Page 42 of Mr. Match

“Not this again,” I say, wishing this fucking car ride was already over. “I told you guys, that’s history.”

“History matters, Oliver,” Ivy says. “And we’re gonna get to the bottom of this and take care of business.”

Damn, fucking Ivy is all over our shit this morning. I pegged her as the quiet, meek type. Apparently I missed the memo when she turned into a badass.

We’re quiet for about twenty minutes after that. There’s almost no traffic going north this time of day, but it’s a long boring drive.

I’m just about to think Ivy went to sleep, she’s been so still and quiet, when she asks, in her not-so-meek voice, “So who’s coming back from your past, Oliver?”

“Ivy,” Nolan says in a low voice from the back seat.

“What?” she snaps, turning around in her seat so she can look at him. “What? I think we have every right to ask.”

“I told you to let me handle it.” Nolan practically growls his words.

“So handle it. Now’s as good a time as any.”

“Damn, Delaney. Your wife is like a fucking pitbull this morning.”

“Victoria is one hundred percent right,” Ivy says.

Both Nolan and I groan. Loudly.

“Well, she is. She’s been telling you guys for a month that Weston’s parents have to be involved. And now we find out that Paxton’s mother is involved too? Tori and I have children to think about. We can’t afford to let this fester.” Ivy straightens up in her seat. Cracks her knuckles. Cracks her knuckles! “Like I said, we’re gonna take care of business. So tell us, Oliver. Who is your special someone who just happened to reappear in your life out of nowhere?”

“No. One,” I say, enunciating each word. “There is nothing weird going on in my life. It’s as boring as it ever was.”

“Hm,” Ivy says, crossing her arms. She’s practically calling me a liar.

“Well,” Nolan says, leaning into the front seat again. “Are you sure? Because West says you were checking your watch last night. Like you had somewhere to be.”

“And Ariel said West caught you jerking off at your desk yesterday morning.”

“Ivy,” Nolan cautions.

“What? It’s true, right? And Ariel says that’s not normal. She says—in fact, everyone says—that Oliver is some kind of celibate priest. Now all of a sudden he gets handed some delete files and he’s jerking off at work? Who was in that stack, Oliver?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Ivy,” Nolan warns a second time.

But Ivy is on some kind of pregnant, hormonal witch hunt. And I’m the witch. “You might as well come clean. Because Ariel is all over that stack of delete papers. She’s gonna find out who got you all hot and bothered yesterday. And when she does—”

“There’s no one,” I repeat. “I mean it. Just fucking drop it, OK?”

Ivy turns her head and stares out the window for the next twenty miles. I’m thanking my lucky stars that this car-ride is just about over when I finally make it to the Fort Collins off ramp and start heading west towards town.

“Where are you guys staying?” I finally ask, breaking the silent treatment Ivy is throwing.

“Ariel’s,” Nolan says. Ivy ignores me and I’m OK with that. “I guess she has some big-ass house in downtown.”

“Yeah,” I say. That’s just great. They are all a two-minute car ride from my garage. I’m gonna have to let Katya know we need to lie low until they leave town again. I mean, how long can they possibly stay? Two days? Three tops?

We are all quiet the rest of the drive back into the neighborhood. Ivy gets interested in the quaint downtown, but she doesn’t say anything else.

When I pull up in front of the Milkshake Mansion, she claps her hands together in glee.

“What the fuck is that?” Nolan asks, craning his neck towards the window so he can see the monstrous Santa Claus in the front yard.