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Chapter Eighteen
Alice
Simon has been avoiding me for the last two weeks. He’s super professional during filming—to the point of no touching beyond what is needed for the show. After all, we do have a role to play. But as soon as the camera is off, he releases my hand as if I burned him, stepping away and even ignoring me for most of the time we are offscreen.
I know we need to talk about what happened, but I also know that I won’t like what he has to say. I think he just wants it to go away, and I don’t want to bring it up, for fear of hearing something that will crush me, so we walk on eggshells around each other.
The highlight of my days is the time I get to spend with Ivy. She’s precocious, smart, and quizzical. It pains me to see how she wants Simon to hang out with us, but anytime we aren’t filming, he’s logging long hours at the hospital, most nights not even coming home until around midnight. I hear the door shut and his footsteps as they pass my door.
Last night, he paused for a second, and I dared to hope that he would push my door open and finish what we’d started by the pool. But then he continued on, and I rolled over in bed, clenching my eyes shut and praying for sleep to claim me.
“Hey, sweetie,” I say as I pop my head in Ivy’s room.
She’s lying across her floor, sheets of paper filled with color strewn out in front of her. Markers dot the area, and she even has some blue marks on her arms.
“Hard at work?”
“I wanted some new pictures for my walls,” she says, critically eyeing the paper in front of her.
I glance around at her walls, filled with so much color, and I smile. This is a girl after my own heart. I love bright things too.
I sit down next to her, pulling a blank page toward myself, and grab the closest marker. Ivy grins up at me.
“So, I wanted to talk about your birthday,” I say.
I instantly jump when Ivy squeals and sits up on her knees.
“I want a unicorn rainbow party.”
“You do? Well, that was easy.” I smile at her, and she claps.
“Yep, I have it all planned. How hard would it be to get an actual unicorn to come?” She frowns and tilts her head sideways.
“Oh.” I purse my lips. “I imagine that might be a little difficult. I can talk to your dad and see what we can do.”
“No, he will think it’s silly. I just wanted to ask,” Ivy says, going back to her artwork.
“Nothing you think or dream up is silly,” I tell her, coloring in my picture I sketched out. “How about we find some time next week and go to the party store to pick out all the decorations?”
“Yes,” Ivy says, nodding emphatically with a huge smile. “Let’s do it.”
“Perfect. I’ll talk to your dad, and we can set a date. Then, party planning will commence!” I clap to punctuate my sentence.
Ivy surprises me by launching herself into my arms, squeezing me tight. “Thank you,” she says.
And the two words break my heart. I pat her back, comforting her. I want her to be so happy, and if this is something that will make her feel more seen, then I’m going to bust my ass to make it the best party ever.
It’s now been almost three weeks since we started this show, and Simon has barely talked to me for two of them. It’s been a fun game of dancing around each other. I’ve occupied myself with taking care of Ivy and trying to be invisible.
We also found out what our next relationship task would be. A getaway, just us two in a pre-planned destination. They won’t tell us where we are going until the day before we leave, which is today. This is probably both of our literal worst nightmares at this time in our lives. It seems we are just existing on a hope and a prayer in the same house. Avoidance is the name of the game. And we are playing the game like professionals.
A knock on my doorframe has me glancing up from my bed, where I have an assortment of clothes laid out, trying to decide what to pack. Simon stands there, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning one shoulder slightly against the wood.
“Hey,” he says.
I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands, so I grab the closest item of clothing and start to fold it.
“Hi,” I say and let the silence linger until he wants to say something. I don’t really think the silence has been my fault, and I’m starting to feel a little annoyed by it. I lay the folded dress back on the bed.
