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CHAPTER 9:
Ivy
I’m about to head over to George’s for the evening. It’s two days before Christmas, and I’ve told Owen and Cynthia that I’m going to a friend’s Christmas party. George and I’ve seen each other every chance we’ve had, and the lying is starting to wear on me. Every time feels a little bit worse. George and I are actually going to see a stage production ofA Christmas Carol. It’s always been one of my favorite stories, and I’m excited to see it on Broadway.
“You’re leaving early for your party, aren’t you?” my aunt comments as I start to leave.
“I’m helping my friend set up,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear a bit nervously.
“You look nice.” Cynthia looks at me, curious. “You’ve been out a lot lately. Trying to impress someone?”
I laugh her off. “It’s Christmas, Aunt Cynthia. People dress up. I’ll try to be home before midnight.”
Cynthia pets Gracie who comes to stand beside her. “I worry about you staying out so late and taking the subway. I just don’t feel it’s safe.”
Now I really feel terrible. “We’re New Yorkers. You can’t have a life if you don’t take the subway. Once I finish my classes, maybe I can get a place in the city with a roommate. Maybe it will take some of the angst out of it, and some of the expense for you and Uncle Owen.” What she doesn’t know is that George drives me to the edge of the block and drops me off each time. He always drives by once I enter the door to ensure that I’ve made it in safely. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up without blowing our cover, but I would like to at least get through the holidays before I broach the subject with my aunt and uncle.
“Just be sure and save tomorrow night for us. It’s Christmas Eve, and I am making us a feast. We’ll have a real family night.”
“You bet!” I promise as I hug her tightly.
As I leave, I get a text from George saying that his meeting is running late, and it would be best if I meet him at the office so we can make our reservations on time. When I get to his office building, I take the back entrance that George showed me and use my key fob for the private elevator, taking it up to his suite.
Waiting in the living quarters upstairs, I’m struck by the quiet. It’s too quiet...and sterile. After all of the Christmas decorations that I have put up at George’s penthouse, this is a stark reminder of the way things were. They have come a long way.
Looking at my watch, I see it’s after six-thirty. Anita is off for the holidays, so I have the whole place to myself without having to worry about her entering. This gives me a mischievous idea, a delightfully naughty one. After all, it is after hours and it’s the holidays. Surely everyone is home with their families by now.
Walking down the stairs, I peek out into the waiting area. All clear as it should be. I’m wearing black slacks with a sparkly silver blouse that I unbutton a bit more to reveal the sexy black lace of my bra. I take a seat in George’s chair, turning it to look out over the city as I read one of the business journals lying nearby.
Hearing the door open a few minutes later, I turn around to give George my most come hither look. “It’s about time you were finished, darling.”
When I look up, I’m horrified to realize that the person who entered isn’t George. No, it’s much worse than my very worst nightmare! I am staring directly into the shocked eyes of Uncle Owen!
Quickly pulling the edges of my blouse together, I begin buttoning it with trembling fingers. “Uncle Owen…”
“Ivy...” His voice is rough…angry. “What the hell is this? What are you doing here?” He waves his arms wildly at me. “And dressed…undressed like that! What am I seeing?”
I can’t say anything. After all, what is there to say? It’sexactlywhat it looks like.
“Ivy, is this what you have been doing the last few weeks? You’ve beenlyingto us the entire time about where you were…who you were with?” His face is a blood red, almost purple, with rage.
“I’m seeing George, Uncle Owen,” I say quietly, my voice small…shaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
The look of disgust and disappointment on his face breaks my heart. I’ve let him down.
“Uncle Owen, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you with this.”
Something shifts in his expression…settles. “We’ll talk when you get home,” he says dully as he turns away, his shoulders slumped in resignation as he tiredly walks out.
Shaking, I walk back up the stairs to the apartment. What just happened? Throwing myself on the sofa, I grab a pillow, tucking it into my stomach as I begin to weep.
“Ivy, what’s wrong?” George asks worriedly when he enters the apartment. I have no idea how long it’s been. Between sobs and hiccups, I tell him what happened.
George’s look is somber. “I was afraid something like this would happen.” He pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you, Ivy. Do you want me to take you home?”
I can barely see him through the haze of tears. “You got tickets for the play.”
He places his hands on either side of my face, staring at me intently. “I think this is more important. We can see it next year.”
