“To what end?” Ivy asks. “I want to be honest. I’m not a fling person. I also don’t live in California or England. I’m certainly not looking for a transcontinental relationship.”
“I don’t live here. It would just be across the country at first.”
She sighs. “You’ve been incredible to me. To my family. And I genuinely like you. But I think the Venn diagram of our lives is only going to overlap on this trip. I love my life and I have to believe there is someone out there who would easily fit into it. Nothing would be simple with us. I don't want to becomeattached to you only for things to get too hard, and I really don’t want you to come into my life only to be halfway there. I’ve had enough of that in my life already and I’m not going to allow it to happen again.”
“I could—”
“Do you really want to upend your life for a woman you met yesterday? If we don’t get to know each other further, we can avoid a lot of heartache.”
“You don’t think it could be worth trying?”
“I don’t want to try for something that’s impossible.” Ivy opens her door slightly. “You’ll find someone who fits your life and I’ll find someone who fits mine. We’ll be happy; it just won’t be together.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek. I close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of it, rather than what’s happening inside me. I open my eyes at the sound of her door closing and watch as she walks inside, not looking back.
I come into my house to the smell of biscuits baking. It’s unlike Mrs. Brown to cook at night. Generally, once she cleans up dinner, she closes down the kitchen for the night. I follow the smell and the sound of her tuneless humming.
“I’m making biscuits so the next time you bring them hereI’ll have some for the kids. I’ll pull them out of the freezer if you give me a heads-up. They will be around several more days, right?”
“I don’t think they’ll be back,” I say, taking a biscuit from the cooling rack. Shortbread with chocolate chips and walnuts. Mrs. Brown always remembers my favorites. I smile, feeling a bit lighter.
“Why not? They were delightful. And that Ivy; I saw how you looked at her. And how she looked at you. What happened?”
“Logistics happened.” I shrug, portraying an indifference I’m not feeling. “She thinks there’s too much we would have to overcome, and we’d just end up with heartbreak in the end.”
Mrs. Brown drops her oven glove on the counter. “And what do you think?”
I sigh. “I’m not sure she’s wrong.”
“You like her a lot, don't you?”
I pick up a second biscuit. “I think so. But how could I? I’ve known her for two days. That’s not really long enough to know. She could have some monstrous habits I’ve yet to see. What if she enjoys kicking the canes out from under old people?” I try to make light of the situation, but it falls flat. For Mrs. Brown and for me.
“I’m sorry, lad.” She pats me on the arm. “Give it a day or two and see how you feel.”
I nod and watch as she puts three more biscuits on a plate for me and checks the last pan in the oven, then take my plate to the living room.
I sit in my mum’s favorite place, a sage green tufted armchair, and pull out my phone. I’m met with the photo I’d jokingly put as my lock screen. We look like a couple in love. We hold each other like we’ve done it hundreds of times. And I want to. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything more.
I open my photos to one I took when Ivy wasn’t looking. She’s looking out toward the Tower Bridge. I’d looked over at her, and the lighting was perfect. She looked perfect. I sigh and send the photo to her, without words.
16
Ivy
I’dcutoffmyphone when I got inside the hotel last night. I didn’t want to risk hearing from him or going down the rabbit hole that is the Alexander Henry corner of the internet. Now I sit on the sofa in our room, eating the breakfast pastry Micah brought me and staring down at the photo Alex sent me last night.
“You look gorgeous!” Val says as she looks over my shoulder. I haven’t told my sister about my conversation with Alex. I don’t want her opinion on it. At least not yet. When I don’t respond, she continues, “I wanna see the one of y’all together.”
I’d been tempted to delete it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I open the photo and pass the phone to Val.
“Wow. You guys look perfect together. Like … oh, are you going to post this on your socials? You should!”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Why? Oh, wait. He has a girlfriend! I totally forgot. He doesn’t act like he has a girlfriend.” She looks incredibly disappointed. “He seems like such a good person.”
“Their relationship wasn’t real. Their agents set it up. You can't tell anyone.”
