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“Oh shit.” I forgot he was in the room with us. Jackson has been here for the whole conversation. Watching it unfold so he could report back to Rogue. And there is no way we’re not going to fight about this.
Dizzy releases her grip on my arm. “I am your friend, Ivy. That’s why I’m being honest with you.”
“I think I need to take a nap,” I say. Perhaps I’m just overly sensitive because I’ve been so sick and miserable these last few days.
She picks up her bag and lifts the strap over her shoulder. “Call me later?”
“Sure.”
“Want to walk a girl out, Jackson?” Dizzy asks him.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he says before he escorts her away.
I sink onto the couch that is now littered with popcorn. The buttery aroma makes my stomach turn.
Dizzy is right about one thing. Being with Rogue is always going to be what I want. I didn’t need time to think about whether our relationship was as much of a lie as that piece of paper was.
We might not have had a wedding, but our marriage was real. Emotionally.
He protected me and cared for me when I wasn’t capable of doing so myself. He loved me without fear or holding back even though he couldn’t be certain that I would ever love him the way I once did.
But I do. I love him so much and that is worth fighting for. This isn’t the realization though. It’s that I would walk the same path over and over again to have experienced what we have.
I would do it in a heartbeat every time. Even if the only ending we can ever have is grief.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rogue
"You’vereachedMartyKendall.Reporter atHollywood Juice. Wait for the beep.”
The tires skid on the smooth concrete of the parking garage as I bring the Jeep to a stop next to Ivy’s Mercedes. I drag a hand through my unkempt hair. “Yeah, it’s me again. I haven’t heard from you in over a week. Figured you’d be back from Phoenix by now…”
Honestly I’m starting to worry. The last time I heard from Marty she said she was going to look into why Richard Love was in Phoenix. I’d told her Ivy said it was for a business meeting, but Marty had this feeling… like there had to be more detail to it.
“Just call me back.” I expel a lungful of tension as I hang up. Marty will keep. If she’s the same as she was back when we were friends the woman can keep herself out of trouble without my help.
Climbing out of the Jeep, I pocket my phone and keys and stride toward the elevator that will take me up to the penthouse.
The steel box rises smoothly. I tap my fingertips against my leg. It’s been a long few days. Not quite as bad as the days Ivy spent in lockdown, but bad all the same. The only thing that kept me from losing it was the fact that she read every message I sent and that she never once told me we were over.
That and Jackson kept me informed of how she was doing on a daily basis. I might not know where we stand, but as long as she was safe I could handle her need for space.
Even if she’s been in bed with a stomach bug for the majority of the time we’ve been apart. The number of times that I’ve almost turned around and ignored her desire for space just so I could hold her hair back while she was sick is borderline disturbing.
Summer had to talk me down several times as I was marching out to my truck to come here. Reminded me that my gung ho approach is what had her needing to take that space in the first place.
The problem is that I’m not sorry that I’m obsessed with Ivy. I’m not about to become less hotheaded or impulsive. That is who I have always been.
I take a deep breath as the elevator settles in its final position outside the penthouse. When she messaged me that it was time to talk I dropped everything to be here, but now that I am the nerves are kicking in.
The steel doors open and Jackson is waiting for me. He stands with his feet spread wide and his hands loosely clasped at his back as I step out.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Unwell,” he says.
“Still?” I raise a brow at that. These stomach bugs usually only last one or two days.
