Where the Ivy Hides (22 page)

Reese shakes his head and speaks to them first, “Guys, come on. We’re cleaning up then we’re leaving. It’s late. And a work night.” He leans over and grabs some black garbage bags from the ground and I go about gathering bottles and cups from the table tops and counters.

“Right. Right. We’re here to help, mate. See?” Bowen starts emptying ashtrays into Reese’s garbage bags and handing them to Livvy to set back onto tables.

After I’ve thrown the last bottle in the trash, I head into my office to get my purse. And when I hear Ryker’s voice getting louder and louder, I hustle back to the garage. Just as I open the door, I hear Ryker yelling at Bowen with his finger in his face, “—Can get your shit. And that shit, away from my shit, before I bloody massacre you. Under-fuckin-stood, yeah?!”

I glance over to Reese and see Livvy pleading with him before shrugging her off and shaking his head.

I can barely make out Bowen’s words he speaks so low, “Livvy, I told you. Stop fucking with him. Come on. Mate, put me down and we’ll get.”

After Ryker shoves him down, he jumps up and grabs Livvy’s arm, but before he can leave, Reese speaks, “Ry leave it alone. Livvy’s with me. Bowen, get your fucking hand off of her. Leave.”

Bowen hesitates for a minute, but must decide to leave it alone because he walks away. Thank God.

It’s easily the most awkward fucking twenty minutes of my life, but they’re over and Ryker and I are headed back to his house less than an hour later.

After tonight, no more sleepovers for me and Ryker. I have to stay over at Rome’s until after the wedding. Which is absurd. Immensely absurd.

We have a daughter together, for Christ’s sake. The cat’s out of the bag, we’ve been living in sin, and I’m sure Mom and Dad are aware.

I can’t promise my mother-in-law to-be isn’t behind this bullshit, to be completely honest.

After I turn my bedside lamp off, I snuggle up to Ryker, laying my head on his chest and wrapping my arm around his waist. I feel his lips kiss my head, and I whisper to him in the dark, “I love you, Ryker.”

We’re almost asleep when Ryker’s phone rings. He bolts from bed, unplugs it from the charger and answers it, “Ay? This is Ryker.”

He walks from the room and I can’t make out what he’s saying, but after a few minutes he’s back with a glass of water in his hand.

“Who was it?” I ask, watching him as he drinks from his cup.

He hands it to me when he finishes, “No one.”

I take the cup from him and drink before setting it on my bedside table and scoot over to snuggle back up to him. “No one? At midnight?” I ask.

“It was just Jenny, love.” He kisses my forehead, “Let’s go to sleep, hon. It’s been a long day.”

It was just Jenny.

What the fuck did just Jenny call for, then? At midnight?

Chapter 28

Between my mother’s help, my determination to get out of my brother’s house and back into my own with Ryker, and Livvy’s shotty dependability, I have chosen my dress, the location, the colors, and the theme of mine and Ryker’s wedding to the T.

My dress has a corset bodice with yards and yards of beautiful crumpled candlelight satin and even more yards of tulle underneath. My feet will be bare and my toes will be buried in the sand of Bree Lilian MacBrady’s front yard. The colors, my mother got her way, but in different shades. The bottom line was; I was marrying my prince charming. It was happening. And it was just around the corner.

It’s the night of the reception, and I’m just about to close when Livvy comes into my office at Lucky Pipes bearing gifts. More gifts than I need or want.

She plops down five bags from Victoria’s Secret. “There’s something special for him in every one. Except the last one.” She smirks.

After I flip through the bags of lace, thongs, and garter belts, I find the bag she mentioned.

As soon as my hand feels the smooth plastic covering, I know it’s my kryptonite. I don’t need to feel around to know we’re talking about a fuck ton of coke either. It’s in the deepest, widest damn Victoria Secret’s bag I’ve ever seen.

“Livvy. No. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be anywhere near this.” I slide the bag towards her. “Thanks for the other shit, but no on the coke bag. I’m good. Truly.” I smile before going back to looking busy. When Ryker strolls into my office, I pin my eyes on hers, daring her as he speaks and kisses my cheek, “Ay, me Ivy love. You look pretty as a picture this morning. Sleep well?”

“Hardee har har. By the time we get married, I’m never going to put out again, and by that point it will just be a matter of principle buddy. The next time I text you complaining about having to hear my brother’s virginal sacrifices barely reach orgasm and snap, only to get punished and
not
learn a lesson, you will tell me what I want to hear. Your response was supposed to be come home!” I shout, jokingly. Not taking my eyes from Livvy’s. After he swats my ass and grabs a file, he heads out the side door, and immediately Livvy starts begging.

“Ives, please. It’s just for a little while. If there’s only half, Ivy, he said half— left by the time he calls, every one walks away. You don’t get opportunities like this. It’s a win-win.”

I advance towards her with the bag and shove it in her arms. “Win-win for who, exactly?” I ask.

“Bowen doesn’t die. I don’t go to jail. And you get to have a life time stash in case you ever fall. Sorry, Win-win-win,” she says, snidely.

“Get out of my face. Get out of my office. I’m not a part of this anymore, Livvy. I can’t be. I’m not strong enough. No one is. And that’s why you’re where you’re at. Go.” I tell her.

After I see her Audi’s brake lights blink, I wonder if I’ll ever see my friend again.

It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, adding Mom to my other life roles. I still paint, religiously on Saturday’s. I juggle SMI and Lucky Pipes, and I’ve managed to successfully plan a wedding, sober. Losing a friend, instead of family or Ryker, as far as I’m concerned, is collateral damage. And if Livvy can’t accept that, then so be it.

I’ve shut off the computers and grabbed my bags before heading out of the office building and making my way to the garage. I see Jenny and immediately bells start going off. When I see the lady I interviewed last week standing next to her, I cool my jets, adjust my mask, and brightly smile when I see my daughter in her daddy’s arms, “Hey, sweet pea! How was your day?” I ask. She’s dressed in a sweet light pink dress with a Peter Pan collar and white patent- leather Mary Jane’s. “You look as pretty as a princess.”

I kiss her little cheek before standing and shaking hands with Linda, the retired first grade teacher-slash-Lily’s new sitter. Then I smile like I’ve tasted something bitter at Jenny. “Linda. Jenny.” When I look back at Ryker, I ask him, “We ready, baby?”

“Ay.” He says before turning out the overhead lights in the garage. “Ladies, after you.” He hits one of the garage buttons and when we head out of the door closest to the parking lot he hits the last two and locks up the side door before meeting me and Lily at the car.

“Did the sitters leave?” he asks when he slides into the driver’s seat and I nod.

“Lily, do you like Ms. Linda? Is she nice?” I ask.

She quickly nods her head, “Oh yes! Mummy. Very nice. She curled my hair the party, even.” Lily beams and Ryker and I chuckle at her.

“It’s lovely, me Lily.” Ryker smiles at her in the review mirror.

As I look at my family, I see us like I’m looking from the outside in. And I can’t help the overwhelming feeling of happiness and appreciation. I’m so thankful my daughter had Ryker there when I wasn’t. I wish I hadn’t had been broken when she came into this world, but I was. Now I’m better and we’re a family. And none of that would be possible if we both didn’t have her daddy. I’ve always known I loved Ryker David Killian, I just never knew how much. But I do now.

The rehearsal part of the night goes by quickly and without any hiccups. My father got his rocks off on standing in for the minister from Bree’s church because he couldn’t make it here from Florida. We do a dry run, and say our vows before saying I do twice, then meet everyone at what has become our favorite little restaurant, Where the Ivy Hides.

And for the remainder of the night I keep my eyes glued to the man I love. I watch him like he usually watches me. And I caught him trying a few times, tonight, but he was also distracted with our guests. Giving me ample time to meld back into the background behind my daughter and soon to be husband, and let them be the stars of the party as I watch in complete and utter contentment.

Of course, I speak when spoken to. And am kind and cordial when needed. I flash my ring and endure the ‘oooohhhs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of the clucking hens of Seattle’s elite. It was tiring, but sweet, and I did manage to have a little fun.

At least right there until the end.

Despite my persistent pleas, Ryker somehow managed to get me out on the dance floor where he out-did himself in the Irish jig category of dancing. I’m out of breath, my feet hurt, and I’m beyond full when I sit back down from dancing. Just as the waiter tops off my water, Ryker’s cell phone dings and I look over and see that Jenny has texted him eight times.

Eight is a bit much, don’t you think?

I do.

I’m seeing red by the time Bree comes to the table and kisses me goodnight. “Sweet girl, I’m going to go on and take Lily home. Ryker said he wanted to take you home so he can spend some time with you before we leave out.” She hugs my neck. “Good night, me Ivy.”

I barely choke the words out, “Yes ma’am. Good night,” before heading towards Rome.

When I’m two feet from my brother, my eyebrows shoot up when our eyes meet and I snidely glance at the feisty Latino he has draped over his arm. And just before I open my mouth to tell him to get ready to leave because I’m fucking done with this shit town and this shit marriage idea, Ryker’s hand circles the top of my arm sending chill bumps across my skin.

“Ay, there, love. What’s gotten your feathers all fluffed up? You done gone from looking at me with hearts in your eyes to cutting me up into slits with them. What’s gotten ya all pissy, babe? Huh?”

Before I can spin around and spit the answer at him, he has me shuffled out a side door of the restaurant and I’m sputtering, “What’s got me all fluffed up? Go fuck yourself, Ryker Killian.” I shove at him, but get nowhere.

“Love.” He tries to calm me down by pacifying me.

“Tell me this, Ryker. Tell me, what the fuck Jenny the sitter has to say that’s so important it takes eight. Yes,” I growl, holding up eight fingers. “Eight fucking text messages to explain.”

He looks at me like he’s stumped. “Well, bloody hell, Ivy, I don’t know. Did ya swipe the screen and read the messages? Maybe there was an accident.” He grabs my hand before dragging me back in the restaurant while I grapple with responses and trip over my dragging feet. “Ryker. Stop fucking dragging me. Why did she call the other night? Why is she texting you tonight? Why does she act like a bitch in heat every time—Oh. Hey, Lily. Bree.” I smile towards my daughter and mother in law—to-be when I look up and see them standing by the door just inside the restaurant. After Bree’s eye brows outshine themselves in the longest running you-better-not-be-fucking-my-son-up stare-off she looks at Ryker, “Sweetie, we’re heading out. I love you.”

After they say their goodbyes, Ryker commences dragging me to the table until he reaches his phone. He slides his finger across the screen and begins reading a series of the most ignorant text messages I’ve ever had to suffer through concerning a sitter and her opinions on the newest sitter. And apparently, Miss Jenny thinks she’ll still be sitting, part-time.

“Ryker did you tell her she’d keep watching Lily, part time? Why would you do that?”

“Ay. I may not have told her she won’t be needed after Miss Linda gets into the swing of things. Its baby steps, love. We’re all taking as much as we can. Let’s get to that bridge first before we burn it, love.” He chastises me. Like a child.

And I take it. Because I have to.

Because I don’t want to make a scene in front of my daughter and parents. And I don’t want to act like an ass at our wedding rehearsal dinner. So I smile. I shake hands with the guests and listen to idle chit-chat until I feel like my skin is going to come unglued with Ryker right there at my side.

When he tells me good night after the party, I smile and lie, letting him believe everything is fine. Because I don’t want to lose him. Not when I’m this close to getting my everything. And when he tells me, “Ivy love, I’m sorry about the Jenny thing. I’ll get rid of her as soon as the weddings over.” I believe him and try my hand at letting shit go.

“It’s okay, Ryker. I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.” I tell him before kissing him and telling him goodbye.

Long after Ryker’s gone, I’m in bed tossing and turning as nightmares of Ryker and Jenny bombard my peaceful sleeping dreams. Ryker and Jenny, skin on skin. Sweating. In his bed, against his shower wall, on top of the kitchen counter—in all, and I mean all, of
our
usual spots. I sleep so terribly that my stomach is in knots when I wake up and I’m queasy the next morning.

I don’t have much time left with him before he leaves tomorrow night after his party. And I don’t want to spend that time bitching because of my own insecurities.

I make my way through a long tedious morning, I call Ryker on my way out of SMI to see if he’s on time for lunch. Just as he tells me he loves me before we disconnect the call, I see Jenny in the parking lot, now obviously also haunting me while I’m awake.

Only, she isn’t haunting me. I watch as she slides into Livvy’s car before Livvy drives away.

Hmm. That’s odd. The thought strikes before looping through my mind over and over.

What in the hell is Livvy doing with Jenny? What’s a motorcycle chick with a bad coke habit doing with a twenty-two-year-old bright eyed future master holder of child education?

But before I can devote too much attention to it, my cell rings-it’s Mom.

I slide my finger across the screen and answer my phone. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie. How ya holding up?” she asks and immediately my defenses rise.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She keeps waiting for me to fall apart or have a nervous breakdown. I don’t know what happened before her and Dad’s wedding, but shit, I’m glad I wasn’t there.

“No, no. I just mean, I know how tiring this all can be. That’s all, sweetie. You headed home?”

I sigh before confessing I’m a loser, but in different words, “Yeah. I finished at work early. I don’t have any friends, so I won’t have a bachelorette party. What I do have, is a garden tub and a new smut novel downloaded on my Kindle. So home, at my brother’s, is where I’m headed.”

She’s silent for a few moments before she nervously speaks, “You want me to bring over a bottle of chardonnay and some bonbons? We can watch The Voice.”

God bless her heart. She tries. She really does try.

“Mom, I can’t.” I chuckle.

“Oh.”

Bless her heart.

“It’s okay. I’ll put the smut novel off, you bring the bonbons. We’ll watch whatever episodes of The Voice I haven’t seen that’s Tivo’d. It’ll be a blast.”