eight weeks to turn it around. It’s going to be virtually impossible in Ivy’s fragile condition, but try telling her that. As soon as Ivy gets back on her feet, she’s going to want to do it. She’ll think she can swoop in and save the both of us.”

“And what’s gnawing at me is that we might not have a choice. If Lauren starts calling in my loans, I can’t repay them. Everything’s going to collapse like a house of cards. I can’t bring this baby into the world without any means of supporting it. She has us, plain and simple.” Eric says, sounding confused and out of options.

“You really think she has that much sway over the bank manager?” Will asks, filling a glass from a pitcher of water positioned somewhere near my head.

“Sway? Her stepdad sits on the board of directors. You might as well say he owns the bank. If I default, it’ll hurt my credit rating across the board. I might not be able to purchase new inventory next spring. I’ll be dead in the water. I’m barely hanging on as it is. One ripple like that and it’s all over.” Eric shifts in the chair, rustling the cushion beneath him.

“Ivy knew her stepdad long before Lauren did. She even mentioned to me once how much he liked her when she was still friends with Ryan. Do you really think he’d ruin her like that?” Will questions before nervously gulping down the water.

“That’s the thing. He wouldn’t be ruining her. He’d be ruining me—the guy who created a public spectacle kissing his stepdaughter, the guy who stole Ivy then beat up his son. Yeah, I don’t think he’d have any problem burying me,” Eric admits, sitting back in the chair with a sigh.

“But it’d be affecting her too, wouldn’t it?” Will presses. “I mean, she is pregnant with your child and the two of you live together. If you lose your house and your business, then she’s homeless and broke too.”

“Not if she loses the baby and goes back to school,” Eric mutters under his breath.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You really think they’d sink that low?” Will grips the edge of the blanket, slightly pulling it down from around my shoulders.

“Ivy was writhing in pain in a puddle of her own blood and Lauren walked away, leaving her there. That right there tells me she’s capable of anything.” Eric’s hand is back on my forehead as I feel his warm breath on my face.

“So are you going to go ahead with your plan to take Ivy back to Pennsylvania when she’s able to travel?” Will questions somewhat nervously.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m leaving her in L.A. She needs the safety and security of those she loves around her. I’m not letting her out of my sight again.” Eric leans down and gently kisses my closed eyelids.

“There’s just one little problem,” Will interjects, getting up and wheeling what sounds like a suitcase out of the corner of the room. “Dave had Warren kick me out of their poolhouse. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“And why should I care?” Eric asks, annoyed.

“Because I hold the rights to this little screenplay, and without me, Lauren doesn’t get to ruin your former flame.” Will huffs, hitting Eric where it counts.

“What do you mean former?” Eric seethes.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. This is the part we didn’t get a chance to discuss yet.” Will scoots his chair closer to the bed as I feel him lean over my body.

I wish I could kick him to shut up. He can’t tell Eric about Cassidy. He’ll freak. He needs to hear it from me. Someone who will break it to him gently and not rub it in his face. This is going to send Eric over the edge—if he’s not already there. Damn it, Will. Why do you always have to be such a prick?

“I’m all ears,” Eric says mockingly, stretching his arms above his head. “Tell me why I should support your sorry ass while you work on this with Ivy? Because truthfully, I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“You’re offering me a place to stay?” Will asks, taken aback.

“I might if you can pick up the slack and let Ivy rest,” Eric muses aloud. “If you need Ivy to come up with the ideas, fine. But she’s not going to be spending hours hunched over a computer or communicating with Lauren in any way. You’re going to handle the majority of the workload, serving as the go-between when it comes to the two of them.”

“And you want me to stay in your house with you and Ivy?” Will asks, pushing his luck.

“I don’t think so,” Eric says smugly. “I’ll set you up with a cot and a kerosene heater in the woodshed out back. If you need to shower, you can use the facilities at the garden center.”

“Are you serious?” Will asks, his excitement over Eric’s offer clearly ebbing.

“There’s nothing wrong with roughing it, Will, especially when you don’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, when you’re not working on the screenplay, I could use an extra hand around the garden center. The Christmas tree season can get pretty hectic. You look like a guy who likes to work with his hands.” Eric must be enjoying this because he starts to chuckle.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you, Young? Well, let me tell you something. This screenplay isn’t going to be about Cassidy’s heroic battle against cancer or your gag-inducing love story.” Will is working himself up into full rant mode.

I have to stop him. Drawing on what little energy I can muster, I open my parched lips and try to moan, even though it comes out more like a croak.

The distraction works because Eric’s attention immediately shifts to me. “Ivy, are you okay? Are you trying to say something? Do you need me to get the nurse?”

He bombards me with questions, but I don’t have the strength to answer them. Damn these sedatives. That last surge of adrenaline left me with nothing. I feel myself slipping away again. Oh no, please no. I have to make sure Will doesn’t say anything about Cassidy. I can’t fall asleep—not now.

The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is Will muttering something about perfect timing and then I black out.

Chapter Eleven

Eric

Today’s the day Ivy gets to leave the hospital.

I smile with relief as the doctor signs off on her release, leaving us alone in the room. Will brought her suitcase over from the hotel, so I rummage through it, trying to find something warm enough for her to wear. My dad said the temperature is in the forties back home. I don’t want her to be shivering when she gets off the plane.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeing me from across the room.

Even after repeated assurances that she is well enough to travel, she still looks frail to me with her hospital gown hanging loosely over one shoulder. She’s lost weight at a time when she should be gaining it. Her hair is pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, thanks to my handiwork, and her freshly scrubbed face looks pale and tired. She’s lost that healthy glow that’s surrounded her since she learned that she was pregnant. Now she seems worn out and scared. I hate how Lauren took that away from her. She transformed the joy Ivy felt for the child growing inside of her and twisted it into something to worry about and fear.

“Making sure you fly home in style,” I joke, holding up a pink hoodie and her favorite pair of jeans. “How about these?”

“Frumpy, wrinkled, and disheveled—just the look I’m striving for,” she groans, her voice still a bit raspy and hoarse.

“I think warm and comfortable is more like it.” I place them on the side of the bed and help her sit up.

The straps of the hospital gown are undone in the back, exposing the ridges of her spine. I hold my breath, trying not to notice how thin she is. After three days of a strictly intravenous diet, she can definitely use some meat on her bones. I’ve never seen her this skinny, and I don’t like it. I wish the doctor would allow her some extra time in the hospital in order to regain her strength, but there’s nothing more she can do. The vitals for Ivy and the baby have returned to normal. Apparently there’s no reason to keep them here, even if I disagree.

I debated whether or not to extend Ivy’s stay at the hotel until she was back on her feet. A cross-country flight isn’t exactly the best thing for her right now, but she insisted that she wanted to go home. She promised to sleep on the plane and allow me to get a wheelchair for her at the airport. She’d rather recuperate in our bed with Shep at her side, not tossing and turning in some strange hotel room when she’d feel more comfortable at home.

But I have a sneaking suspicion she’s been listening to the conversations I’ve been having with my dad, pretending to be asleep. She knows how hard it is to run a business on the other side of the country and that I need to get back to the garden center. Things are piling up that require my attention. Checks need to be signed. Bills need to be paid. Deliveries need to be sorted. Stuff I can’t do via email or over the phone.

But I couldn’t care less about any of it. She’s my main concern. Her health and that of our baby are my top priorities. Nothing comes before them—nothing. Everything else can wait.

I slide the hospital gown off of her shoulders and she trembles.

“Are you cold?” I ask, worried. “Quick, put this on.” I slip her arms into the sleeves of the hoodie before moving around the bed to zip it up. I try not to look at her erect nipples as my fingers move up the track from her waist to her chin. It seems like forever since I’ve seen her naked, and I try to ignore the fact that having my hands so close to her bare skin has me straining against my jeans.

“Eric, you forgot my bra,” she teases, sliding her hand on top of mine.

“You’ll be more comfortable without it.” I’m being totally serious. It’s going to be a long flight and she’ll feel better without having an underwire digging in to her.

“Oh, so you’d rather leave it in my suitcase than try and take it off in the airplane restroom?” She gives me an impish grin, unfastening the top button of my shirt. But this isn’t the time or the place to fool around. She’s still wearing a hospital bracelet around her wrist for crying out loud. Her body isn’t ready for me yet. I need to get her home and fatten her up before I allow myself to take her again. She’s going to have to wait whether she likes it or not.

“Forget it, Ivy. We’re not joining the Mile High Club anytime soon. I just want to get you home in one piece.” I brush my lips lightly against hers to help soften the blow. I never thought in my wildest dreams I’d have to reject her advances, but it’s for her own good.

Yet she’s not going to give up without a fight as she grabs the back of my neck, pulling me in as she deepens our kiss. I resist, trying to keep my mouth closed as she plays with my bottom lip with her tongue. Not getting anywhere, she wraps her legs around my waist, but I break away.

“Ivy, stop. You heard what the doctor said. We can’t do this right now.” I disentangle her ankles from behind my back. She’s wide open before me and I try not to look. Instead, I place the hospital gown over her lap to cover her. “C’mon, I have to finish getting you dressed.”

“So we’re really not going to have sex until the baby is born?” She pouts, blowing the doctor’s recommendation way out of proportion.

I slide one foot into her underwear and then the other before glancing up at her. “You know that’s not what the doctor said.” I gather Ivy into my arms, gently placing her feet on the floor as I pull the elastic waistband over her hips, letting my fingers linger there.

“Well, she might as well have,” Ivy grumbles as I grab hold of her waist to position her back on the bed.

“She said we had to wait a week to make sure that the bleeding has stopped. That’s all.” I comfort her before rolling up the leg of her jeans. “There’s a lot I can do to you in the meantime. You just have to be patient.”

“Patient? I haven’t touched you in days. How much longer do you expect me to wait?” Her bloodshot eyes are lined with dark circles. She’s been through hell since she left my side. I don’t want to deny her, especially when she’s not feeling well. Maybe I can give her a little concession to tide her over.

“Be a good girl and help me get your jeans on and then we’ll do…something,” I whisper huskily against her ear.

She gives me a radiant smile and flings her arms around my neck as I help her stand. Bending down, I slip my fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and yank them over her bottom. Deftly, I make quick work of the button fly before meeting her eyes.

“We have to do this fast,” I warn before sliding my hands over her ass. “And I want you sitting down. There’s no need to overexert yourself.” Lifting her up, she grabs fistfuls of my shirt as I set her on the edge of the bed.

Stepping away from her, I reach for my belt, swiftly unbuckling it. I can’t afford to have anyone walk in. Holding up a finger for her to wait, I march toward the door and lock it. At least it’ll buy us a couple of valuable seconds if someone knocks. I don’t even know how I’d begin to explain what we’re doing if someone walks in except to admit that I’m a whipped man. It’s impossible for me to say no to this woman, but I don’t think anyone else would buy my feeble excuse.

“Remember, this isn’t what you think it is.” I don’t want to encourage her as I return to stand in front of the bed, quickly lowering my zipper and moving the flap of my boxers to the side. I instantly spring forth and she reaches out to grab me. “Fuck,” I mutter, biting my lip as she squeezes her hand up and down my length.

“Does that feel good, baby?” she whispers suggestively as I grip the sides of the bed and my knees start to weaken.

The last thing I intended was for her to give me a hand job from her hospital bed. My breathing gets erratic as I try to pry her fingers off me. “Ivy, it feels amazing, but we can’t…” I jerk as she pushes my wrist away, fighting to remain in control.

“Eric, let me take care of you. You’re so close.” She increases her motion, knowing exactly how I like it.

“Ivy, please…” I pant in desperation. “I’m going to come all over you. You have to stop…”

Sighing, she lets go and I somehow stumble into the bathroom. All it takes is a few more tugs and I’m there. My heart skips a beat when I hear someone banging outside the room. Getting to her feet, Ivy quickly shuts the bathroom door before peering out into the hallway.

“It’s just Will,” she calls out, and I hear the rise and fall of their voices as I try to pull myself together.

That could’ve been a freaking disaster. I don’t like refusing Ivy anything, especially when it comes to sex, but we can’t keep on being so reckless. It’s too risky. My face reddens in embarrassment as I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t get caught with pants around my ankles just because Ivy wants them off. I have to learn how to put my foot down.

I turn off the water in the sink, blotting my hands with a paper towel. The orange liquid soap in the dispenser is industrial strength. I use it to wipe off the toilet seat as best I can. I’d be mortified if a maintenance worker had to clean up my mess. It’s a hospital room, not a sperm bank.

Ivy sounds distraught as she talks to Will, but I can’t make out what they are saying. I wait for the toilet to flush before heading back out. My pregnant girlfriend just jerked me off. I need to get my shit together before I can face anybody, let alone Will. I don’t need his disapproval on top of everything else. At least my heart is pounding like a jackhammer and not Ivy’s. She has to stay away from strenuous activity.

But damn, I feel better. I’m not as tightly wound. This is sure to be one heck of a day, and Ivy helped alleviate some of the tension. I must be a complete asshole for letting her do it, but it did help. Somehow she’s always aware of what I need, and I can’t help but smile at how well she knows me.

Will greets me the minute I step into the room. “Uh huh, so that’s why the door was locked. Wipe the grin off your face, you cheeky bastard.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, dipwad,” I retort, unsure of how to act around him. Ivy told me Lauren outed him as gay or bi or something. All I know is that he likes to have sex with dudes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it puts my dealings with him on a whole other level. I don’t know too many gay guys, and I can honestly say I’ve never lived with one before. Our impending housing arrangement suddenly morphed into some kind of social experiment I wasn’t anticipating. I don’t know if he’s attracted to me or to Ivy or to both of us. Whatever the answer, he better keep his hands to himself.

“Will got the wheelchair from the orderly, so my chariot awaits,” Ivy says, trying to smooth the awkwardness between us.

One look at me and Will knows that I know, which is going to make him snarkier than usual. He’s looking at me warily, unsure of my reaction. It’s going to be an uncomfortable situation if we keep skirting around the issue. I should probably bring it up and get it over with.

“Listen, Will. I know you mentioned you were living with Warren, and now I know why. So let’s just leave it at that, all right?” I shrug, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t worry. Landscaping Lotharios aren’t my type,” he says with a smirk. “Sure, a muscle-bound guy like you has his charms, but I’m more attracted to a man whose fashion sense extends beyond plaid shirts and cargo boots. A hefty bank account doesn’t hurt either.”

“What he’s trying to say is that he likes guys who can afford to wear silk scarves,” Ivy whispers loudly. She chuckles, wobbling toward the wheelchair, unsteady on her feet.

“Will, help her! C’mon, man! You’re standing right there,” I scold him as I rush across the room. Luckily Will steadies Ivy, tucking his arm under hers before settling her into the wheelchair. “Will, if this is going to work, you’re going to have to be there for Ivy a hundred percent.”

“Yes, Dad,” Will responds, rolling his eyes at me.

“Don’t even get me started about leaving her at the airport for two hours and—” I’m ready to tear into him but Ivy reaches out and touches my knee, rendering me speechless.

“You two are going to have to get along or at least try and make the effort,” she says, looking up at us. “It’s not good for the baby if I hear you fighting all the time.” She rests her hands on her stomach as Will and I reluctantly nod in agreement, calling a momentary truce, at least until she’s out of earshot.

“I’ll give you two a minute and go down and hail a cab,” Will states bluntly, reaching for the handle of Ivy’s suitcase and dragging it out the door.

“Okay, what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, peering into Ivy’s eyes as she watches Will stride toward the elevator. When she doesn’t meet my gaze, I know something’s up, the tension already reentering my body.

“Nothing. I’m just worried about the baby. That’s all.” She brushes it off, and I can tell she’s not being entirely honest with me. There’s something else.

“Do you want me to call the doctor back in here? Do you have any more questions before we leave?” I stall, waiting to see if Ivy will tell me what’s bothering her or if I’m going to have to dig deeper.

“No, it’s okay. All of the tests came back normal, but it still freaks me out that if there is a next time we might not be so lucky. You’re right, Eric. I really have to concentrate on lowering my stress level.” She’s saying a lot more with her eyes than with her words. “Let’s just worry about getting home before we add anything else to our plate.”

“Am I right in thinking it has to do with what you and Will were arguing about when I was in the bathroom?” I ask, daring her to lie to me.

Ivy pauses for what seems like an eternity before looking me straight in the eye. “Yes.”

I exhale loudly, grateful that she’s not shutting me out.

“But now’s not a good time. We’ll talk about it later, okay?” she begs, encouraging me to accept the compromise even though I don’t like being kept in the dark, especially if Will knows about something potentially dangerous and I don’t.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” I question her one step further, seeing if she’ll relent.

“No.” She shakes her head, and it’s the only answer she gives me.

“You know I don’t like secrets, Ivy.” I aim the wheelchair through the door, rolling her past the nurses’ station. “I almost let them rip us apart before when I didn’t trust you enough to tell you what really happened in Lauren’s office. I don’t want anything like that to come between us again.”

“I swear to you, Eric. It won’t.” She tilts her head back to look at me. “It’s just complicated, and you have enough to worry about right now. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me what it’s about?” I press, wheeling her backwards into the elevator as someone holds the door open for us.

Seeing that we’re in an enclosed space with a group of strangers, all Ivy does is shake her head. I have to believe she’ll tell me when she’s ready. I’m not good at trusting people, but I trust her.

The last thing she would ever do is break my heart.

Chapter Twelve

Will

Can this trip get any more nauseating?

“Home sweet home,” Eric whispers, leaning in to nuzzle Ivy’s nose.

“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Ivy responds, practically cooing in his ear.

I clear my throat before they can indulge in another one of their endless lip-lock sessions. They always seem to have to be touching each other—her palm on his chest, his fingers in her hair, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her waist. It’s so annoying. After watching them fondle the crap out of each other through four different time zones, I’ve about had it.

It was bad enough that they made me practically sit in the aisle while they made out on the plane during the flight. But now we’re into our third hour of being crammed together in the front of Eric’s truck. I can’t even raise my elbows because Ivy’s pressed so close against me. I would have gladly ridden in the cab with the luggage if wasn’t so freaking cold out.

“Oh great, a welcoming committee,” I grumble as we bounce over the glorified cow trail that leads to Eric’s rustic little dwelling.

“Wow, what’s everybody doing here?” Ivy ponders, striving to hide the disappointment in her voice. Ha! She thought their fuck fest would commence the minute they banished me to the woodshed. Think again, sweetheart.

“They probably just want to welcome you home. They’ve been so worried about you.” Eric sounds a little more pleased to see them than she is. Hmm, maybe things aren’t as rosy in paradise. “You know my mom. She can’t resist the opportunity to bring over a home-cooked meal.”

“Oh, so you think everybody’s here for dinner?” Ivy asks, jabbing me with her elbow as she squirms beside me.

“Ouch! Watch it, would ya?” I snarl, and she shoots me a look to shut up. She’s not a happy camper right now. Yeah, well, neither am I.

Eric drives up to the group standing on the porch. A lady with grey hair and glasses is waving enthusiastically while an old dude in suspenders is frantically trying to hold on to Eric’s dog, who is going berserk. There’s a slightly younger couple that can only be described as redneck fabulous watching our approach. The guy has his arm around the shoulders of her bright orange hunting vest while holding a beer bottle in his hand. It seems the party’s already started by the looks of it.

I’m about to close my eyes in despair when a smokin’ hot guy gets up from one of the rocking chairs on the porch. He leaves the buxom blonde he was sitting next to and struts toward the truck. His eyes immediately laser in on mine as I stare him down. He doesn’t look away—and neither do I—as he keeps getting closer and closer. He’s wearing a football jersey that accentuates the broad shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist. He blinks when he steps in front of Eric’s headlights, and I curse under my breath when I see the name of the high school football team emblazoned across his chest. Shit, he’s probably not even legal.

But instead of stopping and waiting for us to get out, he marches right over to my door, opening it without a second’s hesitation. I don’t often get flustered, but I do like a man who takes charge. He offers his hand to help me down, and any guy striving to keep his sexuality a secret would surely refuse. But I can’t resist.

His hand is larger than mine as my thumb grazes the soft hair on his knuckles. Instead of drawing away at my caress, he grips my hand tighter until we’re standing eye to eye. He’s slightly taller than I am, but not by much, and he smells so good—like a woodsy combination of musk and pine. My lips part involuntarily. To cover my indiscretion, I whistle sharply before reluctantly withdrawing my hand.

“Ivy, I’m surprised Eric would have another teenage guy within spitting distance of you after what happened with Ryan.” I don’t mean to insult him in such an offensive way, but I have to regain the upper hand. It’s such an inappropriate thing for me to say, and his eyes widen in shock as Ivy gasps behind me. Well played, Carter. You idiot.

“Don’t talk to Ben like that, Will. What the hell?” Ivy protests, smacking me in the shoulder when I don’t turn around. I glance over at Eric and luckily he didn’t hear what I said. He’s too busy hugging a woman who appears to be his mother.

“You know about Ryan?” Ben’s deep baritone greets my ears as he nudges me out of the way to help Ivy down. The contact is ever so brief but it shoots an electric current all through my body. Shit, is he coming on to me? Or is he just used to being physical with other guys as a member of the football team? It is a tackle sport, after all.

“Yeah, he does, but can we not talk about it right now?” Ivy pleads, smoothing down the front of her jeans. “I have enough on my mind without worrying about that.”

“But you promised you were going to think about it,” Ben insists, flicking a quick glance in my direction.

“Think about what?” I inquire, desirous to have him talk to me.

“Ben, a lot happened since you saw me last, okay? I can only handle one member of the Price family at a time and right now his stepsister is the one I have to deal with first,” Ivy says, yawning halfway through her reply. “In the meantime, why don’t you help Will bring his stuff around to the woodshed?”

“The woodshed? Man, that’s a come down from L.A. I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Hollywood?” Ben smirks when he sees that the majority of the suitcases in the back of the truck are mine. “What are you doing back here anyway?”

“He’s here to help me with the screenplay,” Ivy butts in, not giving me a chance to respond. “You boys behave yourselves, all right? I’m going over to say hello to Eric’s parents and Jack and his wife.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben replies saucily, checking out her ass as she walks away. Maybe we don’t bat for the same team after all. I better find out.

“Who’s the chick on the porch?” I prod, enjoying how his jersey is riding up over his back as he reaches for the luggage. His jeans are practically spray-painted on, and they dip below his hips as he leans over the cab. Damn, I think he’s going commando as the top of his crack comes into view. If we were alone and I was certain of his intentions, I’d pull them all the way down until that glorious posterior was on full display.

“The flavor of the week,” Ben responds flippantly as he tucks two of my bags under his arm. “Why stick with one when you can sample them all?”

“I take it you don’t discriminate when it comes to screwing around.” I leave my response decidedly open-ended, allowing him to take this conversation in whatever direction he wants it to go.

We’ve moved beyond the gathering out front where it’s a lot more private. I want him to open up to me. I hate the game I’m forced to play with other guys. It’s such a delicate balance when I’m not sure if someone is feeling me out or not. I don’t want to come on too strong if he’s not, but I’d regret not making my intentions clear if he is.

“You could say that,” Ben replies noncommittally. His back is to me as we march single file against the side of the house so I can’t see his face. Is he teasing me or turning me down? I can’t tell.

“Why are you here anyway?” I ask, deciding to change tactics. “Are you Eric’s cousin or something?”

“Yeah, right,” he snickers as we enter the clearing in the backyard, the woodshed looming before us. “I work for him part-time at the garden center. It’s a lot of manual labor, but it helps pay for shit like gas and—”

“An endless supply of condoms,” I interject, never taking my eyes off his chiseled profile that is now bathed in moonlight.

“You’re pretty funny, you know that? I pegged you for more of a dick.” He shakes his head while trudging forward, not even winded from carrying my heavy bags.

“Why do say that? You don’t even know me,” I mutter.

“I saw you making a move on Ivy in the diner. You could’ve fooled me,” he chuckles. If he’s baiting me, I’m falling right into his trap. I’m caught off guard by his admission that he noticed me around town last summer.

“About what?” I question, hoping this is going in the direction I think it is. “Being a player?”

“More like being gay,” he states plainly, lining up my suitcases against the woodshed as he turns to face me.

“Is that something you’re into?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“Could be, if I met the right guy,” he appraises me before stepping forward, his mouth inches from mine.

Suddenly, the kitchen lights flick on, throwing us in the spotlight. I instinctively take a step back, regretting it as I do. Ben sighs dishearteningly over my reaction. He’s young and brash. He doesn’t know how much this could complicate matters. He thinks he can have whomever he wants without any consequences. I used to be that guy. I know the mindset. It’s dangerous, especially in a town like this. I can tell he’s had everything he’s ever wanted handed to him, no questions asked. But he needs to realize he’s putting his whole life in jeopardy if he’s going to pursue me openly. It’s not worth it. I’m used to lurking in the shadows. He’ll get used to it too. Besides, he’s hooked now. There’s no going back.

“Meet me back here around midnight,” I urge, licking my lips in anticipation. “Knock three times so I know it’s you.”

He smiles mischievously at me. “I’ll park at the garden center and walk over from there. This way, Eric and Ivy won’t hear my truck.”

“Will! Ben! C’mon inside. It’s time to eat,” Ivy yells out, sliding open the kitchen window.

We both jump guiltily at the sound of her voice.

“We’ll be right there,” I manage to shout back.

I tilt my head in the direction of the house, and we match our strides while hiking up the grassy hill. I’m excited about our scheduled rendezvous. Ben fascinates me. I need to know more about him.

“Have you ever been with a man?” I ask, whispering as we approach the house.

“A boy. I wouldn’t call him a man,” he replies, and I feel myself grow hot. “Not like you anyway.”

Stealing the last slice of darkness before we reach the porch, I latch my pinky finger onto his. “Tonight, I’m all yours.” For the first time all evening, I detect he’s having a hard time breathing as I stroll past him and open the front door. “Are you coming?”

“I plan on it,” he says, brushing past me as he enters the house. “All night long.”

Now it’s my turn to catch my breath as he saunters away from me, throwing an arm around his make-believe bimbo. She chats in his ear, but he ignores her, his eyes fixed on me.

It makes me wonder what ‘boy’ he was with. But I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about it later, after I’ve had him all to myself.

Chapter Thirteen

Ivy

“It already feels like winter here,” I exclaim, rubbing my arms while sitting up in bed. “The warm weather is the only thing I’m gonna miss about L.A.”

“To tell you the truth, I was so preoccupied the whole time that I didn’t even notice the palm trees or the sunshine,” Eric responds, covering me with yet another one of his grandmother’s hand-stitched quilts.

“I do have to breathe, you know,” I protest, wiggling to free myself from beneath the extra weight, but I freeze when I feel something wet beneath my legs.

“What is it?” Eric immediately notices my reaction and begins pulling back the layers of bedding.

“I don’t know,” I moan, trying to not to panic. “I hope nothing.” I curl up on my knees and scoot across the bed. And then I see it—a bright red spot staining the sheet.

“It’s not that much,” Eric says, making a heroic effort to reassure me. “You had some spotting on the plane, but it stopped. You’ve been traveling all day and your body is still coming down from the stress.”

“Coming down? Eric, now that we’re home, things are only gonna get worse.” I push against his chest and scamper off the bed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. Eric says nothing as I rustle through my lingerie drawer for a clean pair of panties. I lower my head, hoping to make it to the bathroom without him realizing how upset I am.

“Ivy, do you need me to help you in there?” he asks as he reaches for me, but I keep going. I don’t trust my voice, so I simply shake my head before closing the bathroom door.

He’s already starting to change the bedding as I sink to the floor in a heap, letting the rustling of the sheets muffle my sobs. I’m so scared, but I can’t let him know that. He’s already been through this before. I’m not going to do it to him again. This baby is going to live. It has to.

A wave of emotion racks my body as I convulse silently against the door. After Eric strips the bed, his footsteps move out of the room and down the stairs. A few seconds later, I hear water running through the pipes and into the laundry room. He’s probably attempting to get the bloodstain out before it sets in. It’s too painful to look at any reminders of a potential miscarriage on the horizon.

The doctor in L.A. said that the bleeding was likely to continue until I had a chance to implement her orders for strict bed rest. I’m so tired, but my heart is beating a mile a minute. I have to calm down. I push myself up, holding on to the doorknob as my bare legs scrape against the cold tile. I should have on something warmer, not just Eric’s shirt, but I can’t think about that now. Instead, I get down on my knees and pray with all of my heart for God to save this baby. I’ll do whatever it takes. Stay in bed for five months. Not have sex with Eric until after the birth. Forget about the screenplay, even if it ruins us. Nothing is more important than this baby—nothing.

I can’t believe I almost lost it. One minute I’m teasing Will about flirting with the hostess, and the next I’m crumpled on the ground, writhing in pain. I’m so mad at myself for letting Lauren get to me like that. I was exhausted from the trip, anxious about being in a strange city, uncomfortable being around Will and his L.A. lifestyle, nervous about meeting Warren and Dave. It was probably way too much stress for a woman in my condition, but having Lauren show up out of the blue to crush our plans was the icing on the cake.

My body couldn’t handle the shock, and it revolted. Lauren was relentless, drilling away, exploiting every weakness. I should’ve gotten up from the table when I felt the first twinge. I never should have stayed and listened to it all. Will could’ve filled me in later. But even after all this time, Lauren’s still able to render me powerless. It’s like she’s my kryptonite, zapping the life right out of me.

But I can’t let her do that to our baby. It deserves a fighting chance, and I put it in jeopardy because I was too much of a coward to walk away. I knew better, but I still did nothing. I needed to protect the child growing within me. Instead I froze, allowing her barrage of threatening ultimatums and sickening revelations to distract me from what I needed to do. There’s no shame in backing down against a bully, especially when the odds of coming out on top are so astronomical.

I give in to my tears, letting them wash over me. I gasp for air, my shoulders heaving. Strands of hair are plastered to my face and I don’t even bother to push them away. I’m such a wreck.

“Ivy…” Eric calls, lightly tapping on the door. “Can I come in?”

“It’s open,” I say, my voice unsteady as I crawl into the corner. There’s no way I can keep him out. I need him to hold me.

“Baby, you shouldn’t be sitting on the floor,” he moans, bending down to bury his face in my hair. I still can’t look at him, but he doesn’t make me. I shudder as he cradles me in his arms, lifting me onto his lap. I let him rock me as he strokes my head. The comfort he’s bestowing upon me only makes me cry harder. “Shhh, I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.” I feel the warmth of his breath trail along my scalp before he kisses my forehead.

“And what if it’s not?” I can’t help but ask. I choke out the words, finally meeting his eyes as tears stream down my face. “What if I lose this baby?”

“You’re not,” he says, placing his hands on both sides of my face so I can’t look away.

“You don’t know that,” I sniffle stubbornly. “I’m so afraid it’s going to be all my fault.” I break into a fresh round of sobs as he gazes at me, grief-stricken.

“You’re talking like it’s already happened. Sure, we had a scare, but our baby is still growing inside of you,” he states, his voice never wavering as he uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. “You need to rest. You’re overtired and not thinking straight. Things will look a whole lot better in the morning once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

“But Lauren’s not going to let up and—” I stop midstream when he places his fingers over my lips.

“Let’s not think about Lauren for the rest of the night, okay?” He stares into my eyes as he tilts up my chin. “We’re going to take this one day at a time. That’s all we can do. You have me on your side, and I swear I won’t let her harm you again.”

I close my eyes and swallow hard. This would be the perfect opportunity to tell him what Lauren plans to reveal about Cassidy, but I can’t. I’ll have to carry this burden a little while longer. He’s so worried about me and the baby that I can’t shatter his world by revealing Cassidy might have been cheating on him before she died. The repercussions of such a revelation would destroy him. He may think he can protect me from Lauren, but what if I’m not able to return the favor? I’m going to have to look into Lauren’s accusations before I approach him with them. She could be lying for all I know, trying to stir up trouble where it doesn’t exist.

I certainly can’t ask Cassidy for the truth. Her secrets are buried with her. I’m going to have to find out who Lauren believes the other guy is and proceed from there. If she wants me to write this tawdry script, she’s going to have to reveal some clues as to his identity. Was he one of Cassidy’s classmates in college? Does he live in town? My heart skips a beat. Does Eric know him?

This could get really ugly. I think the majority of people around here would want to remember Cassidy the way she was and not have their memories of her ruined. She was such a beacon of local pride, the selfless young woman who sacrificed her life for her unborn child, the girl next door who battled cancer with everything she had and lost. No one’s going to want to hear that she really wasn’t so sweet and innocent after all.

Lauren’s crazy to even consider putting this version of events out there for public consumption. Sure, it might have a limited audience of those who enjoy a good scandal, but most are going to be disgusted by it, thinking we’re all trying to make a quick buck off of yesterday’s news. And Eric’s the one who’s going to be vilified for going along with it because of his involvement with me. On a national level, the public isn’t going to care who Lauren is. They’re going to be too caught up in pointing fingers at Eric to pay any attention to her. Plus, if word gets out about his financial troubles, he’s going to look like the desperate ex-boyfriend trying to get rich by smearing Cassidy’s good name. Eric’s word is his bond, and it will kill him to be cast in such an unflattering light. Will he be able to bounce back from something like that? Is it even possible?

And it will be a sort of double betrayal. He’s going to be hurt when he learns of Cassidy’s infidelity and he’s going to hate me for being the one to tell him. He’ll never forgive me for keeping something like this from him, but the circumstances surrounding how he ended up in L.A. just wouldn’t allow it. I was sedated and lying in a hospital bed after nearly suffering a miscarriage. The first words out of my mouth very well couldn’t be, “Lauren thinks Cassidy cheated on you.” It wasn’t the time or the place, but now that we’re home, things are different. I can’t keep it from him much longer and expect him to understand my reasoning for not bringing it up sooner. I know if our roles were reversed I’d want him to tell me. There’s no excuse for continuing to remain silent. Like he said, we’re in this together. I have to be up front with him about everything, not just when it’s convenient for me.

“Ivy, you’re shivering,” Eric murmurs, holding me even closer to his body. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

In one fluid motion, he gets to his feet with me in his arms, reminding me of his sheer physicality. He’s such a fine specimen of a man, both inside and out.

He walks by Shep, who’s thumping his tail just outside the door, and carries me over to the bed now covered in fresh linens. He tucks me in, bundling the array of quilts and blankets up to my chin before turning out the light and slipping in beside me. He doesn’t stay on his side of the bed for long. I feel him nestle against my body, his hand on my stomach and one of his legs covering both of mine. I stare at the moon through the skylight as his breathing falls into a steady rhythm and it’s not long before he’s snoring. I allow my fingers to lightly trace his sideburns as he sleeps peacefully, unaware of the jumbled thoughts racing through my mind. I glance at the clock. It’s after midnight. I better shut my eyes and at least try to get some rest. Eric shifts in his sleep, turning over onto his back, and I already miss the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

In L.A., I got a taste of what it would be like to have to sleep alone, and it shook me to the core. I can’t go back to the way I lived before, content to lie in a dorm room all by myself. Those days are over now. No matter what kind of ideas Lauren tries to plant in my mind about going back to college, it’s not what I want. Not anymore. I run my hand across Eric’s chest while patting my stomach. I have everything I need right here.

If only I can hang on to it.

Chapter Fourteen

Lauren

So the little skank ended up in the hospital. Oops.

I should feel guilty, but I don’t. Ivy shouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first place. It’s like she just wanted to land a guy to support her sorry ass for the rest of her life. Ryan even told me she grew up on welfare for pity’s sake. Just because her drunk mother was too lazy to work for a living doesn’t mean she has the right to sit at home and do nothing. Talk about an unjust sense of entitlement.

Everything about Ivy Thompson just infuriates me.

* * *

I’ve worked my entire life to get where I am. True, I might have worked my connections, but who hasn’t? My stepdad is a wealthy man. He helped me land this job at the Gazette, but it’s not like he’s here burning the midnight oil while I’m kicking back, painting my nails. I devote my entire life to the paper. I’m the first one there in the morning and the last to leave at night. I log sixty to eighty hours a week and that doesn’t even count holidays and weekends. I don’t take any time off when I have menstrual cramps or a headache that won’t quit. No, I’m here all day, every day.

I run board meetings. I approve layouts. I schmooze advertisers. All in the effort of turning a profit and keeping the paper in the black at a time when print is dead and digital thrives. It’s not easy running a successful business in an industry that is undergoing monumental change. People don’t get their news delivered to their doorstep every morning anymore. No, they get it on their phones or when they turn on their tablets. Who wants to get their fingers dirty reading newsprint?

Luckily, the pathetic farmer types around here do. Ah, one of the perks of living in the land that time forgot. I could be in Hollywood assisting my uncle on his next big film project. I could be in Manhattan helping my stepdad manipulate the stock market like it’s his own personal lottery. I could be doing so much more, but I’m not. Instead, I’m stuck in a job I’m vastly overqualified for in a town where a tractor pull is considered a cultural event. So why do I stay if I could have a much more glamorous and exciting life?

Two words. Eric Young.

From the moment I set eyes on him at that Chamber of Commerce meeting, I knew he was the one for me. We were both up-and-comers at the time. He was getting ready to open the garden center and I was just appointed editor of the Independent Gazette. We were the bright young stars in the community, both looking to make a splash.

I’m usually not attracted to guys like Eric, but there was just something about him. He was poised yet thoughtful, articulate yet respectful. The way he presented his business plan to the loan committee made me sit up and take notice. I was bored out of my mind listening to a roomful of old men ramble on about the price of milk and soaring interest rates, but when Eric got behind the podium, he had my full attention.

I think he was surprised to see me there since the panel was dominated by lifelong business owners and I was fresh out of Harvard. Here I was, two weeks on the job, and I had a hand in deciding his fate. It was a heady feeling, knowing I’d have a role in determining his future. I seemed to make him nervous as I tossed my hair over my shoulder, daring him to take his eyes off me.

His presentation was impressive. He’d done his homework and knew what he was talking about, backing up his projected figures with market research and economic trends. He was a farm boy, sure, but he was a hell of a lot more than that. He was intelligent, well-spoken, persuasive—finally a man who was my equal in every respect. He didn’t have the advantages I grew up with, but he more than made up for his lack of wealth with his work ethic and charm. The way he presented himself screamed success. He was destined for great things, and I was determined to push him as far as he could go. The sky was the limit—with me by his side, of course.

When I approached him after the meeting to congratulate him on a job well done, he was polite yet firm as he turned me down. He was flattered, but he already had a girlfriend. I could tell he was conflicted. I had a deciding vote in approving his loan request. He was taking a huge risk, admitting that he wasn’t interested in me. I had the power to ruin him—or at least stop his business from getting off the ground.

At first, I was furious, hell-bent on getting even. But the more I asked around about him, the more I came to learn about him and Cassidy and how they grew up as childhood sweethearts. Their relationship wasn’t some casual fling. It spoke of a type of loyalty I couldn’t help but admire. Not many guys in their twenties know what they want, and his devotion to her spoke volumes. Here was a guy who was in it for the long haul. He was goal-oriented and romantic.

My only challenge was to get him to transfer that level of fidelity to me. Together we could conquer the world. With my money and influence coupled with his charisma and know-how, we’d make one hell of a couple. We’d blow this little town right out of the water. We could go anywhere. Do anything. Nothing could stop us. Nothing would stand in our way.

Except a baby.

At first, I was willing to wait it out. Yeah, Eric was building their dream house. He’d even proposed to Cassidy, but I knew better. I had my spies where I needed them. Cassidy wasn’t being so discreet with her little liaisons. She wasn’t covering her tracks. She was leaving a trail that was easy to trace. It’s like she wanted to get caught. I had her right where I wanted her.

And then Eric announced that she was pregnant and my bubble burst. He would never leave her at that point, no matter what she did to him. He would do everything he could to ensure his child grew up being raised by both a mother and a father. They were inexplicably bound, this fetus tethering them together through all eternity. Eric was a good Christian boy, raised in the church. He would marry the mother of his child, end of discussion.

Even if I’d told him that she was cheating on him and provided him with irrefutable proof, he’d still have walked her down the aisle. It’s just the kind of guy he is—dutiful to a fault. Then Cassidy got sick and the media turned her into a national martyr. It sickened me how everyone felt so sorry for her when Eric was the one pushed to the sidelines, the emphasis always on her. He was faithfully fulfilling his role, holding her hand in front of the cameras. He had no clue what was going on behind his back, but I did.

I bided my time. She had stage four breast cancer. The likelihood of her carrying that child to term was slim to none. If she somehow did manage to give birth, I would have had to seriously consider whether or not I wanted to raise her bastard child as my own. No matter how much I wanted Eric, I didn’t think I could stomach it. He would always love that child more than me because it was a part of Cassidy, and she was already on her way to sainthood. There was no getting in the way of that. It was either the child or me. If it had survived, I would have walked away.

When Cassidy passed away, taking the baby with her, I secretly rejoiced. It sounds horrible but she got what was coming to her. Eric was too good a man to be saddled with someone like her. She’d have kept him trapped in this backward community for the rest of his life. He would have been staring at a dead end by marrying her. She had no valuable connections. She couldn’t have advanced his career. But I could have gotten him out of this hellhole of a town.

I didn’t want to come on too strong after Cassidy died. I mean, the man was still in mourning. But every chance I had, I’d stop over the garden center or call him on the phone, letting him know I was still interested in him. He was lonely. I could tell, and I preyed on that. He was a man. It wouldn’t be long until he sought out some female companionship, and I was ready and willing to oblige. My number would be the first one he’d call, guaranteed.

But I waited and waited and nothing happened. My uncle kept pestering me to leave the Gazette and come out to L.A. to help him with his latest project. It was the holiday season and I was feeling low. I never like to admit defeat, but I was ready to give up. I could’ve told Eric about Cassidy, but why bother? I thought he’d come running the minute she was in the ground, but he didn’t. Maybe it was time for me to move on and forget all about him. But I gave it one last effort and called his number.

And lo and behold, he accepted my invitation for a nightcap. Sure, I labeled it a business meeting, but who talks profit margins on a Friday night? He knew what I was after. I didn’t have to spell it out for him. The look he gave me when I opened the door, I’ll never forget. It was hungry, desirous. Lust was radiating off of him. He’d never allowed himself to look at me that way before, but now his barriers were lowered. He was ready for something more.

This was the opportunity I’d been longing for. He was mine. All mine. And boy was I going to have fun with him. I opened a bottle of wine to ease things along, and before I knew it, we were on the couch in my office. I was undressing him. We were almost there. He was going to let me do him without a condom. I did a rapid mental calculation in my head. I was due to ovulate at any time. He could actually get me pregnant if we had sex. I wasn’t on the pill because I wasn’t sleeping with anybody. I hadn’t slept with anyone since college. He needed this. I needed this. My plan was working out beautifully—until I broke a nail.

I should’ve let it go and carried on, but I panicked. What if I really did end up pregnant after this? He was really not the Eric he was before. He wasn’t as driven. He wasn’t as focused. He’d let himself go, barely hanging on to what he had left. No doubt Cassidy’s death was a blow, but I thought he was strong enough to pick himself up and carry on. Now he was more of a wildcard, not so much of a sure bet. He wasn’t the confident, self-assured guy I’d seen in that meeting. Now it looked like he couldn’t even bother to shave. Was this what I really wanted in my life—a train wreck of a man whose best days were already behind him?

I used my broken nail as an excuse to stop things before they went too far. He needed more time to get his act together. I’d give him a few more months and see if he pulled through. There was no rush. It wasn’t like this town was crawling with available women. Who was he going to date instead—Marla down at the post office? I don’t think so.

We got dressed and said our awkward goodbyes, and I was disappointed when he climbed into his truck half loaded and drove away. I thought he’d at least call a cab. That wasn’t responsible behavior. Did he really care so little about his life that he’d risk driving under the influence on those icy country roads? Was that the kind of effect I had on him? I didn’t want to think about it. I shoved it to the back of my mind to ponder when I was sober.

Months went by and winter turned to spring. I was busy at work. The paper hit its first financial speed bump as the economy continued to sour and more and more businesses closed their doors. It was up to me to somehow find a way to make up the lost ad revenue. I decided to take on more unpaid interns for the summer and slash the payroll as much as I could. I added Ryan to the delivery staff and he asked about bringing Ivy on board. Little did I know that it would be the biggest mistake of my life.

I knew so little about her then. She was my stepbrother’s childhood friend. That about summed up my knowledge of her. I didn’t much care for her after our interview. She didn’t seem like she was taking it seriously, sassing me back and showing up in flip-flops, but I didn’t have the time or the desire to screen any more applicants. She seemed competent, so I pulled the trigger and did Ryan a favor.

I was so distracted at securing the payment for the theater’s ad space that I wasn’t thinking when I sent Ivy to pick up that stupid disk from Eric. It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Of course he was all over her. She was young and full of luscious curves. Guys eat that shit up, especially ones who haven’t gotten laid in two years. And then when she got to play the damsel in distress when her car ran out of gas, of course he came running to her rescue. I couldn’t have set things up more perfectly if I’d tried.

At the time, I didn’t think anything was up. I thought Eric was just being nice. It was her first day on the job. She’d gotten stranded, and he helped her out. I could tell Ivy was trying to play it off when she got back to the office, but I definitely picked up on the hostile vibes she was giving me when I talked about Eric. She didn’t want me anywhere near him, which surprised me because one of my spies told me that they had caught her flirting with Will earlier in the day. My informant managed to drag Will away from Ivy, but she said they were both pretty intense before she’d interrupted them.

It made me wonder if maybe I’d underestimated Ivy. She seemed like she was capable of manipulating the men in her life, using her body to her advantage. Ryan and I weren’t exactly close, so I had no clue how promiscuous she was. I never saw her acting overtly sexy in my presence. Until I found her smack dab in the middle of Eric’s lap, that is. That’s when I knew for sure things had gone too far. I had to put a stop to her antics before Eric’s dick got him in trouble and he did something stupid.

But he was already beyond my influence. Something about her had drawn him in and he wasn’t letting go, not without a fight. I did everything I could to make him see reason, but he didn’t want to hear it. He was determined to have her no matter what I said or did. He tossed me casually aside for a girl barely out of her teens who’d come from nothing and knew even less. We could’ve been so good together, great even. But he didn’t want an equal, a relationship of like minds and similar interests. No, he wanted to bury himself in this small town and fuck the living daylights out of some little tramp. He was giving up by settling for Ivy. She isn’t right for him. She can’t give him what he needs in the long run. But he didn’t seem to care.

And once again, he knocked up another one of his charity case girlfriends. Talk about being fertile. He was virile enough to impregnate the whole town. It’s a good thing I didn’t sleep with him that night or I’d be lugging around a diaper bag instead of a Coach patent-leather clutch. It makes me cringe to think he almost turned me into what I hate—a dim-witted woman, barefoot and pregnant, dependent on her man. That’s something I never want to be.

My mother taught me well. All men are jerks. Some are worse than others, but ultimately none of them truly know how to make a woman happy. Sure, things might start off promising. There’s always the honeymoon phase, but it doesn’t last. The problems of real life infiltrate every lovestruck cocoon and annoyances crop up. Pretty soon, trivial things turn into major problems. Compatibility is the stuff of legend. It doesn’t exist. Men get bored and check out while women get fat and keep busy. Eyes wander. Crankiness replaces conversation, and couples split up and move on to greener pastures. While people may say forever at the altar, nobody really means it. A woman needs to look out for her own best interests by putting herself first. It’s bad enough to have to endure the pain of a mutual separation, but it’s murder when the cord can’t be severed because of financial reasons. My mom told me to never put myself in a situation like that. I was always reminded that a happy woman is one who is able to support herself and can walk away from a man at any time. Her message was clear. Never get trapped. Never give in.

But she never said anything about revenge.

* * *

It’s time for them to face the music. No more waiting around.

“You’re sure they’re back?” I ask Ryan as he fiddles with the paperclip holder on my desk.

“Yeah. I was parked in that field all night. I saw them get out of Eric’s truck. Woo fucking hoo,” he responds a little too nonchalantly for my taste.

“And you’re positive no one noticed you?” That’s all I need is for him to get careless now at this stage of the game.

“Ha, I only wish they did,” he grumbles, slouching down even farther on the folding chair. “Man, I’d like to have another go around with Eric. Give that prick what he has coming to him.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I warn him, my tone lethal. “You’re not to go anywhere near them, you hear me? You got off easy the last time when neither of them pressed charges. I don’t think they’ll be so generous this time around if they catch you on their property.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘their’ property now, is it?” Ryan smirks at me, spreading his legs apart even more. “I didn’t think giving up was your style.”

“Sit up straight. And pull your pants up while you’re at it. You look like a thug.” I glare at him. If he thinks he’s going to goad me into an argument, he’s sadly mistaken. He’s baiting me, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know what’s really bothering him. “Was Will there too?”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing a hand across his stubble.

“Anyone else?” I shuffle through some papers, pretending like I’m only half listening.

“His parents…that guy Jack and his wife…Ben and some chick.” He plays it off like it’s nothing, but he’s not that smooth. His voice definitely rises when he says Ben’s name.

“How did they react to seeing Will?” I ask while clicking through my emails. “I bet he made quite an impression.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan responds almost too quickly.

“I don’t know…I mean, he is charming and if I dare say easy on the eyes, especially up close.” I can’t resist smiling as he squirms uncomfortably on the tiny chair.

“Knock it off, Lauren.” He eyes me warily. Good, I have him on the defensive—just where I want him to be.

“If you say so, Ryan. I mean, he had both genders falling all over him in L.A. I even saw him with the sugar daddy he was shacking up with, but I think that’s over now. I bet he’s back on the market just looking for someone new.” I sit back in my leather chair as I deliver that particular dagger to his heart. Ryan thinks he’s so unaffectedly jaded. Please, he’s like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Why were you there all night? You didn’t have to stick around.”

“I had some things I needed to take care of,” he replies glumly.

“Like?” I challenge him, waiting to see if he’ll finally admit to what I’ve known all along.

“Their comings and goings, if they needed to rush Ivy to the hospital in the middle of the night. I thought you’d want to keep tabs on her.” He’s bluffing, and it kind of makes me feel sorry for him—almost.

“So were there any late-night movements?” I click my heels in anticipation on the plastic mat surrounding my desk, fully expecting him to lie to me.

“No,” he says sharply, his eyes trained on my face.

“Wow, none at all?” I coax, acting like I believe him.

“Nope.” His leg starts to twitch, giving him away.

“Well, I’m sorry you sat in your Jeep all night for nothing.” I glance at him like he’s someone to be pitied and he looks like he wants to leap over the desk and strangle me. Just the reaction I was hoping for. And he thought he was going to rile me up? Huh, think again.

“Yeah, me too,” he remarks, glaring back at me. But it’s too late. He should’ve guarded his secret more carefully if he didn’t want someone with half a brain to figure it out.

“I haven’t seen you hanging around with Ben lately. Did you two have a fight or something?” I tilt my head innocently, full of sisterly concern.

“You could say that,” he mutters, dodging the question.

“Oh yeah, I think Dad mentioned something about you and the swim team and having his brother fired. Boy, you really don’t fool around, do you? I guess you learned from the best.” I give him a wink, letting him off the hook for now.

But he knows I have leverage on him and I intend to use it if he gets out of line again. I just wish he didn’t always go for the jugular instead of stepping back and counting to ten. He’s too impulsive for his own good, and he’s going to pay for that someday. He just better not cross me in the meantime. I need to keep him on his toes and not get lulled into taking him for granted. We nearly got into a shitload of trouble when Will exposed that fake newspaper story we’d concocted all to protect his ass. He better not force me to go out on a limb for him again because I won’t. From now on, I’ll let Ryan clean up his own messes.

“Are we done?” he asks sullenly, getting to his feet.

“Oh yeah, we’re done.” My eyes pierce his, sending him a clear message of who’s in charge.

He shuffles out of my office, purposely dragging his feet. I close my eyes and sigh. What a loser.

But I have more important things to think about, like getting myself over to Eric’s house.

Chapter Fifteen

Eric

God, does it feel good to wake up in my own bed.

I stretch carefully, not wanting to disturb Ivy. I watch as the sunlight catches her hair that’s sprawled across my chest. I soak in these precious moments, listening to the rise and fall of her every breath. She’s back in my arms. Catastrophe diverted—for now.

Ever so slowly, I sit up and run my hand under the covers. The sheet is warm from her body, but I don’t feel anything amiss. Hopefully it means the bleeding has stopped. I’ll have to ask her for sure when she gets up, but so far, so good. Maybe we can begin to put this episode behind us and start focusing on the positive. We have a baby on the way. We should be excited, not scared to death.

As much as I don’t want her to wake up alone after such a traumatic night, I have to get going. The garden center needs me. I have a lot to catch up on. It’s bound to be a crazy day, and I can’t waste a minute of it. Groaning as my skin comes in contact with the chilly morning air, I hurriedly toss a wrinkled sweatshirt over my boxers and root through the closet for a pair of jeans. The laundry was backed up before I left. I should really throw a load in before I head out. I don’t want Ivy to have to worry about it. She needs to stay in bed.

I make my way softly down the steps with Shep at my heels. I open the door to let him out, surprised to see a thick frost covering the ground. I have to warm this place up. I glance over at the woodpile and there are only a few logs left. I’ll have to refill it before I leave. There’s just so much extra stuff I have to do now that Ivy’s on bed rest. I hope I can keep up with it all. I’ve lived here by myself for so long, but I really got used to her handling most of the household chores. It’s nice having a partner to balance things out. But I’ll just have to pick up the slack until she’s back on her feet.

Quietly, I arrange the wood in the fireplace before setting it ablaze. I gaze into the flames. I was planning on taking Ivy to the Hideaway Cliffs this weekend, but it doesn’t look like that’ll be happening anytime soon. Her condition is still too iffy to be carting her around the countryside. She could start bleeding again and we’d be miles away from the hospital. It’s better if we stay close to home. At least Doc’s in town if we need him.

I’m tempted to bring in the crib and place it at the bottom of the bed for Ivy to find when she gets up. But I really want to be there to catch the look on her face when she sees it. I can picture her examining every inch of it, pointing out all of the hand-carved details I already know by heart. Hearing her ‘ooh and aah’ over the crib would be like experiencing it for the first time through her eyes. Her reaction was the only thing I thought about as I spent hours and hours making it as perfect as I possibly could for our baby.

And I don’t want to upset her either. Things are still on the fence. Maybe it’s best to get through her first week home and make sure everything’s okay. If something does happen—God, I don’t even want to think about it—the crib will turn into a painful reminder of our loss and not the fulfillment of the promise it was meant to be. She’ll want to destroy it, just like I did, and try to erase the heartache from our lives. But I’m not giving up on this baby—not yet. And neither should she. It’s already proven to be a survivor. Our child is determined to come into this world, and I want to be there to welcome it when it does.

I hear Shep scratching at the door, begging to be let in from the cold. His insistence jolts me out of my head and back into reality. I better get a move on if I’m going to provide for this baby. I have a lot of ground I need to cover before it gets here in April, and I want to be ready. There’s no time to waste.

The last thing I want to think about is losing it all if Ivy doesn’t comply with Lauren’s demands. I had a lengthy conversation with Will on the plane when Ivy fell asleep during the last two hours of the flight. He knows what I’m expecting from him in terms of managing Lauren and keeping up with the workload. Ivy’s not to be overtaxed or overburdened in any way. He’s prepared to handle the bulk of the project while seeking Ivy’s creative input when he needs it. He briefly alluded that Lauren wanted to sensationalize Cassidy’s story but clammed up when I pressed him for details. He said it would be better if I had Ivy explain it to me, whatever that means. It doesn’t sound too promising. That’s a conversation I’d rather save for another day.

When I open the door, Shep charges in as I bend down to pick up the rolled-up copy of today’s Gazette. I’m about to turn around and go back inside when I hear someone’s footsteps crunching through the frost-covered grass from the back of the house. I groan inwardly. I’m not ready for my morning dose of Will yet. I hope he doesn’t think we’re going to sit down and eat breakfast together or something.

I brace myself as the footsteps round the corner and come face to face with Ben. He seems startled to see me standing there with my mouth open. For a second, we just stare at each other, totally at a loss for words.

“Ben, what are you doing here, man? Shouldn’t you be on your way to school?” I ask, peering at him against the glare of the sun.

“Uh, yeah…I was thinking of taking the day off to see if you could use some help catching up on everything.” He stumbles but quickly recovers. I almost buy it—almost. Something’s up, and it concerns some scheme of Will’s. That much is certain.

“I don’t think the school would appreciate you playing hooky on my account. I don’t need a truant officer busting my ass over the star quarterback not being able to play in Friday night’s game.” I tuck the paper under my arm, feeling him out.

“Do you really think it matters?” he asks, grinning like the joke is on me. “I have what you would call ‘special privileges.’”

I hate the smug look that’s plastered all over his face. He probably can do whatever he wants and get away with it. A sports hero like him is revered in this town. No one’s going to stop him if he feels like skipping class. More power to him is the general attitude. I’m torn because I could really use his help today, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of going along with his whims like everyone else.

“What’s going on? Did I miss something?” Will comes jogging around the side of the house, the wind at his heels. “Ben stopped by to see if I needed a lift to the garden center. I didn’t think Ivy would be up to working today, so I thought I’d make myself useful.”

Will is really off his game. There are so many holes I could punch in his story, it’s ridiculous. Ben is wearing the same clothes he had on last night. His truck is nowhere to be seen. And there’s no way in hell that he’d do Will a favor out of the goodness of his heart. Unless…

I don’t have a chance to question him further because a car is rumbling up the road toward the house.

“Holy shit.” Will whistles under his breath.

“Is it really who I think it is?” I ask, grinding my teeth.

“Yep, in the flesh,” Will responds, hustling to my side to get a better view. “It’s about to get ugly up in here. Ben, you might want to get away while you still can. You definitely don’t want to be on this bitch’s radar.”

“That’s for damn sure,” I groan as the car comes to a stop.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you down at the garden center.” Ben waves halfheartedly, disappearing into the woods instead of walking past the car and onto the road. Smart boy.

“Later,” Will calls out, leaning in front of me to watch him depart.

“Really, Will? A high school kid?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s no kid,” he responds, unperturbed.

I roll my eyes just as Lauren glides out of her Mercedes wrapped in a white wool coat. She removes her Gucci sunglasses, settling them atop her perfectly coiffed head. She looks expensive. From her leather boots to her cashmere gloves, her whole appearance screams luxury, wealth, and power. I don’t blame Will for gulping beside me.

“Well, if it’s not the two guys I just so happen to be looking for.” She rakes her eyes over us, lingering a tad too long on the area below my belt. “Long time no see, boys.” She shuts the car door with a wallop, leaving its toasty interior behind to brave the chilly greeting she’s sure to expect.

“What are you doing here, Lauren?” I ask curtly.

“To do business, of course, silly.” She swats my chest while removing her gloves. “We have a lot of things we need to discuss.”

“Not here you don’t.” I spread my legs farther apart, blocking her access to the door. “You’re not welcome in my home.”

“Now, Eric, don’t be like that. We’re all going to have to work together and things would go a whole lot smoother if we all just got along. With poor Ivy confined to her bed, you had to have been expecting a visit from me sooner or later. How else are we supposed to get this thing done?” She bats her eyelashes at me, only provoking me further.

“Will already informed you that you’re not to have access to Ivy during all this. He’ll act as the go-between. Any message you have for Ivy, tell him. You will not be meeting with her in person. Is that clear?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, daring her to contradict me.

“Yes, he did tell me about your list of demands, but it doesn’t mean I have to agree to them,” she chuckles, drawing some paperwork out of her purse. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I have in my hands a copy of your latest bank statement. I believe you’re several weeks behind on a loan payment? You wouldn’t want me to call the manager and have him start taking the necessary steps to foreclose, would you?”

“You’re bluffing,” I retort, placing my hands on my hips.

“Try me,” she spits back.

I’m just about to tear into her when I hear shuffling behind me.

“What’s going on?” It’s Ivy. She’s out of bed and standing outside in nothing but my shirt. I instantly see red.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Lauren drawls, smirking as Ivy shivers. “Ivy, tell this Neanderthal boyfriend of yours to step aside. We have work to do.”

“I don’t think so,” I growl, stepping in front of Ivy, blocking her from view. “You’re not coming in. Don’t even think about it.”

“Eric, it’s okay,” Ivy says, catching me off guard. “She’s right. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“You can’t be serious,” I spin around, searching her eyes for some kind of explanation. “You’re in no condition to—”

“She’s a big girl. Why don’t you let her decide for herself?” Lauren advances again, causing me to lean into Ivy. “Or maybe you want to hear a little bit more about what we intend to work on. I’m sure it’ll blow your mind.”

“Lauren, don’t,” Ivy warns, and there’s no mistaking the fear in her voice.

Lauren has something on her. It’s the only reason why Ivy would so readily give in to her demands. Ivy is in no state to go head-to-head with her. It’s not a fair fight. That’s why she’s caving. It probably involves me somehow and she’s trying to protect me so that I won’t get hurt. That’s the only explanation for why she’s backing down when Lauren’s coming on so strong. She must be feeding her a line about me. But I’m not afraid to set her straight. It’s about time someone put Lauren in her place once and for all.

“Will, take Ivy inside. I’ll settle this,” I seethe, not even looking at Ivy as she protests behind me.

Will closes his eyes and curses under his breath but obeys my command. He slips his arm through Ivy’s, trying to get her to retreat inside, but she grabs a handful of my shirt, attempting to push me out of the way so she can get to Lauren.

“Eric, stop! You don’t know what you’re doing,” she cries, desperately trying to hang on to me. Will lifts her off feet but she continues to struggle against him. “I’m begging you, please don’t do this. Please!”

“Get her upstairs!” I roar as her nails dig into my skin.

She’s nearly hysterical, and I don’t like it. She’s gotten herself too upset over this. It’s the last thing I wanted for her right now. She fights Will with all her might, and he ends up tossing her over his shoulder as she continues to scratch and claw at him.

“She’s going to tell you that Cassidy was cheating on you!” Ivy shouts before Will has a chance to close the door. She’s panting in his arms. Tears are streaming down her face. But for a minute, my mind goes blank. I know she’s in distress, but all I can focus on are Lauren’s red-painted lips as they curl into a hideous smile. This can’t be happening. Not again.

“You beat me to the punch once again, Ivy. Bravo!” Lauren smirks as Ivy pounds Will with her fists to let her down.

“Get out,” I say, my voice deadly.

“I guess my work here is done,” Lauren says, calmly lowering her sunglasses onto her nose. “Ivy, I’ll be in touch to schedule our next writing session. We’re going to have to flesh out all of the juicy details of Cassidy’s affair. Can’t wait. Oh and Eric, if you think I’m lying, which I’m not, you might want to talk to Ben’s brother. I’m sure he could provide you with a ton of information about their secret trysts. Like I said, fascinating stuff. It’s going to make such a great movie, don’t you think?”

“I’m going to count to ten and you better get the hell off my property!” I completely lose it, advancing on Lauren until she stumbles backward, gripping the railing before making her way down the porch steps. I chase her to the door of her car, standing there until she gets in and starts the ignition. It’s taking all of my willpower not to physically pull her out the vehicle, but somehow I restrain myself. But she still has to have the last word.

Sliding down the driver’s side window, she calls out, “Oh and Will? You might want to change your shirt. You have blood all over it.” She peals away, but not before I manage to pound on the hood.

Rage is coursing through my veins as I raise my eyes to the porch in fear. Ivy has gone completely still as Will lowers her carefully to the ground. Lauren was right. His shirt is covered in Ivy’s blood as it continues to trickle down her legs. For a split second, I think I’m going to collapse, but somehow I find my feet and clumsily charge up the steps, my heart pounding.

“Will, call an ambulance!” I shout over Ivy’s muffled cries as she begins to shake. “Ivy, it’s okay. I’ve got you, baby. Just relax. We’ll get you to the hospital and everything’s going to be all right. Take some deep breaths for me. That’s it.”

I gently lift her into my arms, following Will into the house. I rush into the kitchen, laying her on the table. Frantically, I root through a drawer for a clean towel before returning to Ivy’s side. I’m terrified of what I’m going to have to do next.

“Ivy, honey? Open your legs for me, okay? I’m going to have to try and stop the bleeding until they get here, all right?” I swallow hard as it turns into a steady flow, dripping onto the floor. She complies, her breathing ragged. There’s so much blood. I bite my lip hard. There’s no way she’s still pregnant. There are thick clots on her upper thighs, and I try not to look as I apply pressure to the towel to stem the flow.

“They’re on their way!” Will cries, running into the kitchen. He stops dead when he sees just how bad things are. “Umm…do you need me to do anything else?” He runs his hands through his hair, not even realizing they’re covered in Ivy’s blood. It’s everywhere—on him, on me, on her.

“No, just get out!” I yell at him, and he hastily departs.

This isn’t something he should be a part of. There’s no place for him here. He brought this to our doorstep. We were done with Lauren and he had to bring her back into our lives. I should’ve never encouraged Ivy to work on that damn screenplay. Just look at the havoc it’s caused. It’s probably going to cost us our child.

Ivy’s face is white as her eyes roam across the ceiling, guessing the magnitude of the situation. She’s conscious but she’s miles away from me. Her body’s rejecting what our love created. If only she’d stayed in bed. Why the hell did she have to come to the door? At this point, I don’t care who Cassidy slept with. It’s not important. That part of my life is over whether I like it or not. This second chance is what I dreamed of, hoped and prayed for on my knees, and now it’s being taken away from me too. A shudder runs through me as I try to contain my emotions. I can’t break down in front of her. I have to be strong, just until I can be alone. She didn’t have to protect me from Cassidy. She already saved me from her.

I hear the wail of the ambulance pull up as Will directs them inside. I pray that somehow it’s not too late. Somehow they’ll be able to save our unborn child. Ivy shouldn’t have to go through something like this. I’ve already experienced the loss of a child. I know what it feels like, and I should’ve done everything in my power to spare her such a fate. I should’ve put my foot down. I should not have let her go to L.A. I should’ve slammed the door in Lauren’s face when I saw her coming.

But now it’s too late.

I watch helplessly as the paramedics transfer her body onto a stretcher and rush her out of the kitchen. I follow behind them blindly, not even reaching for a coat and forgetting about my wallet and keys. My only thought is about her and how I’m going to get her through this.

Chapter Sixteen

Ivy

My baby. My sweet, precious baby…

My fingers find the corner of the hospital bed sheet as I stare at a pumpkin decoration hanging on the wall. Oh yeah, today’s Halloween. I almost forgot. With everything going on, I lost track of time. I remember thinking about what I was going to dress the baby up as next year. I’ve always loved those fuzzy lamb costumes. But now there might not even be a baby. I scrunch up my face to keep from crying. I don’t know how there can be. I lost so much blood.

After being rushed to the city hospital twenty miles away, the doctor stemmed the bleeding and conducted a barrage of tests. Eric is sitting motionless beside me as we wait to hear the results. It doesn’t look good. One of the nurses even gasped when she was cleaning me up.

Eric isn’t saying much either. Besides repeatedly asking if I’m okay, he remains pretty stoic. This has to be hell for him to have to go through this again. I’m young. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I can’t understand why this is happening. I hate not having control over my own body. I didn’t mean to get so upset this morning, but I couldn’t let Eric find out about Cassidy. It was up to me to protect him, and I failed. And now he’s shutting himself off from me. I can feel it. And I’m powerless to do anything about it in this state.

I study his profile. He has a far away look in his eyes like he’s zoned out to where I can’t reach him. I thought he’d be angrier, but he’s not. He seems more defeated, like someone took the wind out of his sails. It pains me to see him so listless, so lethargic. It’s like he’s closing in on himself, his spirit drained. And it scares me because this must have been how he looked after Cassidy died. Those months when he shut out the world and retreated into his anguish. I don’t want that to happen again. I’d do anything to bring him back to me—to restore his hope, to make things okay. I just don’t know how.

If he’s shutting me out, then I have to make amends. I put our baby in jeopardy by stepping onto that porch to confront Lauren. I was aware that what I was doing was dangerous. I should have stayed in bed. But I didn’t want her to be the one to tell him about Cassidy. He needed to hear it from me. I would’ve been able to find the words to soften the blow. Instead, Lauren ambushed him.

The whole thing just makes me so mad. I could have prevented this, but I didn’t think she’d act that fast. We were only home a couple of hours before she went on the attack. Sure, she’s vindictive, but she’s not crazy. She plans her every move well in advance. She could’ve tortured me for months, hanging it over my head. But she didn’t. She struck hard and she struck first, not her usual approach.

She must really have a lot to lose. It’s the last card she has to play and she dealt it early in the game. She’s desperate to maintain some kind of tie to Eric, but he’ll never forgive her for this, especially if I end up losing the baby. What possible satisfaction could she get out of it? I can’t believe she’s that sadistic that she would take such pleasure in our pain.

But forget about Lauren and her twisted schemes. I need to get Eric to talk to me. He’s way too quiet, and I’m worried about him. I have to find out what sort of thoughts are running through his head. He can’t keep everything locked inside. As far as our baby is concerned, we’re in this together. He can’t shoulder the burden alone. We have to be there for each other, not run in opposite directions.

“Eric?” I shift my head on the pillow, my eyes pleading with him to look at me.

“Not now, Ivy,” he reprimands softly.

“But we have to talk about this,” I insist, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

“Lie back down.” He gets to his feet, his hands immediately on my shoulders, urging me back under the covers. “You have to stay calm. Don’t go getting yourself all upset again.”

“But you have to talk to me. You can’t keep on sitting there like this isn’t happening,” I protest as he pulls the blanket up to my chin, tucking me in.

“Let’s wait and hear what the doctor says before we start jumping to conclusions and getting all excited.” His hand caresses my hair, giving me hope that his gruff exterior isn’t directed at me.

“But if—” I almost utter Lauren’s name, but his penetrating gaze stops me.

“Don’t, Ivy. Just don’t,” he warns me before retaking his seat. Placing his head in his hands, he sighs deeply. “Not here, at least. I want you to focus on yourself and not worry about all this other stuff, okay?”

“I didn’t want her to be the one to tell you—” I try again, but I fall silent when the door swings open and the doctor enters, examining my chart.

“Well, Miss Thompson. It seems like you are one lucky lady.” I didn’t catch his name before. I was too distracted by the transvaginal ultrasound he was conducting. But his name tag says Patel.

“I’m still pregnant?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.

“You are,” Dr. Patel beams at me.

Eric jumps to his feet, and it’s kind of a funny moment as he wraps the tiny man in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground. Flustered, he shuffles his paperwork, trying to regain his bearings after Eric puts him down.

“Oh, Doc, I’m so sorry. It’s just—” Realizing his overabundance of enthusiasm, Eric quickly starts to apologize.

“It’s quite all right,” the doctor says, straightening his glasses, already endearing me to the warm tones of his Indian accent. “It is a happy day, but we’re not in the clear yet.”

“What do you mean?” Eric questions, his demeanor abruptly changing.

“All things considered, I detected a faint rhythm that could be the baby’s heartbeat, but it was weak and I wasn’t absolutely certain.” Dr. Patel holds out his hands, sticking the chart under his arm. “However, I just got the results of the hCG levels back from the lab and they’re normal, indicating that the fetus is still alive. Miss Thompson did not miscarry.”

“That’s wonderful news,” I respond breathlessly, still not quite believing it.

“But when will you be able to check the heartbeat again?” Eric brushes by the bit of good news, eager to know more.

“Possibly as soon as next week,” Dr. Patel grins encouragingly.

“But you’re sure the baby’s still in there?” Eric questions, placing his hand upon my belly.

“Yes, hormones don’t lie,” Dr. Patel responds, winking at me.

“But what’s causing all of the bleeding and why does it keep happening? Is the baby in some kind of trouble?” Eric asks, not taking his eyes off the doctor as I cover his hand with mine.

“Worst case scenario? It could be a placental abruption,” Dr. Patel answers.

“What is that?” I prod, squeezing Eric’s fingers. It doesn’t sound good.

“There might be a large blood clot at the edge of the placenta, but I’m not sure. We’re going to have to do more ultrasounds as the baby grows in order to be certain,” he advises, glancing at me then at Eric. “But that’s only if the bleeding continues.”

“And if it does?” Eric takes a gulp of air, trying to maintain his composure.

“We’ll monitor the flow and if it’s accompanied by any contractions. My main concern is that I don’t want the placenta to detach completely before we’re able to deliver the baby,” Dr. Patel explains. “If we have to do an emergency C-section, I wouldn’t want it to happen earlier than twenty-two weeks.”

“But what about Ivy? Is her life in danger going forward with this pregnancy?” Eric’s leg starts to twitch, shaking the side of the bed.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat things, Mr. Young. If the placenta detaches while the baby is in utero, both the mother and the baby will be at risk.” Dr. Patel steps forward to place a hand on each of our shoulders. “From this point forward, until I have a clearer picture of what’s going on, I’m going to order that Ivy goes on pelvic rest and stay away from any heavy lifting.”

“Pelvic rest? Does that mean what I think it does?” I frown, waiting for him to confirm my suspicions.

“No sex,” he says, pointing his finger first at me and then at Eric. “You’re to refrain from any activity that might irritate or infect the cervix or the uterus—anything that might cause any unnecessary trauma. No more baths. No more exercising. I’d like you to relax with your feet up as much as possible. While I’m not restricting you to complete bed rest, I don’t want you moving around unless you absolutely have to.”

“No sex?” I mutter, ignoring everything else and focusing on the thing I can’t be without.

“Ivy!” Eric reprimands, obviously embarrassed.

“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Patel chuckles while checking his watch.

“Damn,” I groan, sinking back into the pillows.

Eric shakes his head at me but doesn’t say anything.

“I have marked here that Dr. Teller is your OB-GYN. But since I was the perinatologist on call today, if you would like me to take over your case, I would be more than happy to do so.” Dr. Patel retrieves a business card from his front pocket and begins writing on the back. “I’m giving you the number of my pager so you can reach me at any time. I would feel better knowing that you remained my patient because I specialize in this area, and I want to make sure you receive the kind of care you need.”

Eric’s eyes meet mine and I know we’re on the same page.

“Yes, Doctor. We would like that very much.” I nod as he hands Eric his card.

“Excellent! When you get home, call my office and we’ll set you up with a follow-up appointment for next week. And we’ll listen to the baby’s heartbeat. How does that sound?” Dr. Patel grins, clicking his pen.

“That sounds great, Doc. Thank you.” Eric gets off the bed to shake his hand.

“And if the bleeding gets to be too much, if it fills a pad completely or if it starts and it won’t stop, come straight to the emergency room and call me once you get here, okay?” Dr. Patel asks, encompassing us in his steady gaze. “Until then, get some rest and take it easy. No stress. No worries. Think positive. This baby is a fighter, a champion. I can’t wait to bring it into the world.”

His remark causes both Eric and me to smile as he steps out of the room and moves on to the next patient.

“I really like him,” I exclaim, releasing the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

“Yeah, me too,” Eric says, dragging his chair closer to the bed.

“Except for the no sex part.” I can’t resist teasing him.

“Ivy—”

“I know…I know. But consider yourself warned. After this baby is born, you won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” I grin at him, trying to make light of the situation.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it as he closes his eyes. He knits his brow as he draws in a ragged breath, and I see how much he’s taking what the doctor said to heart. I can’t have him thinking this way. I can’t.

“Eric, look at me,” I command, easing my thumb along the top of his hand.

When he finally does, his eyes are filled with fear. Oh God, why is this happening? Why couldn’t I just have a normal pregnancy? Why does my stupid, messed-up body have to torture him like this?

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I say, fiercely, gripping his hand. “I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that,” he responds as adamantly as I’ve ever seen.

“Listen to me. We don’t even know if there’s anything wrong with the placenta.” I lean forward to grab a fistful of his shirt. “The bleeding might even stop, and it’ll all be fine. All I know is this baby is going to be born when it’s supposed to, and that’s all there is to it.”

He stares at me for a solid minute, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly. He doesn’t want to argue with me, even though he doesn’t agree. He’s never going to have a moment’s peace, knowing that my life is potentially in jeopardy. It’s like reliving his past all over again. The exact type of situation I never wanted to put him in.

“I’m not sick, Eric.” I do my best to encourage him. Anything I can do to rekindle his faith. “I don’t have cancer. I’m not dying.”

“But if we get to the point where it comes to risking your life to save the baby’s, I won’t go through that again. Do you hear me?” he demands as his eyes pierce through me with such sadness. “We’ll end the pregnancy, and we’ll try again another time.”

“I promised you that you would never have to be alone again,” I say shakily. “And I’m not leaving you. No matter what.”

I feel my tears mixing with his as I pull his lips onto mine. It’s a heady kiss full of trepidation and angst and frustration. He breaks away first, choking back a sob as he releases me.

“I know it probably sounds heartless and selfish after the lengths Cassidy went to,” he continues, trying to keep his tears in check in order to say what he has to say. “But it’d be like sacrificing my life as well. I barely made it through something like this once. Please don’t ask me to do it again.”

“Eric—” I groan, not knowing what to say.

“If we find out there is a tear in the placenta this early in the pregnancy and there’s nothing that can be done, then all we have is a waiting game, hoping it doesn’t rupture until we reach twenty-two weeks.” He reaches for my arm, urging me to look at him. “If that’s the case, we’re terminating the pregnancy, and I don’t think anyone would blame us.”

“Of course not,” I mutter, my voice hoarse. “But Eric, when it comes down to it, I don’t think I have it in me to abort this baby. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“But you’d have me live without you?” The raw anger in his voice fills the room.

“Let’s not cross any bridges before we get to them, okay?” I try to soothe him and defuse his anxiety.

“Ivy, you can’t pretend like this isn’t happening. I’m not going to play the ‘what if’ game with you. Because it’s not a game. It’s a situation with dire consequences, and I’m not losing you. I’m not!” he exclaims, sweeping back his arm and knocking a box of tissues off the bedside table.

“Is everything all right in here?” a nurse asks, knocking before opening the door.

“Yes,” I somehow manage to respond.

“Because I heard some yelling in here and Dr. P. told me that no one was to get you agitated,” she says, glaring at Eric.

“That’s fine because I was just leaving,” Eric remarks snidely, brushing past her.

“Eric, where are you going? They’re going to be discharging me soon,” I protest, leaning back on my elbows.

“I need some air. I won’t be long.” He gazes at me defiantly. “Besides, I don’t think it’s good for me to be around you right now.”

The nurse clucks her tongue, watching him depart.

“Well, if you need anything, sweetie, hit the call button. I’m just waiting on the pharmacy to fill that progesterone prescription that Dr. P. ordered for you. Then we’ll get the ball rolling on your release so you can go home and rest.” She walks over to help fluff up my pillows. “And don’t worry about your man. Guys are terrible when it comes to dealing with emotional situations. They all run off like scared chickens. Let him go outside and mutter to himself for a while. He’ll be better when he comes back in, I promise. I see it every day.”

“He’s kind of a special case,” I admit, not wanting to go into too much detail.

“I know who he is. I know his story,” she says, propping her hands on her hips. “Sure, he’s excited, but he doesn’t have to get you all worked up. And my main concern is you, not him. Like I said, he’ll be fine. Ever since I saw him on the news, I’ve been praying for him.”

“You have?” I ask in bewilderment. “Why?”

“Because I’m a firm believer in the power of prayer,” she states matter-of-factly. “God has a reason behind everything whether we’re able to see it or not. I don’t think anything bad is going to happen to you or that baby.”

“How can you be so sure?” I admire her confidence, but there’s a fine line between being realistically positive and simply delusional.

“What he went through with that girl wasn’t for nothing,” she says, smoothing her mocha-colored hand over my forehead. “What he learned in his time of trouble was earned at the expense of a crippling loss. And honey child, God just ain’t that cruel. That wisdom he gained about life and about himself is gonna carry the two of you through this.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” I answer, not quite sure how to respond to her heartfelt proclamation.

“Nice? Divine inspiration is more like it.” She smiles, the warmth of her laughter filling the broken place in my heart. “Listen to Nurse Wanda now. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen a lot of joy and a lot of heartache after working in this hospital for forty years. God only gives you what you can handle, although I don’t know why he keeps on putting that man of yours to the test.”

“Or past the breaking point,” I mumble, wishing I could get out of this bed and comfort him.

“Nah, darlin.’ Not that far. He has you now. He’ll never go down that road again,” Wanda assures me, tucking me back under the covers, just like Eric had done.

“But what if something happens—” I don’t even want to think about it.

“If, if, if—nothing but if with you and him,” she chides, patting me on the head. “God has a plan for each and every one of us. Cling to that and don’t let go. No more ifs. He will guide you through any storm. He will not leave you unprotected.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” I say, smiling up at her. I’m not religious by any means, but her words are definitely giving me something to think about.

“Where’s your mother, child? You’re nothing but a babe yourself. Why ain’t she here, holding your hand?” Wanda glances down at me in concern.

I want to say, “None of your damn business.” But I don’t. From anyone else, it would feel like prying, but I can tell, for whatever reason, Wanda truly cares. She’s not just being nosy.

“Because she’s probably drunk,” I say without emotion. “I moved out when I went away to college, and I never really went back. I worked most summers and stayed in the dorm while everyone else went home. She’s never really been there for me, you know? I still haven’t even told her that I’m pregnant.”

“But you still talk?” Wanda prompts.

“Every once and a while on the phone. She’s usually complaining about how she doesn’t have enough money and that I could be helping her more instead of only being concerned about myself.” I keep talking, unable to stop now that I have a willing audience. “She doesn’t understand why receiving a degree is so important to me, when I could be working two jobs and supporting the both of us.”

“What does your man say about her?” Wanda asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Honestly?” I shrug my shoulders. “They’ve never met. I’ve never even told him that much about her.”

“And he doesn’t ask?”

“He tried to a couple of times, but I usually change the subject or give him a few vague details. She wasn’t the best mother growing up. She hit me a lot when she was tired and hung over. Or else she was out with a different man every night. We never had any money. I remember going to school with holes in my sneakers and wearing secondhand jeans. That’s what made me so determined to make something of myself. And if I’m able to have this baby, I’m going to be there for it. But now Eric’s telling me I have to give it up.”

I collapse into a fresh round of tears as Wanda pats me on the back.

“There there, child. You just get all those bad feelings out of that body of yours and away from that little peanut in your tummy. They’re not doing the two of you any good. You both need to remain strong.” Wanda hands me a tissue to dab my eyes as the door opens.

I look up hoping to see Eric, but it’s just another nurse.

“Wanda, Miss Thompson is good to go. Her prescription was just delivered to the desk and Dr. P. signed off on her discharge papers.” She gives me a quick smile before handing the form over to Wanda.

“Thanks, Carol. Her man isn’t out there, is he? I’m going to need his signature too,” Wanda states, indicating the line where I have to sign.

My stomach drops when I realize Eric is probably paying for this out of pocket. If my medical problems continue, we won’t need Lauren to ruin us. I’ll bankrupt him myself.

“Yeah, he’s by the elevator, pacing like a tomcat,” Carol winks, taking the paper from me.

“Tell him to come back in here if he’s cooled down, but not before. Dr. P. has Miss Thompson under strict orders not to have to deal with any drama from temperamental men.” Wanda nudges my arm, causing me to grin.

“You got it,” Carol says, giggling as she steps out.

“Do you feel better now?” Wanda asks, sliding the curtain around the bed to help me change.

“I do. Thank you, Wanda,” I say wholeheartedly as she helps me untie the straps of the hospital gown. “I really hope I don’t have to wear another one of these any time soon.”

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Wanda concurs. “Talk about drafty!”

We’re both laughing as Eric walks in.

“Just getting her changed, Mr. Young. We’ll be right with you,” Wanda calls out from behind the curtain.

“No rush. Take your time,” Eric replies, seemingly in better spirits.

“See, I told you,” Wanda mouths. Out loud, she says, “Now, Mr. Young. Miss Thompson lost quite a bit of blood, so she’s going to be a little weak on her feet for the next couple of days. I don’t advise her taking a shower alone, if you catch my drift.” Wanda wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I can only shake my head at her.

“I do.” Eric coughs nervously.

“So you’re going to have to help her, but I’m sure you won’t have any problems doing that, right?” Wanda grins widely, and I pat her arm, signaling her to stop before he runs out of the room again.

“Nope,” he manages to choke out.

“Good, I didn’t think so,” Wanda says, helping me into a pair of ugly sweatpants we had sent up from the gift shop. Unfortunately, the ambulance crew had to cut me out of Eric’s shirt in order to attach leads to my chest to monitor my heart rate. Something I’d rather not think about to be perfectly honest. Knowing that strange guys saw my boobs is a mental image I’d like to forget.

“All right. All set, Mr. Young,” Wanda announces, drawing back the curtain. “Let me have one of the orderlies bring over a wheelchair.”

“That’s not necessary,” Eric says, his eyes fixed on me.

“But sir, she can’t walk all the way—” Wanda objects, but she stops when she sees Eric lift me into his arms.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” I counter, tilting my chin in her direction as Eric carries me out the door.

“What?” Eric asks, peering down at me.

“Nothing, just some girl talk,” I respond, winking at Wanda.

“You take care, honey child. I’ll be praying for you,” Wanda says, tapping me lightly on the shoulder before hustling back to the desk.

“Well, she’s full of life,” Eric comments, distracted as he checks to make sure my prescription is safely in his coat pocket.

“That she is,” I answer, stroking the nape of his neck. “In more ways than one.”

No matter what happens, I’m keeping this baby—whether he agrees with me or not. It’s one of those rare moments where I feel at one with Cassidy, connected to her on a level I never would have imagined possible. I get now why she did what she did. My fears are inconsequential when it comes to the sheer power of bringing a new life into the world. A woman would literally die for her child, and I can understand that pull now. I feel it too.

Eric doesn’t get the last word on this. It’s my body, my decision. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m going to put faith in what Wanda told me. I have to believe there’s some kind of purpose behind all of his pain and suffering. It can’t all be for nothing. It has to count for something.

In my heart of hearts, I know that this baby is destined to do great things. I’m not going to let it down. I will fight for it with everything I’ve got. No one’s going to change my mind no matter the risk—not even Eric.

One way or another, this baby is going to live.

Chapter Seventeen

Eric

“We can just call them. We don’t have to stop over there,” I protest, even though I know it’s already a lost cause as my heart starts to melt while listening to Ivy’s pleas.

“Eric, c’mon. They’re probably worried sick. I promise to stay in the truck. I won’t get out,” Ivy exclaims, naughtily running her hand up and down my thigh, driving me crazy.

“So we’re headed to the garden center then?” Will asks from the driver’s seat as we bounce along the country road.

“You heard the lady,” I reply, defeated. “But only for a short visit. Keep the motor running.”

Ivy’s hand travels to my knee and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes light up when I turn my head to look at her. She’s seated between the two of us to prevent her from being jostled too much. But I hear her wince when we hit a particularly nasty rut.

“Slow down, jerkwad!” I bellow at Will, regretting that I agreed to let him drive us home from the hospital.

“Sorry, Ivy,” Will implores, slowing to a crawl. “I’m just not as familiar with every nook and cranny of these shitty roads as ‘John Boy’ here. If you can even call it a road, it’s more like an overgrown trail.”

“Cool it with the Waltons references, asshole,” I mutter back. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

“If it weren’t for the two of you acting like a couple of kids, I’d be fine,” Ivy says, rolling her eyes.

“He started it,” Will interjects, as we see Shep running over the grassy knoll to greet the truck.

“Yeah well, you should know better. This isn’t the Indy 500,” I retort. “And try not to hit my dog while you’re at it.”

“Enough!” Ivy exclaims, putting a hand over each of our mouths. “You’re supposed to be easing my stress level, not adding to it.”

Pulling her hand away, I snicker. “C’mon, pretty boy. Your lover awaits.”

“Lover?” Ivy questions as Ben drives the tractor out of the garage in preparation for tonight’s haunted hayride.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Young,” Will huffs, clearly miffed at me for letting Ivy in on his secret.

“Someone’s a little cranky after last night’s booty call. I don’t think I ever want to step foot in that woodshed again,” I respond, wrinkling my nose. “Not after what must have gone on in there between the two of you.”

“Wait, let me get this straight—Will and Ben?” Ivy stares at me, open-mouthed.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it straight,” I counter as Will slams his fist against the horn, causing Shep to yelp and my dad to come running out of the store.

“Shut it, Young,” Will warns as Ben raises his head and glances over at the truck.

“Isn’t he a little young for you, Will?” Ivy asks.

“He’s eighteen,” Will replies haughtily.

“Barely legal,” I mumble under my breath.

“Enough!” Will screams.

I open the door as Ben approaches the truck cautiously.

“Everything okay?” Ben asks, glancing at Ivy and then at Will.

“Just peachy,” Will snipes, sliding out of the truck and storming toward the greenhouse.

“You sure?” Ben questions again. “And I’m not talking about the drama queen.”

“For now,” Ivy says, not wanting to say more. She doesn’t seem to care for Ben. I wonder why.

“How’s it going, little lady? All patched up?” my dad asks with Shep hot on his heels. I called him from the hospital so he knows we didn’t lose the baby. “My tiny speck of a grandchild still hanging in there?”

“It sure is, Frank,” she replies, bestowing on him a dazzling smile. She can’t keep buying into this false hope. I’m not going to let her give in to it. She has to come to terms with just how dangerous things really are. In the meantime, I’m not going to sit here and listen to my dad encourage her.

“I’ll be right back,” I grumble, following Will toward the greenhouse. Ben watches me out of the corner of his eye, but my dad is too preoccupied with talking to Ivy to notice my sudden change in mood. I don’t want to start a war and get her all upset. I just need some space. I feel like I’m going to explode.

When I draw nearer, Will kicks an overturned pail and it clatters against the wall. “Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs as I close the door, sealing us in the climate-controlled room.

It’s pretty humid in here. I unzip my jacket and look around. The Christmas poinsettias are coming along nicely. Customers will start purchasing them right after Thanksgiving, so we only have a few more weeks to get them potted and ready for sale. There’s so much that has to get done and I’m already behind. I sigh, easing myself onto a wooden slab holding a row of late-blooming mums. We’ve already had the first frost of the season. No one’s going to want them now. They’re just another lost source of income down the drain.

Will continues his rampage, knocking over a garden hose. He starts issuing a string of profanities as it kicks on, spraying his legs. “Turn this damn thing off!” he calls out, already soaked below the knees. I take my time going over to the spigot, heartily enjoying the show. He tries nudging the nozzle away with his toe but only ends up squirting himself in the face.

“I said you could shower at the garden center, but I didn’t mean inside the greenhouse,” I tease, throwing him a beat-up, old rag to dry off.

“Could this day get any worse?” he sputters, wiping his face.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he retorts, rolling up his sleeves.

“Did you talk to Lauren?”

“No,” he exhales, meeting my eyes.

“Why not?” I bear down on him.

“Because there might be another way we can come at her.” Will bends down to recoil the hose. “Ben and I shared some interesting pillow talk last night.”

“Really?” I dig my nails into my clenched fist, desperately trying to remain calm.

“I think we have a common enemy. It appears the Prices got his brother fired from his job at the high school, and he might have some leverage we can use against her.”

“We’re not having this discussion,” I mutter, pacing around the giant puddle on the floor.

“Dude, I know he might have banged Cassidy but—” Will stops as I advance on him.

“Shut the fuck up, Carter!” I yell, tightening my jaw. “We don’t even know if that’s true or just more of Lauren’s bullshit. And until then, I’m not going to waste any time thinking about the past when Ivy could—”

“I get it, man. I do. You have other things to worry about. But you’re going to have to go there eventually. You can’t keep Ben in the dark forever. He’s bound to find out what Lauren’s saying about his brother. You know how this town is.” Will walks over to the panel of windows. His eyes are trained on Ben as he hitches the hay wagon to the tractor. “I just don’t want him to get hurt. He thinks the Prices got his brother fired because of him. He has no clue that he might have been involved with Cassidy.”

“No offense, Will, but right now Ben’s feelings aren’t my top priority.” I join him at the window, peering out as my dad leans up against the truck, chatting with Ivy. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to see you caring about someone besides yourself for a change, but c’mon. You’ve known Ben for like a day? How do you know we can trust him when it comes to pulling one over on Lauren?”

“What do you mean?” Will asks, narrowing his eyes.

“What if, in the meantime, Lauren cuts a deal with his brother? Reinstates his job at the school? Pays him off? He’s going to say anything she tells him to say and we’ll never be able to separate her lies from what really happened between him and Cassidy.” I step closer, watching my breath fog up the glass. “Can you really consider Ben such a valuable ally?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Will shrugs, lowering his head. “But don’t you want to know if it’s true? What if Cassidy’s baby wasn’t even yours?”

I grab the collar of Will’s shirt, shoving him up against the wall. “Don’t test me, asshole. Not today.”

“All right, dude. Chill’ax, okay?” Will urges, breathing heavily. “But you’re going to have to deal with this shit. I’m just trying to help. It’s not like you have a ton of people you can talk to about it. You need to get your head on straight for Ivy’s sake.”

“Let me be the one to worry about Ivy.” I release my hold on him and he massages his throat. “Stay the fuck out of it. Understand?”

“Bro, you’ve got some serious anger issues you need to work on,” Will remarks, adjusting his shirt. “Just saying.” He retreats, holding up his hands while backing away.

“You don’t think I know that?” I’m disgusted with myself for allowing him to see this side of me. I’m usually so good at keeping it hidden. But after today’s events, my willpower is starting to crack.

“Well, I wouldn’t advise getting back in that truck if you’re just going to go home and take it out on her.” Will’s stare is intense, even as he clutches his side, trying to catch his breath.

He’s right. I have to get a grip on my emotions. I can’t go out there like this. Ivy needs me. I have to be strong for her sake. I can’t let her down.

“She could die, Will,” I spit out, biting my lip to keep my emotions in check.

“I know, man. I know,” Will says consolingly. “But we’re not going to let that happen, right?” He slaps me on the shoulder, encouraging me to suck it up. “Just remember, Ivy isn’t Cassidy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I mutter. “I’m realizing that more and more each day. But if the same thing happens—”

“Ut uh, don’t even go there. Just turn yourself around and get the hell out of my sight. I’ve had enough of looking at your ugly mug for one day,” Will smirks at me, gesturing toward the door.

“Don’t you want a ride up to the house?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Nah, I’m gonna stick around here a little longer. See if I can work on obtaining that leverage I mentioned,” Will responds, and I don’t have to turn around to know that he’s staring at Ben. “Don’t wait up.”

I still find it weird that the two guys I was envious of are actually into each other, but I shake my head and let it pass. Whatever makes them happy, I suppose.

Darkness is falling as I approach the truck. Ivy already has the headlights on and the engine running, waiting for me. It appears my father went back inside with Shep. It’s getting colder out, and I rezip my jacket before getting behind the wheel.

“You were gone long,” Ivy comments. The heater’s cranked up full blast and country music is filtering through the speakers.

“Yeah, some things needed sorting out.” I hate keeping things from her, but now is not the time. I’ll fill her in when she’s feeling better. She looks so worn out sitting there, shivering. “Are you still cold?”

“I’m freezing. I feel like I can’t get warm.” She has her hands pressed up against the vents, trying to soak up the heat.

“Come here.” I stretch my arm across the back of the seat, inviting her to curl up next to me until we get home. “I’ll warm you up.”

“Mmmm, just the thing I need,” she giggles, nestling herself against me.

I reach down to take one of her hands in mine. “Ivy! Your hands are like ice.” I hit the brake and lower my arm to rub her tiny hands between mine to get the circulation going. “Is that better?”

“Almost,” she says, looking at me from beneath her eyelashes. “But you know what would really help?”

“What?” I ask, ready to give her whatever she wants.

“Having you in the shower with me,” she responds playfully. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Ivy,” I moan, turning my attention back to the road.

“You seem tense,” she says, studying my reaction. “I don’t know what went down between you and Will back there, but just let it go.”

“Already forgotten,” I reply, smiling down at her.

“Good,” she chuckles, sliding my arm around her shoulders. “Frank is going to keep Shep at his house for a while, so we’ll have the cabin all to ourselves.”

“Ivy, you heard what the doctor said. We can’t—” I protest.

“Have sex. I know,” she grumbles as I pull up to the porch. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other.”

“You need to relax,” I admonish, getting out to help her down. “I have no problem helping you wash up, but that’s it. No fooling around.”

“But I want you in there with me,” she demands as I lift her out of the truck, carrying her in my arms. “Naked,” she whispers in my ear, and I immediately feel my dick stiffen.

I climb the porch steps, trying to ignore what she said. She’s already reaching into the front pocket of my jeans, and my arms start to tremble. “Ivy, don’t—” I manage to utter as she fingers me.

“I’m just reaching for your keys, silly,” she feigns innocence. “We have to get in the house.” She draws them out slowly, making sure the jagged edges graze my length along the way. The sensation causes my knees to buckle, forcing me to brace myself against the doorframe. “Don’t drop me,” she laughs, hanging on to me tightly as she slides the key into the knob.

Finally, we’re in and I don’t waste any time, kicking the door shut. So many memories are racing through my head. Straddling her on my lap the first time I kissed her. Pinning her up against the wall the night I rescued her from behind the pizzeria. Tearing her out of her dress before I slipped inside of her. It’s killing me that I can’t do any of those things to her now.

It’s chilly in here. The fire is out. I’ll have to build another one. But first, I have to warm her up. Striding up the steps, I enter our room. The bed is unmade after our abrupt departure this morning. I’m afraid to go in the kitchen. There are probably bloodstains all over the table. I’ll clean it up later. I don’t want Ivy to be reminded of what almost happened, and it strengthens my resolve to keep my hands to myself as I move into the bathroom.

Lowering her gently, I turn on the shower to get the hot water going. She stands before me with a pout on her face. Instead, I bend down and unlace her sneakers. Next, I concentrate on removing her sweatpants as she places her hands on my shoulders. She’s wearing a pair of high-waist briefs the hospital gave her, not one of her sexy thongs. I would normally tease her about her new granny panties, but I’m terrified. What if she’s still bleeding? I gather my courage and start pulling them over her hips. Her breathing increases as the pad that was wedged up against her comes into view. There’s a bright red stain on it, but it’s moderate, nothing heavy. The flow has eased since this morning.

“Eric, I think I need to sit down,” Ivy says, grasping her head. “I feel a little dizzy.”

I shift my weight, putting one arm around her waist to hold her steady. I back her up slowly, placing her onto the toilet. I step away to give her some space while sliding the briefs over her ankles. There are goose bumps covering her legs. The sooner I get her in the shower, the better.

“I have to pee,” she says weakly. “Do you mind waiting outside the door?”

This is one of her little quirks. No matter how intimate we’ve become, she doesn’t like me in the bathroom with her when she has to go—and vice versa. One time I nonchalantly came in to urinate while she was brushing her teeth at the sink and I thought she was going to castrate me on the spot. It’s one of her pet peeves, but now I’m not so sure I should give in to her.

“What if you pass out and hit your head?” I ask, not wanting to leave her side.

“Eric, please. I’m begging you. I can’t hold it anymore,” she whimpers, pushing me away.

Dr. P. said her hormones might be out of whack, especially with that new prescription he put her on. One minute she’s horny, the next she’s crying. Talk about being on an emotional roller coaster. Nothing’s more erratic than the mood swings of a pregnant woman.

I get up without further argument and stand just inside the bedroom. I can just about hear her steady stream over the noise of the shower.

“Close the door!” she yells, mortified.

“Then how I am I going to know when you’re done?” I question her.

“I’ll tell you!” she shouts back.

I know better than to argue with her extreme modesty when it comes to her bathroom habits. There’s no changing her now. She is the way she is. I’ve never really lived with a girl before. I don’t know if they’re all like that or if it’s just her. All I know is that guys could care less who they pee in front of.

A few seconds later, I hear the toilet flush, but I wait for her signal.

“I’m done,” she calls out, so I slip back in. She’s already trying to remove her sweatshirt and I help her pull her arms through. She’s now completely naked as she stands in front of me, self-consciously crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You don’t have to cover yourself,” I reassure her. “It’s just me.”

“I know, but I feel like some kind of invalid now,” she mutters.

“Hey,” I reply, lifting up her chin to meet my gaze. “You are beautiful.” I kiss her lips softly then bend down to kiss her belly. She runs her fingers through my hair, playing with the ends. I sit back on my knees and look up at her. “Beautiful,” I whisper again.

I see tears glistening in her eyes as I grip her waist and run my thumbs over her thighs. Steam is filling the room as the running water continues to pound against the tub. I better get her in there before the hot water runs out.

I stand up, kicking off my shoes. Quickly, I uncinch my belt and lower my fly. Stepping out of my jeans, I fumble with my socks before yanking my shirt over my head. My face is on fire, knowing she’s watching my every move. I pull back the shower curtain and offer her my hand.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she sniffles.

“My boxers are staying on,” I inform her. “As an insurance policy.”

“Well, don’t think they can’t come off,” she says, smiling at me begrudgingly before stepping under the spray.

I follow her in, making sure to keep an arm around her waist for support. I guide her beneath the faucet, smoothing her hair back with my hand. I reach for her shampoo, working up a good lather. The citrus fragrance is so intoxicating, and it’s the scent I most associate with Ivy. I massage her scalp with her fingers, trying hard to ignore my throbbing dick as she moans with pleasure.

“That feels so good,” she murmurs, grasping my hips.

My hands seem so large against her head as she shimmies against me. I back up a little and start rinsing the suds away. I can’t let her get too close, no matter how much I want her. She’s off limits until April.

What if we never have sex again? I try to shut my mind off, but I’m assaulted with a barrage of questions. What if the placenta detaches? What if she dies before giving birth? What if I never know what it’s like to come inside of her again? What if she never experiences an orgasm for the rest of her life?

I can see why she’s so willing to take such a risk now. This could very well be it. This is as intimate as we’re going to get. I can’t put my hands on her. I can’t put my mouth on her. I can’t be inside of her. Bottom line, I can’t take her anywhere close to fulfillment. Nothing that could—how did Dr. P. phrase it? Traumatize the uterus?

Nothing about this is fair. Not for me, and especially not for her. I feel like a jerk now, thinking that I might have somehow prevented this. We were having sex a lot during her first trimester, probably more than we should have. I didn’t stop and think about the potential danger to the fetus. I didn’t think I could possibly be hurting Ivy by making love to her while she was pregnant.

She must be getting tired because she leans into me, placing her head underneath my chin. I stroke the side of her face as the water pelts her back. Her skin feels so silky soft under the shower, like dew on a rose petal. I kiss the top of her head before picking up her loofah. Squirting some body wash onto it, I start rubbing it along the length of her arm. Slowly drawing her away from me, I position her in the middle of the tub and get to work.

I run the loofah under her arms, over her shoulders, and across her breasts, taking care not to linger too long in one particular area. My thumb dips into her clavicle as she elongates her neck for me. I continue a trail down her stomach, leaving her bellybutton filled with suds. I bend down, cleansing each leg from thigh to ankle. She holds on to my shoulders as I pick up each foot, running the loofah between her toes. She relaxes as I glide it up her back and between her shoulder blades.

I swirl my thumbs against her hips, preparing her for what I have to do next. It’s time for the most sensitive area. I place my hand on her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. She groans slightly but doesn’t resist. The nurse did a pretty good job cleaning her up down there, but I’m going to take my time until she’s immaculate. Roughing the loofah up against my palm, I create a mountain of soapy foam. Kneeling before her, I start with her thighs and work inward. The water flowing off her body starts to turn pink, but Dr. P. said that’s normal.

I look up at Ivy and her eyes are closed.

“Are you okay?” I ask, blinking as droplets from my hair roll down my face.

“Uh-huh,” she hums, not opening her lips.

“Ivy, tell me what’s wrong,” I urge, halting my progress until she answers me.

“Nothing, Eric,” she responds, finally opening her eyes. “I just never thought…” She pauses to collect herself, taking a shuddering breath. “That a man could be so good to me.”

I feel myself choking up as she looks at me so tenderly. Doesn’t she know she means the world to me? I would do anything for her—anything.

“I love you, Ivy,” I say simply. My voice sounds rough because I never said those words to her with so much emotion before.

“I know,” she sighs, causing her belly bump to rise and fall. “I hear it in every word. I feel it in every touch. I see it in every look. How did I get so lucky?”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” I admit, standing up to nuzzle her nose. I glide my lips across hers, kissing her softly.

“I love you, Eric,” she utters, and I know it’s coming from the depths of her soul.

I fold her in my arms, holding her close. Even while she’s pregnant, my callused hands are still able to span her waist. Reaching behind her, I turn the water off and pull back the curtain. Shaking out the last folded towel on the shelf, I wrap her in it, letting myself drip dry.

I plug in her blow dryer and quickly get to work on her hair. She can’t go to bed with a wet head. I sit her next to the sink, and we don’t say a word for the next ten minutes or so. We just look at each other, and it’s enough.

I wipe away the condensation on the mirror when I’m done and she laughs when she sees how frizzy her hair is. She normally styles it so that it’s straight and sleek, but I kind of like it wild and untamed. It looks good on her—natural.

She can barely keep her eyes open as I carry her into the bedroom. I dig through the bottom drawer for her flannel nightgown. She starts to protest when she sees it.

“Ivy, you’re not going to sleep wearing just my shirt. It’s too cold for that now. You need to stay warm,” I tell her, patting her dry with the ends of the towel.

“But I want something of yours. Not this old thing.” She tosses it back at me. “I want something that smells like you.”

“You’re nuts,” I tease her, although my cheeks redden at her request. Something about it is incredibly erotic. I unzip my suitcase and root through it. “How about this long-sleeved t-shirt and my pajama pants?”

“Perfect.” She smiles at me, the towel draped haphazardly around her.

“Hold on. I’ll be right back.” I wink at her before ducking into the bathroom to retrieve one of her pads from the counter under the sink. I make one last stop at her lingerie drawer for a sensible pair of underwear.

She glances at me shyly as I remove the towel from her body and hold out the arms of my shirt, guiding one arm through and then the other before sliding it over her head. I make a valiant effort not to stare at her breasts while I’m dressing her, but her nipples stand out against the fabric as I pull the shirt down over them.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing my arm sympathetically. “This isn’t going to be easy. From now on, I’ll stop making it so hard for you. I’ll cooperate. I’ll behave.”

“You will?”

“You’re so good to me,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve it.”

She stands up and I help her step into her underwear. I start opening the pad, but she pulls it out of my hands, shaking her head. She takes care of it as I hold up the pants for her to get into. Smoothing the sheets as best I can, I help her get under the covers.

She stares up at me. “Don’t be long.”

“I won’t,” I respond, caressing her cheek. She tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling me down until my lips are on hers. We kiss softly for several minutes before I finally come up for air. “I thought you were going to be good,” I chuckle.

“That is being good,” she smiles, running her thumb across my lips. “Besides, I think you have another fire to light. But first I think you should change out of those wet boxers…and let me watch.”

I playfully pinch the tip of her nose as she squeals, but I’ll willingly comply with that demand. Moving away from the bed, I turn my back as I strip them from my body. She’s not heckling me to turn around, and I’m surprised. I peek over my shoulder, and find that her eyes are already closed.

I smile wearily as I get dressed before rubbing my hair with her discarded towel. She’s exhausted. She needs to rest. But I can’t help feeling let down. It’s like she left me suddenly, even though she’s right here.

And it terrifies me to picture a world without her in it.

Chapter Eighteen

Will

“Mind if I borrow Ben for a minute?” I ask Frank out of politeness, but I really don’t care what he says. “I have an errand I need him to help me with.”

“Sure, go ahead. It’s been pretty slow this afternoon,” Frank says, lifting his eyes from the copy of the Gazette he was reading. “Just don’t tell my son,” he chuckles, and I play along like it’s some kind of inside joke between the two of us.

“Where is Eric anyway?” I ask, glancing around. “I haven’t seen him today.”

“He went back to the house to check on Ivy. He’s nervous about leaving her alone all day. He’s afraid she’s going to try to run a marathon or something.” Frank grimaces, shaking his head. “I wish that boy would stop being so damn protective of her, but he’s scared.”

“Yeah, I know he is.” I’m not one to get sentimental, and Eric’s not my favorite person in the world, but how much can one guy take?

“Anything else you need, Frank?” Ben asks, ignoring me as he walks in with a hefty bag of ice melt slung over his shoulder.

“Nah, I think that’s it for today, but it seems like Will needs you for something,” Frank says innocently, unaware of our situation.

“Oh yeah?” Ben’s all business in front of Frank, but under the surface I can tell he’s pleased by the interruption.

“Can you give me a ride into town? Eric has his truck up at the house and I don’t want to bother him if he’s with Ivy.” I lay it on thick for Frank’s benefit.

“Sure, I could do that.” Ben wipes his hands on his jeans after heaving the fifty-pound bag on top of the pile. “You ready?”

“Uh huh,” I respond casually, despite my eagerness.

“See you tomorrow, Frank.” Ben waves, heading out the door.

“Okay, Ben,” Frank says absentmindedly, already lost in the sports section. “Goodnight, fellas.”

The bell above the door jingles as we step out into the cold. Ben’s still playing it cool, but I feel a jolt of excitement from walking next to him, side by side, the shadows we’re casting on the ground practically touching. He’s a lot brawnier than I am, all solid muscle, but not big and bulky like a linebacker. Oh no, he’s tight and trim in all the right places.

“I didn’t think I’d be back in your hillbilly truck so soon,” I flirt with him as he disengages the automatic locks. “Last night was pretty fantastic.”

For a split second, he blushes before getting behind the wheel. “What’s this all about?”

“We need to continue our conversation,” I respond breezily, fastening my seatbelt.

“I don’t think so.” He’s wary of my motives. “But we have to go somewhere after you fed Frank that line of bull, so give me a destination.”

“That same secluded spot would be nice,” I drawl, igniting the fire in his eyes. “And this time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Forget it, Will,” he spits out, gunning the engine. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“Yeah, but you have to reconsider. There’s too much at stake for you to cling to your stupid jock image. Now’s the time when you have to take one for the team.” I appeal to his better nature, hoping he won’t shut me out.

“You’re not outing me, Will.” He roars past the mailbox at the end of the lane and keeps going. “I don’t care what you say. I’ve got too much to lose.”

“But think about it for a minute,” I respond, taking a diplomatic approach. “You’re going to be leaving town in a matter of months. You’ll be away from these small-minded people. Their opinions won’t matter anymore. And besides, you’re not admitting you’re gay to the whole town—just to Lauren.”

“Yeah, who just so happens to have the power to ruin me,” Ben laughs cruelly. “Are you out of your mind?”

“She’d rather die than expose Ryan and you know it.” I hate throwing his previous relationship back in his face, but he’s not giving me any choice. “We have to hit her where it counts. Threaten her. Scare her into thinking that you’re going to go public with all of the details and that the whole town’s gonna find out that Ryan was your boyfriend.”

“Ryan gutted me, Will, okay? I didn’t think I’d ever get over him. He was it for me.” He takes his hand off the steering wheel to run it over the stubble on his face.

It’s one of his nervous gestures that I find so endearing, but I can’t let his cuteness distract me from the mission at hand. He needs to cooperate, and he’s going to. I admire his spirit, but it’s misdirected. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, but I’m all about self-preservation. And I’m not about to let everything fall apart just because he’s expected to bang every cheerleader on the squad. Life is more complicated than that.

“So Lauren’s dad caught you fooling around with his son, and he took it out on your brother to keep you quiet. Don’t you think Lauren’s already figured it out? She might be a crazy bitch, but she’s not dumb.” I take it as a good omen when Ben pulls over. We’re out in the open, and it’s not exactly private if someone happens to drive by, but it’ll do. At least I know what I’m saying is starting to penetrate his thick skull.

“My brother lost his job because of me, and he doesn’t even know it.” He stares at the barren trees out the windshield. “Ryan was taking a lot of heat from the guys at school. They knew what he was even if they couldn’t prove it. He hated the idea of them harassing him. So he’d do stupid shit to try and prove his manhood. He could never accept himself for who he is. I loved him so much but it wasn’t enough for him. I tried to keep him safe, but I failed.”

“You tried,” I reassure him, stroking the back of his head as he lowers it against the wheel.

“He was always so careful, but I got him drunk at his dad’s lodge to loosen him up. I wanted to enjoy our weekend together, but he’d only ever touch me after he’d had a few beers. It’s like he was repulsed by what we were doing, but he still wanted it. We had the music on pretty loud and we didn’t hear the garage door go up. His father caught us in the act and all hell broke lose. I never touched him again.” Ben stops and I lean forward to wrap him in my arms.

“Did his father threaten you?” I ask, somewhat afraid to hear the whole story.

“No, but I can’t help but think he set my brother up,” Ben continues, lifting his head. “Ryan went off the rails after that, doing messed-up shit. He was backing girls up against lockers to cop a feel. He was making suggestive comments while standing in the lunch line. He was texting naked pictures of himself to the prom committee. It was like he was trying to prove a point or something. Well, during his testosterone-fueled rampage, my brother caught him spying on the girls’ swim team. He had no idea what had happened between us and he reported him. Ryan didn’t get punished, but my brother got fired.”

“Why didn’t you speak up then?” I hover over him, wishing he had done the right thing when it counted but also understanding the shame that went into making such a confession.

“Because I was in the process of applying to college. I needed recommendations from my teachers and coaches. I was up for a free ride. Why would I throw that all away? Besides, what college team has an openly gay quarterback? Name one,” he challenges me, his beautiful face distorted in anger.

“I can’t,” I admit freely. “But by protecting yourself, you let others get hurt.”

“And you’re suddenly the morality police?” he huffs.

“No, but I will be one of the people Lauren destroys if you don’t speak up.” I have to convince him to stand up to her. He’s on the fence. All he needs is a little push. “I came back here with nothing. I’m living in a woodshed for fuck’s sake. She destroyed my love life and severely damaged my reputation in Hollywood, all in one fell swoop. The one thing I had going for me was the screenplay, and she even managed to take that away from me too. Trust me, I know what it feels like to lose everything.”

“So you’d put me in the same predicament?” he asks, flabbergasted. “Sorry, Will, but I’m not a loser. I’m a winner.”

“If you threaten Lauren by going after Ryan, you could be more than a winner. You could be a savior.” I let the word linger in the air. In the world of sports, what player doesn’t have a hero complex? “You could save me. You could save Ivy. You could save that unborn baby.”

“And if I confront Lauren about Ryan and she refuses to cooperate, what then?” Ben is considering my proposal. He’s not dead set against it. I can see the gears turning in his mind.

“We call her bluff and I get my screenplay back.” I rub my hands together, giddy with anticipation.

“What do you have on her?” He looks at me expectantly.

“That your brother didn’t sleep with Cassidy.” I wait for the other shoe to drop.

“Wait a minute! What?” Ben mutters, scrambling to recover from his initial shock over my announcement. “But you’ve never even talked to Tim. How do you know he—?”

“Actually fucked Lauren instead?” I interrupt, running my hand down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my fingers. “Let’s just say that when someone gives me an assignment, I do my homework. You knew, but you were never going to tell me, were you?”

“Will, I—” he starts, but I don’t want to hear his excuses.

“You were going to hang me out to dry. I get it. Family comes first.” I withdraw my hand and sit back in the seat. “Your brother must be enjoying the high life, living as a kept man. I bet he’s charging Lauren an exorbitant amount to play the dude who came between Eric and Cassidy, America’s favorite couple. Silence doesn’t come cheap—on either end. He fulfills the role she created for him and she doesn’t ruin your potentially lucrative future as a football star. Tim is probably looking at the big picture, hoping to reap the financial rewards if you do ever make it to the NFL. Fat chance, but don’t tell him that. But then again, I’m not a fan of mutually destructive blackmail.”

“Shut up. You don’t know anything about Tim,” Ben asserts.

“But I have a pretty good idea that he doesn’t like to work for a living and he knows a good thing when he sees it. Lauren would do anything to avoid a scandal with Ryan, and you’re Tim’s meal ticket so there’s no way he was going to let you take the fall. I give him credit for playing the seduction card. Lauren is a sucker for chiseled abs. I mean, what woman can resist a swimmer’s body?” I laugh, but Ben doesn’t join in. “Now don’t be mad. I’m impressed with the gig your brother has going here. She gets him to lie about Cassidy and satisfy her sexual cravings. He preserves your good name and gets her to support him until you hit the big time. Masterfully played. But it can’t feel good to have all of your brother’s expectations heaped onto your shoulders like that. Talk about a ball and chain. I feel sorry for you, my man.”

“I’m not your man,” he remarks snidely.

“I know. You’re still in love with Ryan, even though you can’t have him.” I reach for Ben, but he pushes my hand away. “I’m glad we had some fun together though.”

“What do you want?” He purses his lips like he’d like nothing better than to hit me.

“Ah, ever the pragmatist. I like that about you,” I say, lightly touching my finger to the tip of his nose.

“Get on with it,” he mutters.

“I want my screenplay, and you’re going to get Lauren to give it back.” I watch Ben’s expression carefully, but he’s not giving anything away.

“And what if I can’t get her to do that?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“Oh, I think you will,” I reply like I have all the faith in the world in his persuasive abilities.

“Really?” He pauses, feeling me out. “How do you figure that?”

“Because you still have Ryan Price wrapped around your little finger, whether he wants to admit it or not. He has to feel guilty about the way things ended. I’m sure he’d love to make it up to you. You tell him about how Lauren’s using your brother to manipulate Eric, and he forces her hand. She can’t have Eric find out about her arrangement with your brother and she can’t expose you without hurting Ryan. It’s perfect. Then once the two of you graduate and he gets out from under his father’s thumb, you could have a fresh start together.” I entice him with the prospect, but he’s not biting.

“And what if I don’t want to be with him anymore?” He stares me down, and I smile to hide my surprise.

“Oh, Ben. It was his name you called out last night in this very truck. You can’t fool me. You’re still in love with him.” I play the last move I have, hoping it’ll be enough.

“Of course I still love him, but it doesn’t mean I want to be with him. Not after what he did to Ivy last summer.” This time, he’s the one backing me into a corner.

“You know about that, huh?” I ask, knowing full well I’m venturing into uncharted territory.

“Yeah, and I told her she should tell the cops.” Of course, it’s the right thing to do, but his logic is eluding me.

“And why would you do that? I know Ryan must’ve gotten scared and broke it off, but do you really want your beloved sucking cock behind bars?” I honestly have no idea where Ben is going with this. At this point, I’m just along for the ride.

“Because it’s not about me, asshole. He’s going to hurt some poor, innocent girl, and I can’t stand by and let it happen. I’d report him myself if I could. I love him, but he needs help.” Ben starts to tear up, and I realize there’s more to this story than I imagined.

“What do you mean?” I ask, encouraging him to go on.

“His father created such a sense of self-loathing in him. He doesn’t know how to express love, only pain. I tried to get him to open up to me, but he could never be tender or gentle. He was always cruel, taking whatever he wanted.” He looks at me with such anguish that I want to turn away, but I can’t. “The things he did to me, Will.” He sobs, shaking his head. “But I thought I could change him, get him to see what a normal, loving relationship was like. And he was starting to come around but then his father caught us. Now I know there’s no saving him, especially after what he tried to do to Ivy.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone what he was doing to you?”

“Will, you’re the first gay man I’ve met besides Ryan. Who was I going to talk to about it?” He raises his hands in front of him, imploring me to answer him.

“Are you afraid of Ryan?” I have to get some kind of handle on Ben’s true feelings.

“No, I’m afraid of falling under his spell again,” he moans, leaning his head against the window.

“So you were the one who broke it off?” I inquire, studying his profile.

“I had to. I couldn’t take it anymore. But I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for walking away from him. I’m afraid that’s why he’s acting out like this. He’s confused. He’s hurt. He’s all alone.” Ben sniffles, trying to hold it together.

“Then why don’t you help him?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.

He looks over at me dejectedly. “How?”

“By once and for all standing up to his family,” I say in an attempt to empower him. “Reach out to Ryan. Tell him you’ll stand with him every step of the way—if he helps you deal with Lauren.”

“I can’t, Will. You’re asking too much of me. I’ll be leaving for college soon. I have other things I need to focus on.” Ben is pulling back. I’m losing him.

“So you’re just going to walk away and leave Ryan, knowing how he is. That doesn’t sound like something a man would do, and you want to go off and lead a team? I think it’s time you grew a pair.” I can’t help getting tough with him. Athletes respond to discipline, right?

“Why can’t I just talk to Lauren about his violent tendencies and leave Ryan out of it? I know much she cares about him. He didn’t handle his parents’ divorce well, but he somehow bonded with her. She’ll fight to the death to protect him, but maybe she needs to see it’s not in his best interest if she keeps shielding him from himself.” Ben’s trying to rationalize everything in his head, but working with Lauren is a terrible idea. She can’t be trusted. She’s a cover-up artist, not a therapist.

“Ben, you can’t reason with Lauren when it comes to dealing with Ryan. She’s too unpredictable. She’ll only negotiate with someone who has something on her. Ryan might be a mess, but she’ll never admit it. His reputation in the community is more important to her than getting him the help he needs.” I plead my case, hoping Ben won’t let me down. “You have to either get Ryan to go after his stepsister or scare Lauren into thinking that you’re going to reveal the truth about Ryan’s sexuality to the world. I’m afraid those are our only options.”

“I’ll think about it, all right?” Ben shifts into drive, turning the truck back onto the road. Apparently he’s had enough of our conversation.

“I’ll need an answer soon. The sooner—either you or Ryan approach Lauren—the better.” I’m firm, probably firmer than I should be. But Ivy’s life may hang in the balance.

If Lauren insists on Ivy’s involvement with the script going forward, it may very well kill her. And I’m not going to stand by and let that happen. Lauren’s a heartless bitch who left Ivy bleeding in my arms—not once, but twice. She needs to be taken down. Eric’s too busy watching over Ivy and running his business. So it’s up to me to do everything in my power to remove the target the Prices have on Ivy’s back—even if I have to get my hands dirty to do it.

Chapter Nineteen

Ivy

“Are you ready?” Dr. P. asks, holding the ultrasound wand between my legs.

“Yes,” I respond shakily as Eric grips my hand even tighter.

I’ve been waiting for this all week, but now that it’s here, I’m dreading what Dr. Patel is going to find. I was hoping that he’d squirt some gel onto my belly and examine the baby though my stomach, but he wanted to get a more detailed look with the transvaginal model. I didn’t enjoy it the first time around, but I’m just going to have to grit my teeth and get through it somehow. Discomfort be damned.

“Breathe for me, Ivy. Relax,” Dr. P. says, his eyes fixed on the monitor. “That’s it.”

“Are you okay?” Eric whispers down to me.

Not really, but I don’t want to spook him.

“Uh huh,” I respond, forcing a smile.

Dr. Patel wheels his chair over to the screen, turning up the volume. Soon, a gentle thud, thud, thud starts filling the room. “Bingo! There it is!” he exclaims.

“Is that—?” Eric starts, leaning forward.

“Your baby’s heartbeat? It sure is.” Dr. P. grins up proudly at us.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eric asks, a look of sheer wonder on his face.

“It’s too early to tell,” Dr. P. chuckles. “But it’s a nice, steady beat. Your baby sounds healthy and strong.”

“Oh, thank God,” I murmur as Eric bends over to kiss my forehead.

“That’s our baby, Ivy,” Eric says, pointing at the screen. “Can you believe it?”

It’s a special moment, and I feel myself getting emotional. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but I can’t help it. We almost lost this baby twice already. But Dr. P. just said it’s healthy and strong. I couldn’t be more relieved.

“So everything looks fine, Doc?” I ask as he zooms in on a particular area.

He’s quiet as he studies the image, repositioning the wand at a different angle.

“What is it, Dr. P.?” Eric implores, observing his every move.

“Jeanette, can you ask Dr. Kramer to come in here, please?” Dr. P. requests of the nurse assisting him.

She quickly leaves the room and returns almost instantly with another doctor.

Eric starts fidgeting beside me as I hold my breath.

“What’s up, Amir?” he asks, striding into the room.

“Can you take a look at this for me, Peter?” Dr. P. inquires, still not looking at either one of us.

Dr. Kramer studies the image carefully. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Amir.”

“I know. That’s why I called you in here,” Dr. P. continues. “I wanted to make sure.”

“Yes, I read through your notes last night after our consultation. Your initial diagnosis appears to be on target, but it’s such a unique case.” Dr. Kramer stares at the image, mystified.

“So it’s a placental abruption?” I don’t bother with any formalities instead I jump right into their conversation.

“Thank you, Peter.” Dr. P. says as the other doctor gives me a weak smile before leaving the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Eric demands, dropping my hand as he approaches the doctor.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wanted my colleague to confirm my suspicions. I don’t like to treat these kinds of cases lightly.” He pauses, removing the wand from inside of me. “Unfortunately, an ultrasound usually can’t confirm a placental abruption because most of the time they’re too small. But it appears as if, somehow, a portion of your placenta has already detached, but not all the way. See this line here? It’s hanging, suspended in the amniotic fluid. The initial separation is what caused the bleeding the first time. As the baby grows and begins to move, the placenta doesn’t remain stationary. I believe the second time it almost ruptured but didn’t. It’s still attached, but only by a thread. If it breaks off completely, it will put you and the baby at great risk.”

“But will it break off?” I grab the sides of the exam table, willing my hands to remain steady.

“In all likelihood, yes. There is a slight possibility that the placenta will heal itself and eventually be able to slough off that portion like a scab, or it might remain attached throughout the pregnancy, but the chances of either of those scenarios aren’t very good.” His eyes are sad when they meet mine, like he’s failed me somehow.

“What course of action do you recommend?” Eric asks, not wasting any time.

“We could take the overly cautious route and abort the pregnancy before the baby gets any bigger. But I’m hesitant to do that, and I’ll tell you why.” Dr. P. scoots his chair closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. It’s not in distress. Ivy’s bleeding has stopped. She made it through the week. Those are all encouraging signs not to give up just yet.”

“But if that flap rips off, that’s it?” Eric questions.

“That I can’t tell you,” Dr. P. responds. “And that’s the frustrating part. If the baby continues to grow at a normal rate, then it means that the placenta is providing it with the nutrients it needs. There’s no hole, so to speak. But with growth comes increased movement as the available space in the womb gets more and more restricted. The baby could inadvertently rip off the flap and severely damage the placenta. If we make it to twenty-two weeks, I can do an emergency C-section, but if we don’t and it ruptures, we could be endangering both of their lives. It’s a tough call.”

“What causes something like this to happen?” I inquire, staring mournfully at the monitor.

“There are a variety of factors—smoking, drinking, drug use by the mother. Physical trauma, high blood pressure, and so forth,” Dr. P. rattles off.

“What about stress?” Eric questions.

“As the sole reason? No, but it doesn’t help matters,” Dr. P. admits, removing the latex gloves from his hands.

Eric sighs in relief, but he’s letting me off the hook too easily. He’s forgetting about the night I went out drinking with Sophie. The night I called him drunk, ranting about Cassidy’s shirt. It was not even twenty-four hours after we’d had sex, the critical time in a woman’s body right after conception. There’s no way that Dr. P. can tell me for sure, but this could very well be my fault, not Lauren’s.

“I wouldn’t advise making any rash decisions. Mother and child are stable for now. Think it over and get back to me. Either way, I’m here for you. I’ve handled many high-risk pregnancies before. Nothing quite like this, but I assure you I’ll keep an eye on things,” Dr. P. says, helping me lift my legs out of the stirrups. “The minute you see any bleeding, you call me. The minute you feel any pain, you call me. Do not leave the area for the remainder of the pregnancy. Stay close to home. I know the particulars of your case, and I’m usually here or at the hospital. I’d hate for you to end up in an out-of-town emergency room wasting valuable time bringing them up to speed.”

“Understood, Dr. P. Do I still need to stay in bed?” I try to remain upbeat as the frown on Eric’s face deepens.

“The less movement, the better. I’m going to have the receptionist set you up with a schedule of weekly appointments. Things can change quickly and I want to monitor you closely. If that’s what you decide to do,” Dr. P. remarks, writing on my chart before handing it to the nurse.

“And what if we don’t?” Eric asks, confirming my worst fear.

“Then I would recommend moving ahead with the termination as soon as possible. The larger the fetus grows, the more difficult it is to remove.” Dr. P. isn’t taking sides, but I can tell abortions are a part of the job he doesn’t enjoy.

“Thank you, Dr. P. We’ll be in touch.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it warmly before moving on to Eric.

“Remember, if you need me, call me,” Dr. P. admonishes before leaving the room.

“You can get dressed now,” the nurse says before following him out the door to give us some privacy.

“Can you hand me my top?” I ask Eric, not wanting to start an argument until we get out of here.

Eric immediately starts in on me. “Ivy, I think we should schedule that procedure before we leave.”

“Eric, didn’t you hear the man? He said to take some time and think it over. We don’t have to jump to any rash decisions,” I respond, sticking my head through the collar before hopping down off the exam table.

“I’m not playing Russian roulette with your life,” he insists, bending down to help me, but I swat him away.

“You’re not,” I reply, getting angry. “Everything’s fine. For now, the baby’s fine.”

“Yeah, for now,” he huffs.

“We’re not having this discussion here, okay?” I slip a foot into one of my Ugg boots, holding on to his arm as I pull it on.

“But we are having it.” He’s determined to get the last word, so I let him. He may think he’s won the battle, but no way in hell is he winning the war. He can badger me all he wants. Unless the placenta ruptures, I’m going to hold on to this baby for as long as I possibly can. I owe it to the kid after starting it off on such a bad note. I don’t think I’ll drink alcohol again for the rest of my life, as long as this baby survives.

“Please don’t turn this into a day I’d rather forget.” I reach for his hand, placing it between mine. “Eric, we just saw our baby for the first time and heard its heartbeat. It was such a magical moment. Nothing should ruin that for us.”

He gazes deeply into my eyes before raising his head to look out the window. It’s like he’s trying to decide what to do. He’s conflicted, but I know what I want, and I’m not going to deviate from it. He’s just going to have to trust me.

“Let’s go home, okay?” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. He shaved this morning and his skin is soft. I let my lips linger, thinking back to the day I shaved him. I’d readily give him anything, but not this.

We created this baby together, and we’re going to see it through to the end—whenever that may be.

Chapter Twenty

Eric

I was planning on driving Ivy out to the Hideaway Cliffs after her doctor’s appointment, but Dr. P. axed that idea.

I thought it’d be the perfect way to celebrate hearing our baby's heartbeat for the first time. I was hoping for the best, but the news we received isn’t good. Ivy could die at any time. And I’m not about to sit back on my heels and wait for that to happen. I need to take action. Sometimes even the best intentions require a change in plan.

My mom advised me to take my time and make my proposal to Ivy special. But that was before. Things are different now. We don’t know how much time we have left together. It could be decades. It could be days.

I have my grandmother’s ring in my pocket. I almost whipped it out in the exam room but thought better of it. I’ve been carrying it around with me since I boarded the plane to L.A. I’ve been waiting for just the right moment, but it just hasn’t presented itself. I’m so ready to pull the trigger and make her my wife that I almost didn’t care that we were surrounded by posters depicting the proper way to conduct a breast self-exam.

I glance over at Ivy, and she’s staring absently through the truck window at the snow flurries filling the air. Her hands are on her belly. I noticed she’s been doing this more and more, as if to protect the life growing inside her that’s threatening to extinguish her own.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, and she looks over at me, a smile forming in the corners of her mouth.

“Actually, I’m starving,” she proclaims, causing me to chuckle.

“I’m glad to see that you’re getting your appetite back.” I exit the parking lot and merge into traffic. “Why don’t we get some McDonald’s and enjoy the first snowfall together?”

“You had me at McDonald’s,” she jokes.

It’s just down the block, so it’s not long before we’re at the drive-thru. I don’t even have to ask what she wants. I already know. Not a big fan of the cafeteria meal plan, she told me this place was her addiction in college. She grew up on Happy Meals since her mother was usually too lazy or too loaded to cook. I learned early on in our relationship that fast food is a source of comfort for her. I don’t know how she’s not three hundred pounds after eating so much of it, but I’m willing to grant her this one indulgence. Even if she can’t cook worth a damn, she sure knows how to feed my hunger in ways that are a lot more satisfying.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Would you like to try our new chocolate chip frappé today?” the automated voice regurgitates through the speaker. I give Ivy a tortured look and she starts to laugh. We never want what they want us to try.

“No thanks,” I reply as the snow begins to accumulate on the side-view mirror.

A fully human voice crackles on the other end. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like two number one Extra Value Meals,” I reply, already anticipating the next question.

“What size?”

“Medium.”

“And what would you like to drink?”

“Two chocolate shakes.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yep.”

“Your total is $12.06. First window, please.”

I reach into my back pocket for my wallet before turning the corner. I only have a few crumpled ones. I’ll have to use my credit card. I hate to charge little things like this because they tend to add up in hurry, but I used all my cash for the $100 co-pay on Ivy’s office visit. In my head, I rapidly do the math. If the baby makes it to twenty-two weeks, that’s an additional $1,400 I’m going to have to come up with for the weekly doctor visits. Thank God she finally reached the deductible on her insurance plan and I didn’t have to pay for today’s ultrasound. The fall attractions at the garden center were a success, but I still have to make payments on the loan, plus utilities, groceries, gas, and so on. Things are going to be tough until spring. We’ll just have to hold on and tighten our belts. It sucks having to live on such a strict budget, but there’s no other way with all these added medical bills. I try to ignore the dollar signs racking up in my head as I hand over my credit card to pay for the food.

Ivy’s taking it all in, but she’s not saying anything. She knows money’s tight. She hates being reminded that she can’t contribute, but I don’t mind providing for her. I just wish I had more to offer except a mountain of debt and a cabin without central heat. She’s going to be spending a lot of time inside. I’ll have to look into getting some space heaters for the bedroom. The fireplace downstairs isn’t going to cut it.

I hand Ivy the two shakes to keep her occupied as I slide something into the bottom of the bag while it’s on my lap. She’s sticking the straws through the lids as I pull into the first available parking spot and keep the engine running. It’s too cold not to. I reach for my drink and place it between my legs as she starts opening the bag, propping the containers of fries on the dash. The only thing to look at is the used car dealership across the street, so I don’t care if the windshield gets covered with snow. It’s kind of depressing actually.

I wait as she passes me my Big Mac and rummages through the bag for her own. Until she gasps, drawing out a tiny black box. “Eric, what is this?”

It’s definitely not how I envisioned it happening, but if I can’t drive her out to the Hideaway Cliffs then I’m not about to wait a second longer.

“Open it,” I urge as I watch a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across her face—shock, relief, fear, joy, and everything in between.

She snaps back the lid, and my grandmother’s ring sparkles up at her.

“Oh, Eric,” she whispers, breathless.

Reaching for her mittened hand, I slowly pull it off. Bringing her hand to my lips, I kiss it, holding it between my own. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She hesitates, lowering her eyes, and I know I really botched this. I didn’t plan a big, flowery speech. I took her to the least romantic spot on earth. I didn’t tell her the story behind the ring. I just rushed it, and now I can’t take the moment back. This is going to be how I proposed to Ivy—in my junky old truck, freezing our asses off, in a McDonald’s parking lot. Real classy move, Young. Of course she’s going to hesitate. Who wouldn’t?

“Eric, you know I’d like that more than anything in the world…” She pauses.

“But?” I provide the word she doesn’t say.

“But I think we have a lot we need to discuss before I can say yes.” She places the ring next to our fries, not even taking it out of the box.

“This isn’t about the baby,” I sigh.

“It sure as hell is about the baby,” she corrects me, already starting to get defensive. “Eric, you know how I want us to always be honest with each other, so I’m just going to lay it all out on the table. If you can’t accept the fact that I’m having this baby—” She halts, blinking back tears as my heart drops. “Then I don’t think I can marry you.”

“Ivy, you can’t be serious.” I turn in my seat to face her, but the damn milkshake gets in the way. “I love you, and I’m not going to have you risk your life over something that can be fixed.”

“You make it sound like it’s so easy, but it’s not!” she fires back.

“Ivy, don’t make this difficult when it doesn’t have to be.” I don’t understand why she’s being so ridiculously stubborn and taking such an unnecessary risk. Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to me by going through with this pregnancy? “We’re young. We can try again. This isn’t the only shot we’ll have at being parents. It just didn’t work out this time. The circumstances are beyond our control. You have to see that I only want what’s best for you. I’m not trying to be the big bad guy who goes around forcing the woman he loves to terminate a pregnancy, but it has to be done. Didn’t you hear what Dr. P. said? The baby is going to continue to grow, and it’s only a matter of time before that flap rips off and it’s all over.”

“Yeah, I heard everything Dr. P. said, not just what I selectively chose to hear,” she huffs, shoving the bag onto the floor by her feet. “He’s never seen anything like this before. He doesn’t know for sure what’s going to happen. He’s willing to give it a chance even if you’re not.”

“I’m not putting your life on the line. I refuse to do it.” I press my shoulders against the door, wishing we weren’t in such a confined space. “It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it? How can you say that about your own child?” She shakes her head, gazing at me with a grief-stricken expression.

“You come first,” I respond, feeling like I just crossed some invisible line.

“So you’re making me choose between you and the baby?” she asks incredulously. “We shouldn’t be on two different sides on this. We should be on the same team, or else how are we ever going to be a family?”

My eyes widen, realizing the full impact of what she is saying.

“I can’t marry someone who is going to make me divide my heart like that. I just can’t, Eric. I can’t love you more than the baby and vice versa. I don’t know how to love that way.” She reaches for the ring box, handing it back to me. “If you want me to love you more than our child—or any of the children we may have someday—I can’t do it. Not after knowing what it’s like to be a mother, no matter how fleeting it may be.”

Her words are cutting me deep, right to the bone. I don’t even know what to say to that. It’s not like she’s twisting my words. She is the first priority in my life. Everything else comes second. That’s not going to change.

“I can’t believe you’re turning me down.” I take the ring and shove it back into my pocket. Aggravated, I grab the bag and start tossing the food back inside. Flicking the wipers, I scan the parking lot before getting out of the truck.

“What are you doing?” Ivy calls out, but I don’t respond. I have to get away from her for a minute. I angrily stomp toward a garbage can, hurling our uneaten meal through the opening. The milkshakes splatter against the rim, staining the cuffs of my jacket, but I don’t even care. Everything’s ruined now anyway.

I glance back over my shoulder and see Ivy sitting there, staring at me through the half-open door of the truck. The wind is whipping the snow across my trail of footprints. I pick up my collar, at odds over what to do. I don’t want to be around Ivy right now, but I have to take her home. I foolishly trashed our lunch, and there’s nothing left in our fridge to eat. I’m going to have to stop for some groceries.

I clamber back in and act like nothing happened. I can feel her eyes on me as I throw the truck into reverse and back onto the road. We sit in silence as I make a right and turn into the nearby shopping complex. I roam the lot, but there’s nowhere to park. As usual, everyone is running for milk and eggs the minute the first snowflake hits the ground. I’m going to be in for quite a hike.

We still haven’t said anything to each other. She’s obviously furious, and I’m upset. Neither of us wants to give way, since we both think we’ve been wronged. She rejected my marriage proposal, and I’m making her choose between me and the baby. We have a lot of issues we need to resolve, but not now, not here.

“I’ll be right back,” I say in an attempt to break the ice. I’d like nothing more than to return to the daily grind and forget about things like engagement rings and transvaginal ultrasounds. I just want us to be normal and forget this day ever happened. “Do you need anything?” I ask, because she always does. Usually it’s something like half a pound of roasted turkey from the deli or a loaf of the rye bread she likes from the bakery. But she just shakes her head, gazing forlornly out the window at the falling snow.

I better make this quick. I jog through the automatic door, dragging a shopping cart along with me. The store is crowded and it takes me longer to get through the aisles than I anticipated. The lines at the check-out are insane, but I bide my time. I plan on making it up to her as I load the ingredients for the pasta dish she’s been craving onto the conveyor belt. I once again reach for my credit card and swipe it through the machine before hightailing it out of there.

As I get closer to the truck, I notice that the engine’s no longer running. Now why would Ivy turn off the heat? It’s freezing out here as I try to navigate the cart through the drifting snow. The back window is covered as I start tossing the bags into the cab. Too bad I left the scraper in the glove compartment. Using my sleeve, I wipe away some of the snow to let Ivy know that I’m back, but she’s not in the truck.

Shit! Where did she go?

The door is unlocked and my keys are dangling in the ignition. I look around for a note, but there isn’t one. Maybe she had to use the restroom or something. Should I wait here until she gets back and warm up the truck? Or should I start searching all of the shops in the plaza? I glance frantically around unsure of what to do and worried that she’s wandering around in this storm as the wind shakes the frame of the truck.

I fumble for my phone with my semi-frozen fingers to call her cell, but relief washes through me when I see that I have a text from Ivy.

I need some time to myself for a while to think things through. I’m fine. I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. If you change your mind about what you said, I’ll see you at next week’s doctor’s appointment. I’ll text you the date and time. I love you, Eric. I just wish you could learn to love this baby as much as I do.

Damn it! Where can she possibly be? I have to find her. She’s in no condition to be walking the streets in this kind of weather, although I know she’s foolish enough to try. I start having flashbacks of her crawling up the embankment behind the pizzeria and walking barefoot down my dirt road. With Ivy, who knows what she’d do?

For a moment, I’m undecided. Should I see if she called my dad for help? But he wouldn’t go behind my back like that. Would she have reached out to Will? But he doesn’t have a car. Would she have contacted Ben? But she can’t stand the guy and I doubt she even has his number.

There’s that friend of hers from school. What’s her name? Sophia? Sophie? But when the semester started, Ivy sort of lost touch with her. And there’s really nobody else Ivy knows in town, at least not well enough that they’d take her in for an extended period of time. There’s only one hotel near the college, but she doesn’t have the money for that. There’s nowhere else she can go.

I have to get home and regroup. Try to figure this out with everyone’s help. We can split up and cover more ground. She has to be around here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave the area, no matter how much she hates my guts right now. She wouldn’t disobey Dr. P.’s orders.

Then my phone rings, displaying a familiar number I usually take great pains to avoid, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Chapter Twenty-One

Lauren

The holiday season was supposed to lift the Gazette out of the red and into the black. But it seems like these cheapskate mom-and-pop stores are actually cutting their advertising budgets instead of increasing them. If I hear one more person tell me to check back with them after New Year’s, I’m going to scream. Don’t they know that the fourth quarter is when people do most of their spending? Forget about next year. There won’t be a next year.

I slam the phone back onto its cradle and stare stonily at the snow rattling the windowpane. I have to get out of this godforsaken town and join my uncle in L.A. Enough is enough. Who am I kidding? Eric’s little bun in the oven is safe and warm inside Ivy’s big ol’ belly. She nearly miscarried twice in my presence, but that speck of a tadpole is still hanging on. I haven’t been pestering her about returning to work on the script because Eric would probably have me brought up on involuntary manslaughter charges for trying to kill a fetus. He looked insane when he came after me in his driveway. Who knows what he’s capable of at this point?

But it’s already been a week since our last showdown. I should really start putting the pressure back on. I told Ivy I wanted this screenplay completed before the end of the year, and so far she has nothing to show me. Will better get his ass in gear too. I’m not fooling around about this. I’m taking this project seriously, and so should they. I’ve already put some feelers out. The interest is definitely there and I intend to capitalize on it.

I drain the last of the herbal tea out of my mug and slide it to the edge of the desk with the others. That new intern really has to do a better job of clearing them off and placing them in the dishwasher. She’s definitely not as good as Ivy was in that department. Every morning I’d come in to a neat and organized desk after walking away from a clusterfuck the night before. I never had to clean up after myself, so why start now? That’s what maids—or college bimbos—are for.

I still have Eric’s number on speed dial. All I’d have to do is push one little button and I’ll hear his voice. He probably won’t put Ivy on the phone, but it’s worth a try. I really don’t have anything to lose if he hangs up on me. Besides, I’m curious to know how he’s dealing with the whole Cassidy bombshell. Was it convincing enough to sew a seed of doubt in his mind? I surely hope so.

My fingernail is hovering over the button, when my intercom buzzes. Ugh, what now?

“Yes?” I say briskly.

“Ms. Price, you have a call on line one.”

I’m going to strangle this new intern. No wonder I can’t even bother to remember her name.

“Who is it?” I snap.

“Ivy Thompson,” she replies hurriedly. “I’m sorry, Miss Price. I know you already spoke to me about—”

But I don’t even listen, cutting her off by punching line one. Excuses, excuses—always excuses. But I got the catch I was looking for—albeit unexpectedly—and now I intend to reel it in.

“Ivy, dear. How are you?” The false sincerity is literally dripping off my tongue.

“Lauren, let me cut to the chase and save us both a lot of trouble.” Her aggressiveness assaults my ear. It’s so not like her. “I’m ready to write the script you want, but you’re going to have to do something for me in return.”

“Ivy, you’re in no position to—” I start in on her.

“Let me finish,” she interrupts, and I see red. “I’ll write whatever you tell me to about Cassidy, but I’m going to need a place to stay and a car and some money for living expenses. And I need someone to pick me up outside the Valu-Mart in the next fifteen minutes or the deal’s off.”

“Running away, are we?” I mock her.

“It’s none of your concern. Do you want me to write it or not?” She sounds nervous. “I don’t have time to play games with you. It has to happen now.”

“Hold on,” I say, placing her on hold before she can respond.

Thinking quickly, I hit another button, strumming my fingers on the desktop.

“Ryan, where are you?” I snarl into the receiver as soon as he picks up.

“They’re letting us out of school early because of the snow. I just got in my Jeep. Why?” he responds, and I can tell he’s not in the greatest of moods.

“I have an errand I need you to run. It’s important and it has to be done now,” I command, waiting for the inevitable blowback.

“Lauren, I really don’t feel like driving all over town in this shit,” he complains.

“I think you will when you find out who’s waiting for you,” I reply, tempting him.

He breathes heavily on the other end. “Who?”

“It’s Ivy. She needs you to pick her up in the parking lot of the Valu-Mart, but she says you have to hurry. She has to be out of there within the next ten minutes or so. Can you do it?” I ask, watching the clock.

“And where am I supposed to take her?” he asks, already revving his engine.

“I don’t know. I’ll call you back when I figure it out. Just go get her,” I implore.

“I’m on it,” he says, hanging up before I can say goodbye.

I lean forward in my chair and hit the hold button.

“Ivy, are you still there?” I ask, hoping I didn’t dilly-dally too long with Ryan.

“Yes,” she says anxiously. “So do we have a deal?”

“We do, and I’m going to hold you to it. You’re not bailing out of this. I don’t care if Eric comes begging and crawling on his knees. I’m going to have my lawyer draw up the necessary documents and you will agree in writing that you will complete this project the way I want it done. Are we clear on that?” I press the phone against my chin.

“We’re clear,” she responds, her voice clipped.

“Good, because you’re not wiggling your way out of this,” I warn, relishing this stroke of luck. “You can’t walk away from me this time. I own your ass.”

I hear her gulp, but she doesn’t fight it. “I’ll sign whatever you need. You have my word.”

“Someone’s on their way to get you, so just sit tight. It won’t be long. Stay on the line until they get there,” I order, remembering how good it feels to boss her around.

“How will I know who they are?” she asks, confused.

“Oh, you’ll know.” I smile, wishing I could be there to witness the look on her face when she sees who it is.

“Where are you taking me?” There is a slight tremor in her voice.

“I haven’t decided yet.” It’s going to be fun having this much power over her.

“I can’t leave the area, Lauren. I have to make my weekly doctor’s appointment. That’s non-negotiable.” Already she’s throwing a monkey wrench in my plans. She’s going to have to learn how to obey.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, stringing her along.

“That’s not acceptable. You either agree or—” She stops abruptly. She’s getting all worked up over nothing. I wasn’t planning on transporting her out of town. I’m just not sure where I’m going to put her yet.

“All right, fine. I agree,” I groan. When she doesn’t say anything, I start to get annoyed. “What is it?”

“You sent Ryan?” she asks, her voice trembling.

Not this drama again. This girl needs to get a hold of herself. She claims Ryan attacked her the night of the gala, but I don’t buy it. Ryan told me what really happened when he came back to the theater, beaten to a pulp thanks to Eric. He related how she’d led him on for years and then tried to seduce him on the way to the film festival. I was so mad I could barely see straight. Ryan said that Ivy told Eric that he’d tried to rape her, and Eric went ballistic. I was livid that Ivy’s vicious lie was enough to convince Eric to defend her. I knew Ryan was just coming off of a bad break-up and that it was in no way connected to his supposed feelings for Ivy. I did spot a pair of women’s panties in the inside pocket of his jacket when I was cleaning him up, but I decided to ignore them, thinking it was probably another one of his fetishes that I’d rather not know about. If he wants to wear girly underwear, that’s his business.

I thought Ivy might provide a good smokescreen for him while she was at the Gazette, but no such luck. At least not once she got involved with Eric. I tried to dangle Ryan in front of her like a piece of forbidden fruit, but she didn’t bite. She couldn’t even play the role of Ryan’s beard properly. She is so clueless sometimes. I mean, it wouldn’t have been hard. He’s a good-looking kid. He got her the internship. It was the least she could do to pay him back and show some appreciation. But no, she had to screw the two of us over and get knocked up by the only guy in town worth a second look.

But now she’s going to pay. She’s going to earn her keep—and like it. So what if I sent Ryan to pick her up? She should be kissing my feet that I got someone there that fast. What does she think I am—a freaking taxicab company? She’d better wise up. I’m the one running the show from now on, not her.

“Just get in the damn Jeep, Ivy,” I reply without an ounce of pity.

“Send someone else,” she pleads, practically begging.

“There isn’t time. You’re either doing this or you’re not. I can’t stay on the phone all day waiting for you to decide. Are you in or are you out?” I sling the ultimatum at her, forcing her hand.

“I’m in,” she says as I hear a car door slam.

“Excellent.” I finally have her right where I want her. I almost can’t believe it. I never in a million years expected this twist of fate. I’m only glad I was at my desk when this golden opportunity fell into my lap. And to think I was ready to pack it up and head to L.A. Who says life doesn’t give second chances?

“Ivy, tell Ryan—” But I don’t get to finish, as the call disconnects. Ah, no bother. Ryan will take care of it from here.

Now I just have to figure out where I’m going to put her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ivy

I can’t believe I’m actually going through with this, but what choice do I have? Ryan peers at me, flicking the ashes of his cigarette out the window. Every instinct in my body is telling me to run in the opposite direction. So what am I doing? I’m walking toward him. Typical me.

But I can’t go home with Eric. Not after that crazy marriage proposal. I don’t feel comfortable sharing the same roof with him, never mind the same bed. He expected me to choose between him and the baby. Either or. Like I can’t have both. As if he’s the only one who gets to decide whether or not this baby lives or dies. He thinks he can play God. But he’s forgetting one very important thing. I get a say too.

He’s always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy, but this is taking things a little too far. I know what happened with Cassidy is distorting his perspective, but I’m not about to have him railroad me into getting an abortion just to give him some peace of mind. Who says anyone’s life is guaranteed? I could wake up tomorrow and get hit by a bus. He can’t protect me from destiny. No one can, and he’s foolish to try. Didn’t he learn anything from Cassidy’s death? He can’t control what happens to me, and if he’s not going to be with me on this, then he’s against me. There’s no other way to put it. I’m not backing down. This baby needs me. And if I have to raise it as a single mother, then so be it. At least it’ll be alive.

Tramping carefully through the snow, I stick my phone back in my purse. Hanging up on Lauren probably wasn’t the smartest move, but that was such an insensitive gesture sending Ryan. I mean, really? I know she wants to gloat and rub it in that I came crawling back to her, but I haven’t seen Ryan since the night of the gala. And I feel nauseous just looking at him. The last thing I want to do is get inside his Jeep, back to the scene of the crime.

I don’t like playing the victim, but I’m placing myself in a very perilous position. Girls around the world are no doubt screaming at me to turn around and wait for Eric. It is the more sensible option, but he really hurt me just now. I need some space. I need to give him time to come to his senses. Let him see how much he misses me and how he forced me onto this more treacherous path. Sure, I want him to feel guilty and grovel at my feet. He needs a rude awakening in order to see things clearly and understand just how much he has to lose. I’m not a piece of property. I’m practically his wife, and he has to take me seriously. We’re either going to be equals in this partnership or we’re not going to get married at all. I’m not entering into such a profound commitment unless he’s willing to meet me halfway. It doesn’t bode well if we can’t even compromise at the very beginning. How can he expect me to journey through life with him if he’s going to insist on always taking the easy way out when he’s scared?

I’m at the side of the Jeep, but I jump back when Ryan leans over the seat to unlock the door. His sudden movement reminds me too much of that night. When he forced himself on top of me. I shudder and not from the snow blowing in my face. I open the door and get it before I can change my mind. Everything about this feels wrong, but I’m out of options. Like I could really go home to the projects and live with my alcoholic mother? I don’t think so. Anything’s better than that.

“Ivy,” Ryan says curtly, hitting the gas as we drive by Eric’s truck. I feel like I’m going to cry as I watch it slip out of view and get swallowed by the storm.

“Ryan,” I mutter just as dispassionately. “Where are we going?”

“I’m waiting to find out.” He doesn’t put his cigarette out and a nasty draft is coming in through his window. Already he has two strikes against him. He really knows how to make a pregnant woman feel comfortable. But when has he ever put someone else’s needs ahead of his own?

“So we’re just going to drive around in a snowstorm? That’s smart. This piece of junk can barely hold the road on a summer day. We’re probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” I’m in a foul mood and I don’t care if it shows. I’m not going out of my way to be pleasant to him. He doesn’t deserve it.

“You didn’t seem to care what I drove before.” He curses, swerving to avoid a runaway shopping cart from plowing into us.

“I have a baby to think about now. And if I recall, you’re not exactly the safest driver in the world,” I retort.

I think I’ve been with him through two fender benders and five speeding tickets, but he’s still on the road. Must be nice to have Daddy pay for every mistake. His car insurance rate must be through the roof. Just wait until he gets picked up for driving under the influence. It’s only a matter of time. I’d love to see how his father is going to get him out of that, being underage and all.

“Well that lasted long,” he says, blowing a puff of smoke in my face.

“What did?” I cough, waving my hand to clear the air.

“Your happily ever after,” he sneers. “What, did your farmer prince turn into a steaming turd?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ry,” I lash out at him. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so don’t even go there.”

“Wow, you’re right back where you started,” he drones on. “But now you’re knocked up and homeless. I’ve known you almost all my life, and I never thought you’d turn into your mother.”

“I’m nothing like my mother!” I shout back.

“Oh yeah? You dropped out college with a year to go. You have no job, no money. Sure, you’re not a total alcoholic, not yet. But your prospects aren’t very promising. You kicked your baby daddy to the curb for whatever reason and now you’re back asking my stepsister for another handout. You’re the definition of a strong, independent woman,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette butt and rolling up the window. “There, is that better?”

I ignore his small concession and remain quiet. What if I am like my mother? If I didn’t go out drinking with Sophie, maybe this baby would be okay. I feel a small twinge in my stomach. Oh no! I can’t get all excited. I was doing so well all week. No spotting. No cramping. I take some deep breaths to steady by heart rate.

“Yep, you’re still the same ungrateful bitch,” he mutters.

I bite my tongue and try to focus on good thoughts.

“Just think, if we did have sex that night, that baby could’ve been mine,” he gloats.

I grip my knees with my hands and close my eyes.

“Oh, c’mon. Are you really gonna act like that? You turned me down, remember? If anyone has a right to be pissed, it’s me,” he says, pointing his thumb at his chest.

“Your friend, Ben, doesn’t seem to think so.” I steel myself against the seat as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

He hits the brakes involuntarily and we skid on a patch of ice. Luckily, there’s no one in front of us. But it didn’t take much to prove that my assumption is right on target.

“What the fuck does he have to do with anything?” he leers at me.

“Quite a lot, I’d say.” I strive to sound disinterested, even though I know I’m playing with fire.

“Ben is a fucking pussy. That’s what he is. And anyone associated with him is a fucking loser.” He spews his venomous insults like he’s shooting a machine gun, one right after the other.

“Hmm, looks like I hit a nerve,” I chuckle, bracing myself against the door handle. I’m on hazardous ground, and there’s no telling how he’s going to react.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You don’t know shit about me and Ben!” he rages on.

“So there is a ‘you and Ben’? Interesting.” This is almost fun.

He drives the Jeep over a snow bank and against a curb. “Not another word. Do you hear me?” His voice is so low. It scares me. He’s leaning over me again and I don’t like it. I’m just about to get out of the Jeep when his phone rings.

“Yeah?” he growls, answering it.

I sit up in my seat as he draws back, straining to hear the other side of the conversation. That was close, but if we have to stay in this Jeep much longer, I don’t think he’s going to be able to control his temper. I know how he is.

“You want me to take her where?” he asks, wrinkling his brow.

Oh great, this sounds promising.

“Lauren, are you sure?” he questions her, shaking his head.

What evil plan has the wicked witch cooked up now?

“All right, but I think you’re crazy,” he needles her. “Yes, she can hear me. So what?”

So Lauren doesn’t like me seeing the discord in their ranks. Why am I not surprised?

“You owe me big time for this because I don’t want to go anywhere near that place,” he seethes, his eyes narrowing.

Oh God, where is he taking me?

“Fine, I’ll call you when it’s done,” he scowls. “Bye.”

The tires squeal as they turn helplessly against the snow, striving for any type of traction. That’s it. If he has to get out and push, I’m stealing his Jeep and leaving him here. It’d serve him right.

But somehow he gets it moving again and heads out into the countryside. I glance worriedly as the familiar landmarks start to get fewer and fewer and we enter into a territory I’ve never been before. The Jeep is chugging hard through the snow, since these back roads aren’t cindered or plowed. The only thing saving us is the four-wheel drive. Despite our unknown destination, I cross my fingers, hoping we make it because we’re miles away from any kind of assistance out here.

Soon, a clapboard house comes into view. It’s small but in good repair. It’s old, but it has a cozy feel to it, like it’s been lived in for generations. It’s definitely giving off a homey vibe. So why is Ryan so irritated? Can the person who lives here really be that bad? Visions of the gingerbread house that ensnared Hansel and Gretel float through my mind as I swallow the lump in my throat.

The porch light is on like someone’s expecting us, and the snow has been swept off the steps. It’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but whoever it is at least is making an effort to be hospitable.

“All right, get out,” Ryan barks, gesturing toward the house.

“What you’re not coming with me?” I ask, suddenly not wanting him to leave.

“This is the end of the line for me, babe. I’m not going anywhere near that place.” He holds up his hand like he’s wardening off some type of voodoo curse.

“Well, thanks for going out of your way to reassure me of your stepsister’s wacky intentions. What the heck I am supposed to say when they open the door? Do they even know who I am and what I’m doing here?” I stall, trying to buy some time.

“It’s all taken care of,” he remarks offhandedly, but I don’t feel reassured.

“I don’t have any of my clothes or even a toothbrush with me—” I entreat him, but he’s prepared for this.

“Lauren’s got it under control. She’ll be sending over what you need, including a laptop so you can get to work. That’s why you’re here, right? To work?” His stare gives me the creeps, like I’ve sold my soul to the devil and now I’m Lauren’s slave for life.

“Awesome,” I deadpan, lowering one foot out of the Jeep and into the blistering snow.

Ryan doesn’t wish me goodbye or good luck or anything to send me on my way. So I slam the door and hustle onto the porch. I don’t even get a chance to knock as the front door opens, and I rush inside to get out of the wind.

I’m still trying to catch my breath as the roar of the storm fades into the background. There’s a fire blazing in the hearth, and two cups of cocoa are situated on a tray next to an oversized recliner. The TV is on and a cat is stretched lengthwise on top of the couch. The whole scene screams comfort and joy.

I wheel around, lowering my scarf, and find myself face to face with an absolute stud. I openly gape at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing. I was expecting an ax murderer and instead I’m gazing at an Adonis.

“You must be Ivy,” he smiles at me. “I guess we’re going to be roommates for a while. Let me take your coat so you can warm up by the fire.”

I automatically obey him without thinking twice. I hand him my wet things robotically, as if in a trance. He looks at me with compassion, and his eyes remind me of someone, but my brain is too jumbled to make the connection.

“Do I know you?” I ask, trying to place him in my mind but failing miserably.

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles.

“But you look so familiar,” I mutter, drinking him in.

“A lot of people tell me I resemble my brother, so that’s probably why,” he remarks, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“Who’s your brother?” I ask as he offers me his arm as I start to wobble a little while removing my boots.

“Steady there,” he says, his voice deep and warm. “I don’t want a pregnant lady falling under my roof.”

“You seem to know everything there is to know about me, but you still didn’t answer my question.” I glance up at him, trying not to focus on the fact that my hand is wrapped around his bicep.

“Well, being the unemployed older brother of the star quarterback isn’t something I like to brag about,” he admits, staring down at me.

“Wait a minute. Your brother is—?” I stutter, realizing the full awkwardness of the situation Lauren has placed me in.

“Ben,” he replies, gauging my reaction. “I’m Tim, the leading man of the screenplay you’re about to write. Pleased to meet you, Ivy Thompson.”

Content

Meant for Me
Take Me Now - 2
by
Faith Sullivan

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two