Page 21

Conflict

“Ironic how one can claim solidarity without the other’s consent. I never agreed; it was never in agreeance. Taydennnnnnnn…Check.”

—Red

“Ironic, how you think you think I needed your consent to place you in solitary. Fuck your whispers……Checkmate.”

—Ivy

I can feel the irony pushing through my intellectual thoughts; the idea that one can sit and have breakfast with a man they just made love to but think about another is the core of my reality once again.

Sitting here at the table, I stare out, watching the snowfall.

I’d love more than anything to blame this on my past and all that wired my fucked-up brain from a young age, but the reality is I am an adult just like everyone else, and my excuses are running weak even for me.

Internally, I am overwhelmed; outwardly, I’m like an FBI agent, cool, calm, and ready to stay the course, hoping I get to be good cop instead of a bad cop.

Rightfully, I would play the ladder better, but for sanity, I’d like to stay the course.

I have no room for error anymore.The intrusions penetrating my mind are like tidal waves crashing under the pier, and I’m just trying to stay afloat, but as soon as I clear one to try and catch my breath, there is another crashing into me.

Today certainly feels like a day I’d prefer to just throw my hands up and let the waves take me under.

It would certainly solve many of my problems, but I know it would only create intractable ones for those who love me.

I’m so tired of staying here for others.

I pray the time comes when I wake up just once for me.

The image of little me sitting in front of my dad’s gun case, my tiny finger on the trigger, tears streaming down my face, completely blind to the entire world, creeps in.

Feels as if for a lifetime that I’ve prolonged the inevitable, the epilogue to my story, my happily ever after, the only one I feel was ever intended for me when I was created, to suffer, then die.

To love than loss, to crave me and only ever find them.

Some would say I love the torture, but the truth is, waking up to just roll through the motions isn’t a choice.

It’s all I fucking know.

The first memories of mine have always been lying wherever my body was placed, staring at the ceiling until the sun became the moon and the moon the sun.

Survival, self-doubt, degradation, and entrapment in my own head is all I felt day in and day out.

I can’t get out of her little head.

No matter how hard I try, I’m stuck in a perpetual loop.

I wish it was different.

God, I’ve worked so hard to find the pieces to my puzzle to put myself back together, but they never fit in the right place, and every time I try, there are many still missing, ones I can’t find, resolve, or get back if they ever even existed in the first place.

Not through love or friendship.

Fuck, Evalyn couldn’t even help me remake one single piece, only understand the ones I had.

I’m pathetic, worthless, and fucking trapped; even worse, I’ve entrapped two people who don’t deserve it along with me.

I love them wrong, but damn do I love the wrong in every ounce of love they both give me.

How are we here again? How am I still where I was at five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve… broken and alone? Why is my version of love what transpired in that shower with Liam? What transpired in the car with Tayden.

At the track with Tayden.

Why is my version of making love fucking? Okay, Ivy, reel it in.

Did the shower teach you nothing? You’re on thin ice.

Okay, ice is not the right word.

Fuck me, it all leads back to the cold; it always fucking does.

I wish I didn’t need him; I wish I could leave him in my past.

Selfishly, I’m not sure I ever can, even if having him in my life keeps all that is my past resurrected in my future.

Maybe I should tell him all I didn’t, then he’d leave for certain.

No, idiot.

That is dumb as fuck.

Who are you without him?

I feel the air slipping from me, my body temperature rising warmer and warmer by the second like a fire was lit inside of me in an instant, my mouth turning dry, my naturally flushed face turning into the color I hate most—Red.

I reach my hand up to pull on my overly tightened robe, holding my neck hostage.

My skin in a race from the threads that surround it, fighting to loosen it like it is the problem, and not everything that I am as a human could be causing this reaction.

Shame, disgust, fraud, little me running through my head on repeat like a Rolodex that never ends.

This morning things feel different since what Liam did to me in the shower; things feel heavier, and I can feel myself disassociating as I stare into nothing, yet I feel everything at the same time right there in the four pieces of wood that frame that window.

I miss him.

I wonder how his day was; what did he cook for Anastasia for dinner? Was it a homemade poke bowl, the perfectly seared filet mignon topped with garlic butter and toasted chives? How work has been? Are his monthly revenues where I know he likes them to be since he transitioned the company here? Does he miss me? It’s not always sex with us.

We are so much more, but the world never sees that because those conversations are ours, and since the studio, we still have had none.

I miss his laugh, his feel, his intoxicating scent of leather and vanilla.

I miss my best friend.

Without him, my phone has been useless other than work.

Every day, I pray the ding is him, but it never is.

Maybe I was right.

I was just a fuck to conquer.

Yeah right, you know better.

He’s just someone who loves you and always respects your wishes, even when you hope he won’t .

Of course, that’s it, and I knew that when I said what I said to him.

I knew he’d walk away.

He always does as I say; no isn’t an answer he’s mastered when it comes to me, nor I to him, which is why we are here yet again.

It seems implausible for me to love two men when I am constantly fighting for my own, much less love anyone when I have never been loved in my life in an ordinary fashion.

On the one hand, I have Liam, who I know everything about and nothing at all, but it is easy.

Well, it was.

Now, I have many questions.

Then Tayden, for some eerie reason, I can see a few times in our lifetime and know him to his core, every decision he will make before he makes it, how he comes to his decisions, and who he is deep inside behind the flashy cars, the perfect family portrait and the calm and collected demeanor.

The one who got away.

In our continued communications over the years, I’ve learned that, at times, I know him better than he knows himself.He knows it, too; Fuck, I miss him texting me that.

I miss his threes and sixes.

I love you—three.

I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge—six.

Reaching across the table, my hand grasps the knife, dragging it through the most delicious homemade butter, not breaking eye contact, the snow remaining in my gaze.

I do this a lot, second- hand motions that are pure muscle memory, while my brain stays circling like a water wheel, unable to break from it, the water falling and being pulled right back up, going round and round.

I am here at the table, yet so far away at the same time.

A place I was locked in one time had an answer for this, but fuck them.

Evalyn had another answer.

I trust her more.

Fuck, the snow is falling so beautifully.

I love you, T.

“Ivy.”

I know in my mind he is speaking, but the trance I am in forbids me from acknowledging him.I continue smearing the butter across my perfectly golden toast back and forth, back, and forth.

“Ivy,”

he repeats.

I continue to just stare off into oblivion, thoughts being the only thing that register in this moment.

“Little bird,”

he declares, his tone more agitated than before.

His frustration doesn’t catch my attention, more the words. Snapping my head over, I catch his gaze. The fuck does he keep calling me little bird for?

“You are doing it again, Ivy, staring off lifeless in my presence, but I am certain running a reel through your mind. Are you ok?”

his face soft and concerned.I look at him with confusion on my face, squinting behind my glasses because I am staring at a man who, in the past twenty-four hours, has taken everything I didn’t know about him and multiplied it in a one-hour sex fest to a curiosity, no, to a treasure hunt I can’t help but want the map to.

My knowledge of Liam went from Mercury to Pluto in one thousand four hundred and forty minutes, and although the snow has me wrapped in T, the other half of my brain is reeling in a lot of unknown questions, reminding me how little I know of my ever and ever amen .

How much I need to discover.

I’ve spent my whole life hiding from people, blending in, and becoming a chameleon so questions aren’t asked.

I guess my comfort to never be found out and seen clouded the fact that I never dug into the man I lay in bed with every weekend, the man I’ve built a life with, the man that I could never let go of.

The human who makes me question my love for Tayden.

“Yes, I am fine, you know me; sometimes I just wander off into daydream land, and the world my body exists in doesn’t register while I’m deep in thought. I apologize. It was no more than that.”

I exhale, reaching over to grab his hand, paired with a love squeeze for reassurance.

I find it endearing that the Liam who sits before me is the one I always knew to constantly need reassurance, while the one he shows me when he is engulfing my body needs none.Maybe it’s all an act.

I mean, it would make sense if he has been merely feeding me what he thinks I need.

I couldn’t blame him, I do the exact same to him.

Am I dating myself? Ha, that would be the fucking day. You’re losing it, friend. He’s the normal; you are the abnormal. Stop trying to twist reality.

“What do you have going on today?”

“Well, I figured I’d head out and work on the barn for a while. As you know, I didn’t make it before winter, so I’m hoping to at least get it finished before our first Nor’easter. When that will be is stilla mystery to be seen.”

I chuckle as he joins in, but he isn’t lying. When the brunt of winter officially starts up here, is so different from year to year. I prefer to be surprised while Liam, on the other hand, has his own methods, or inside man, I should say.

“Have you checked in with the hillbilly weatherman?”

I tease, knowing he loves that guy.

“Not recently, and no posts mean good news, so I should still have time. You? Any plans?”

Wiping the gravy off his mouth, he throws his napkin on his empty plate, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, his body relaxed. In fact, more relaxed than I have seen him, maybe ever. That’s a crack, that’s a tell, just to what, is the question. What are you telling me, Liam, without even knowing you are? I’m on to you, Mr. Maddox.

“Yeah, actually. I am meeting up with Olive for lunch at Lotus, and then we’re going to hit up some of the local stores. I plan on being back early ‘cause I have to get some work done in the study for that deal we are still fine-tuning.”

I can see the tension building in him, and I’m waiting for it. Here it comes.

“So, mimosas and drinking with a dash of shopping and non-frugal spending habits,”

he interjects, visibly worried about my day. I know he’s not concerned about Olive and I hanging out; no, it is alcohol and not being with him when I have it. He’s worried about her—Red—and her love for him. Even though to him, she is me, and Red doesn’t exist in his world in the slightest. Alcohol has always made my desires for Tayden stronger. My ability to shadow them weakens and she always ends up reaching out to him.

“Come on, Liam, a few drinks in moderation didn’t kill the cat,” I joke.

Standing up from the table, returning his dish to the sink, I can hear him snarl.

His thoughts locked-in, unwilling to share, but I imagine if he knew about her, it would sound something like, “It’s the few that lead to the many that lead to her, and you know I like her.

Seriously, Ivy? That’s a stretch.

Like her? Go off, but not when there is no you with her, and I know she has been gone, but everything you do can mess with the balance you have managed, and releasing the slightest control can cause our world to flip on its axle once again.

I am by no means telling you what to do.

I am, however, telling you the fire burns red, and after you extinguished her, I am fearful of what may happen if she ever returns abruptly.

I worry you keeping her fully away is more harmful than good, like a ticking time bomb; just tread lightly and safely, is all I ask.”

And he would have a point.

I have lessened my drinking since I eradicated Red from my mind; not that I have a problem with not drinking, but it does allow me outside of my shell.

When I am drunk, she is drunk, and her drunk is like a meteorite orbiting in Earth’s atmosphere, never knowing when or what it may crash into nor what feelings will arise.

To which I would respond to himwith intent to subside his concerns.

“It’s lunch with Olive, babe. It’s a drink and some fun, don’t worry about me. I mean, seriously, have you met me? And besides, I have work to do tonight, so I won’t be drinking much. And for the record, I’m not going to text or call him. That’s the real concern here, after all, isn’t it?”

And he would love and release me from this conversation without a hitch. See, no harm, no fowl. But none of that is said, simply just a version of our simple, our boring fucking surface-level vanilla.

“You go ahead and head out, and I’ll clean this up before I get ready to meet up with Olive. Oh, and I moved your boots by the back door also.”

“It’s not the cat I’m worried about; it’s the mouse. I hope yous guys have a good time, princess. Oh, and tell Olive that Dax needs to text me back.”

“Sure will. Are you planning something with him?”

“No. Fantasy football stuff, nothing serious, just tell her to give him shit. I stole Gronk from him last night.”

“Yeah, I’m going to leave that between you boys, but nice steal, Mr. Maddox.”

“Thank you, princess,”

his soft lips whisper across mine, pulling me in for a kiss.

Heading across the house towards the mud room, a smile across his face, he slips into his bibs, boots, and Carhartt before trailing out to the shop, leaving me to clean these dishes, which I now regret offering to do, but I can get over my phobia for a day.

Right? It’s not like anything has been normal with us in the last twenty-four hours anyway.

I want to talk to Liam, to storm out to the barn and demand we stop tip-toeing, but fear overtakes me when I think about the questions I have and what his answers may do or change for me.

For us .

Letting it lie for now, I release a large sigh, watching him trek through the snow to his wood shop, his sanctuary—the barn.

I backtrack back to the kitchen and these dishes.

Fuck, I hate my hands being wet.

I wonder if anyone else in the world has my same phobia? Is it even a real one? Like, is there a name for it? I should google it.

No, ADHD brain, reel it in.

You have shopping to get ready for, and that’s just what your pretty little brain needs.

Girl time, a distraction.

Yes, a distraction, keep going, further-further-further.

Fuck, there it is.

The perfect icy temperature encasing my hands, flowing glacially across my skin, igniting me, reminding me, loving me.

Slamming the faucet off, pushing my desires away, I hurriedly dry my hands as I look around, making sure I was not seen.

Fuck the dishes.

I’ll do them later. Fuck you, T. I’m not folding first.

Grabbing my things, I rush out of the house as I am already running late in true fashion.

Flashbacks in the shower this morning while trying to get ready are to blame.

Well, that and my poor sense of time since birth.

I see Liam over at the barn, the sound of the air compressor engulfing the stillness of the air.

I stop, just taking him all in.

He truly is a sight to see, especially when he is in his element, building and creating with those beautiful big hands.

Snowflakes flutter all around as I trek through the snow over to him.

“Liam,”

I shout, my words falling on deaf ears.

“LIIIIIAMMMMM,”

I exclaim, hoping to reach his attention.

He hears me, setting down the nail gun, as he turns to me.

“I am heading out. I just wanted to let you know.”

Getting closer to him, I reach in, wrapping my arms around him.

His frozen nose snuggles in the curve of my neck.

Squeezing tighter, I pull his cold nose closer to my body.

Leaning my head back, his hands encasing my face, gazing into my soul, he leans in, placing his lips to mine, slowly intertwining our tongues.

His exhale so deep, the warmth creeps between my thighs.

I pull back playfully.

“I am already late. I have to go. Love you,”

I say, turning away.

Suddenly, his hand latches onto my wrist, pulling me back into him.

This time, he only stares at me while I wait for another kiss.

Brushing his hand through my hair, his breath nears my ear as he swallows and whispers, “Be good, little bird, for there are consequences when you are not.”

My bottom lip curls between my teeth at the thought of his consequences, my eyes exploring the windows to his soul skillfully.

I’m not intrigued to see what would happen if I got on his naughty list again, or am I?

“Consequences, huh? Maybe I’ll have a few extra drinks out of curiosity,”

I taunt, turning to leave, not making it one foot before I’m jolted by a hard smack to my ass. His words race to my ears before traveling between my thighs.

“Oh, princess, that was a fucking appetizer. I’m not convinced you’d make it through the second course, much less all the way to dessert.”

“Okay, sweet man.”

I’m not sure I want the war I just started, but to learn the things I’m aware I need to, one cannot play a fair game, and this is the only card I have to ruffle his feathers.

I imagine if I were to turn around, the look on his face would make me desperately regret it.

So, I don’t.

A laugh escapes me as I skip away through the snow toward my vehicle.Backing out, I turn to see him still staring at me, his cold face telling me I’m so literally fucked when I return.

Good.

Making love has never been on my meal card, fucking on the other hand, well , it’s an untamable craving.Peering over at my phone sitting in the cupholder, intrusive thoughts begin.

Instantly, I am at war with myself, wondering what Liam would have said a few moments ago if he knew about her, what I said to myself in his place earlier at breakfast, and the thoughts I was having.

Would he still love me like he has is he came to the true knowledge of T and I? Months ago, this was the exact moment I would’ve picked up my phone and messaged Tayden, no Liam around to make that unobtainable.

Although we haven’t talked in a while, you’d think it would make things easier, but the insecurity of why he hasn’t reached out has been eating me alive.

Maybe we are in a game of who folds first.

I certainly know I won’t, at least I hope not, but the silent standoff makes it disgustingly tempting.

Picking up my phone, I click his name, scrolling to the last messages on our thread I have yet to delete, hoping for comfort or a reminder of why it’s best this way.My thumb hovers the letters; knowing I shouldn’t, as I begin to type.

Hey T, I hope life is treating you well.

I miss you.

Aggressively, I begin to backspace every letter, backing out completely, searching for Olive’s thread, shooting her a quick message letting her know I’m on my way.

Phone down, I crank my therapy. “Angels on the Moon”

by Thriving Ivory. Fuck yes. My escape .

“Don’t tell me if I’m dying, ‘cause I don’t want to know,”

comes pouring from my lungs.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I be a normal fucking human? Always twist and turns and shit man, fuck. You are a fucking idiot. You shouldn’t have even looked at your last texts, fucking weak.

I grip the steering wheel with one hand while hitting it with the other, abusively letting out a loud scream. “ FUCKKKKKKKKK.”

Get your shit together. You’re almost there; you just passed the Cornish city limit sign.

I see Olive’s car as I pull in. Reaching in my bag, I pull out my powder, flipping down the visor, touching up my makeup before heading in. At least I didn’t fold, so I’m growing. I think.

“Damn girl, late, late, late, as usual.”

Olive cackles

Yeah, yeah, not all of us can be perfectionists on art gallery time, lady,”

I banter back as we make our way through the front door hidden just under the lattice-covered patio.

“Name?”

the young girl behind the hostess’s desk asks.

“Ivy.”

“Perfect, follow me. We have your usual table ready for you ladies just over here.”

Olive and I follow the young hostess as she guides us to the back of the restaurant.

Lotus is mine and Olive’s go-to-spot when we meet to catch up; although she also works in the city, she, just as I, prefers the quiet that Rowe has to offer.

She and Dax bought a place out there almost a year after I sold Liam his.

It’s a nice escape from the hustle and bustle of city life.

When we both find ourselves out here at the same time, we always make the trip to the next town over for lunch at Lotus to catch up when scheduling allows it.

It is quaint but vibrant.

It also houses my favorite little bed and breakfast I used to escape to when needed before I was gifted my home from T.

Lotus is a piece of that serenity for me.

You walk in, and instantly, your sad turns to happy.

Each room has a different feel, and we always sit in the back room with the vibrant lanterns hanging from the ceilings that overlook the perfect little waterfall snuggled between the rustic rocks and tall pines.

Passing the bar on our right, we enter our destination taking our seats.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly; can I start you ladies with some drinks?”

“Yes, I will have an apple cider mimosa with a sugar cinnamon brim, and a drizzle of maple syrup.”

“And I will take your loaded bloody mary,”

Olive adds.

“Do you want some olives in that?” I joke.

Shooting me her infamous ‘yous got jokes’ glare over the top of the menu.

“Perfect, I will get these put in.”

“So, reservation under Ivy, I see. So, no returns lately?”

Olive questions, curiosity written all over her face.

“Yeah, no returns. It’s been quiet, to say the least, and certainly less adventurous. Well— ”

I cut myself off, setting the conversation for her to pick up right where I want it to start as the waitress brings our drinks.

“ Well, what girl? Spill. What’s new with you? How has work been? Liam? Tayden? We may be drinking alcohol, but I want all the tea, and I want it hot. I feel like we haven’t caught up in forever.”

Her questions make me laugh because, ding ding, she asked exactly what I set her up to. Pausing, I glare at her tauntingly as our drinks arrive.

“Well, until a few nights ago is what I was going to say until you so rudely interrupted.”

Olive takes her straw between her fingers, lifting it to her lips, taking a sip, glaring at me like a dog in heat with zero patience. “Okay, and?”

“Honestly, O, l don’t even know where to start.

There is so much to catch up on.

First off, Tayden and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.

Honestly, I know why but don’t at the same time, which makes no sense, seeing as how I’m the one who ended things.

You know we’ve gone without speaking many times, but this time just feels so different, so there’s that.

Liam has changed, and I’m not even sure if changed is the right word because maybe I just never saw him before ‘cause, you know, I’m always stuck in my own shit focusing on my own demons.

Work has been a shit show since I dropped Red.

Functioning in that world without her is so foreign.

I am beginning to wonder if she was the bad side of me or if I am.

Maybe there is no good or evil like I thought.

I know damn sure she was a fucking people person.

I’m just a mousy people-pleaser.

I’m way off my game and trying to manage the biggest deal of my career, as you know.

It’s all rather confusing, and for once, I feel more out of control than I have been in years.”

My words shooting out at the speed of light.

“So yous haven’t reached out to Tayden? And he hasn’t messaged you at all? Do you plan to?”

Olive questions.

“I almost did on the way here, but honestly, why? This game we have been playing for years has become exhausting, O. Like, neither of us would blow our lives up, and neither of us actually wants to be together, yet we want to all in the same breath. It’s like this colossal mind fuck of deeply being connected without being connected at all that just fucks with the lives we are trying to lead, you know?”

I am getting more uncomfortable even talking about him.

I so desperately want to reach out, and it kills me not exchanging messages with him.

Still, I’m trying my hardest not to for the sake of Liam and I’s relationship, even more so for my own sanity.

Living two lives all these years and being two different people has become exhausting.

Tayden triggers me.

He is the only connection to the life and memories I’ve tried so desperately to forget.

I haven’t spoken to a single human from my past in years.

He’s the only past I’ve ever granted access to my present in this world.

It complicates things.

Then the whole other part to our dynamic, I haven’t even spoken with him about, nor am I sure I even want to, and it’s just a lot; and I’m tired of a lot.

“Yeah, I mean, you know I get it, Ivy. I’ve been here with you throughout this entire thing since the beginning of our friendship, but to play the devil’s advocate, I think you should reach out to him,”

Olive replies, purposely avoiding eye contact with me.

Ding ding.

Her fake stare-off tells me there is more to tell than what she is.

When will people learn I see it all, fuck, it’s why she’s my only friend, and even in that, I’m gracious with what I let her get away with playing dumb.

I know my trauma response is reading people, and although it has saved me in many ways, it makes it so fucking hard because we all lie.

Learning to let people get away with them is the hard part because it’s always the dumbest shit, never the big shit, which, in itself, is a trauma response becoming more reactive to small things than monumental things because you learned to handle those, but never the small things.

It’s exhausting being a human reader.

Hence why she is my only friend, I only have the capacity to look past so much with one person.

I can’t imagine having to do it more than I already do.

Staring at her, I pause for a moment before speaking.

O never has been one to encourage Tayden and I’s relationship outside of us communicating in hopes of finding an ending to this whole thing.

She looks guilty as fuck, so why does she want me to reach out to him? Instantly, I’m transformed into detective mode.

What is happening in that head of yours, O? You know you are dying to tell me, and even if you aren’t, I will pry it from your lips.

“Well, that’s an interesting statement. You have never been one to want me to reach out to him, so is there something you aren’t telling me?”

I question.

“ I-um-I, no. I just think it’s been years of you holding onto something from your childhood, or rather someone. I think what yous have with Liam is good and solid, as I have said many times before. I just think, um, maybe this time there will be some closure to be found, is all. Anyways, soooo Liam , what’s going on with him? You said something was different.”

And she’s changing the subject. God, she is a terrible liar. Everything she just said is one hundred percent a lie. She may not tell me now, and I’m going to let it slide like I always do, but not forever. No, I will get it out of her before the end of today’s festivities. She’s lucky the waitress just showed up.

“Brown sugar-brined pork chops with a side of mayo?”

“That would be me,”

I state, raising my hand.

“And for you, we have the seared sea scallops.”

The waitress happily describes Olive’s dish as she places it down in front of her.

“Sweet lord, this looks wicked awesome. They never disappoint here, straight banga’s,”

Olive exclaims, both of us foaming at the mouth over these perfectly plated meals. Another thing that makes Lotus—Lotus. Their ever-changing menu, every week offering completely different items, forever evolving.

“So, Liam, what’s different there?”

I call out to the waitress to please bring us another round of drinks, this time subbing my mimosas for a fresh blueberry vodka lemonade, double. I shouldn’t make the switch, considering how unstable I have been lately, but if I’m about to explain to Olive about Liam, I may need to skip the champagne and go for something a little harder.

“Mmmmk, so the Liam conversation requires vodka? Dish,”

Olive taunts.

The eagerness in her face expressing her desire and need for all details.

“Girl, this is not even the time nor place,”

singsongs from my lips, pretending I don’t want to have this conversation, baiting her for us to laugh more so she can get drunk and sing later.

“Bish whisper, come on, now you know I live vicariously through you and your twisted ways. The blushing on your face tells me it’s spicy .”

If there is one thing about me that has never faded in time, it’s that my ability to whisper is nonexistent. I mean seriously, my whisper voice is a human’s normal speaking voice. Scanning the room, trying to see how close the closest human to us is. Luckily, there is nobody directly next to us, so maybe I can swing it.

“Where do I even start, O? So, paraphrasing here, basically, so remember when I texted you that Liam and I had a long conversation about Tayden? Well, after our talk the next morning, he told me he had a surprise for me and took me to the basement where, as you know, he spends most of his time. I assumed just doing man shit or whatever. He wanted to show me some room, but it went left. Anyway, we had one of our Budweiser nights and girl, he laid me out on that fucking pool table like he hasn’t done in a long fucking time. Not once, but twice.”

Her eyes widen as she drags a sip from her drink.

“Girl, yous guys haven’t had a Budweiser night in a long time. Twice? I’m jealous.”

“Twice! Actually, maybe three, I can’t remember,”

I exclaim, my giggles mucking my words.

“Wait a room? Like what kind of room?

“No girl. You’re not tracking. I didn’t see what was behind the door. Budweiser night, pool table, keep up. It was intense. I haven’t seen him that way in a long time. He had his hat backwards and all. Fuck me, was it hot. We danced and had the fucking night of our lives for the first time in a long time, but baby, I didn’t even know that was just a small flicker of what was to come until…” I spill.

“Until what? Wait, that’s not even all?”

“Girl, no. So then yesterday, I woke up before him, and he caught me looking out and thinking about Tayden while doing some questionable things to myself, if you know what I mean. I thought I had gotten away with it until he joined me in the shower. When I tell you he ruined me, I mean that with my entire chest. There were chains he installed in the ceiling, and he forced me to entertain myself while he watched. And then , he fucked the absolute shit out of me three ways to Sunday. It was like someone else took over him, and then that’s not even the weirdest part. He has started calling me ‘little bird’, which I’ve yet to figure out, but obviously, it’s a pet name, so it’s hot, but like, what’s it mean? He basically drowned me while I was chained under bone-chilling water while all this took place, forcing me to tell him ‘I don’t like the cold’. So, he obviously knew who I was thinking about while I was doing what I did. It was a passionate yet terrifying lesson, as he called it.”

I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

At this point, Olive has finished her entire drink, the sounds of her trying to suck out what little is left in the bottom of her cup ringing through the air. Her mouth drops open, and a gasp sucks in across her tongue. She’s speechless and searching for the right words.

“Wait a damn minute, you’re talking about Liam? Sweet, supportive, man of few words, Liam Maddox? There’s no fucking way. You’re fucking with me; yous must be.”

I wish I was fucking with her because I am just as confused as she is, if not more.

I mean, yes.

I always wanted him to have more of a personality, but this? This was not on my 2022 bingo card.

It has confused me so much because although there is that side to me that enjoys the fuck out of this Liam, I feel as though it’s so dangerous in the same.

He is feeding a side of me I have been trying to run from my entire life: the dark, the bad, the intellectually fucked and twisted, sexually freed version of myself.

The part of me I only feed every so often.

The girl who believes fucking is making love.

What happens when that is readily available to me every day? Yes, life with Liam was kind of boring, but boring is good.

I need that in my life for the stability it brings, the balance and the hope that I can be better, be mundane.

The whole good and evil thing O’Connor fed me.

“I wish I were O. I am so confused ‘cause you know me. You know I fought my entire life for normal, to be whole and okay, and convince myself that sex isn’t dirty, that my sexually free desires are normal, but I still run from it, and Liam was that soft landing. Now, my safety net stepped up to the chess board and flipped the entire fucking thing over.”

“Girl, Liam really said, fuck around and find out, huh? Do you think he’s always been like this? Or do you think your actions caused this shift in him?” she asks.

“I’m not sure, but ironic you ask that because I asked myself that exact same thing. The last thing I want is for him to become something he is not, just to please me. I don’t wish what I am on anyone. It’s not easy not being able to commit to someone fully. I know it’s my trauma, but I also know my guilt in my sexual explorative desires isn’t healthy either. Maybe this helps me undo my thoughts surrounding sex and allows me to relearn it as loving, clean, and pure. Not dirty, trashy, and vulgar. I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to be on that journey with me,”

I whisper, my arms across the table, my head low, and leaning in.

“Well girl, I was expecting tea, but that is certainly piping hot tea, and I don’t even know what to say. Have yous spoken to him or asked him about it? You liked it, didn’t you? You dirty bish.”

“Obviously, yeah. I enjoyed the fuck out of it. Hands down the hottest sex I have ever had, well, with him. The water, the sounds, the demands—ugh, hot, but no. I haven’t spoken to him yet about it specifically. I want to. I’m just afraid of the answers, honestly. But I need to. I know that for certain, at least some sort of communication over it all, right?”

Olive reaches her hand over, resting it on top of mine. Looking up at me.

“You need to talk to him. I think you need to talk to them both, Ivy. The music has been playing, you just refuse to listen to it. I fear when it stops, you may notlike the song it lands on.”

She’s not wrong. I am well aware I need to speak to Liam, and I will eventually when I am ready, but Tayden, here she goes again. Why does she keep saying I need to speak with him? What are you hiding, O?

“Anyways, what’s new at the art studio?”

I ask, hoping to rearrange the speaking materials.

“Not much. Winter’s here, so I am getting ready for our winter release. There’s this new artist I am so excited about, Michael Langford, so I figured we’d do a soft opening show for him and see how it goes before we throw him in the winter showcase, which will allow him to sell a few pieces to make room for his new works during the winter show. He’s good, really good, but you know, he’s not Ivy good,”

she replies.

I laugh at her poor attempt to entice me. Here we go again with the ‘Ivy needs to show her work to the world’ conversations in three, two, one… “I’m serious, Ivy. Stop laughing. You said work hasn’t been great since you basically killed Red. Maybe it’s time for a career change or just a career addition. You are good, better than many artists I see who come through my doors looking for their shot. I just wish one day you’d consider showing the world that side of you is all,”

her tongue slick before throwing her hands up, letting me know she’s backing off and letting it go.

“I know, and I hear you. It’s just not something I’m ready to consider at this point, but as always, if I ever do, you will be my first call. After all, I only want the best representing me, and you, my friend, are the best in the world. Who knows, one day I may flatter you, my art wall to wall all across your gallery—just not today. On second thought, maybe I’ll inquire that one off fifty-sixth street,”

I joke, sure to piss her off at the mere mention of her archnemesis.

“You can fuck right off.”

She does have a point though. I’m not sure the office will survive much longer with Red’s disappearance. Real estate is not a world you can hide from. You have to run full force like a raging bull, and that was her strength in me. I’m more of the ‘hide in the corner, hoping the bull doesn’t see me’ kind. Which reminds me, I have so much I need to get done in the study tonight.

“Hey, let’s get out of here, and go hit a few stores. I have to work tonight, and honestly, I’d like to just forget everything going on for a couple of hours and just hang out with my best friend, please,”

I plead with a sad puppy dog look on my face, Iip pouting out and all.

“Yah, Yah, let’s go,”

Olive retorts.

“Oh, and I’m bringing this,”

I gush as I pick up the bottle of champagne left on the table.

Olive swings out of the chair, grabbing her perfectly posh mint green purse, which matches her tailored suit so well, laughs escaping her. “It’s one of those shopping trips, eh?”

Shopping in Cornish is almost as good as eating at Lotus’s.

It’s a quaint town, one of the only towns that reminds me of the South up here.

It has a square in the middle with little shops circling it, and they host all their town events there, like the infamous Apple festival.

Olive and I go in and out of shops laughing and being who we are, children at heart with no concern for our careers or image, drinking out of a champagne bottle like it’s not illegal and just buying all the things we love but don’t need—jewelry, clothes, homemade soaps, crystals, candles, and tinctures.

Most days, I think we pretend to be these self-conscious health concerned women with a splash of witch while we shop in town here.

It certainly has all the shops for it, knowing damn well when we get home and unload the bags, most of what we buy will sit and look pretty, reminding us how much we lack in concern for what we put on our bodies and eventually get thrown away, but the memories make it all worth it.

It’s not like either of us are hurting financially, so what the hell.

Although today has been the mental break that I needed, in the back of my mind, I’ve been thinking about all the things I was hoping girl therapy would distract me from, especially why Olive kept bringing up me needing to reach out to Tayden.

Olive, contrary to her alcohol intake today, certainly doesn’t drink often, which honestly was part of my plan.

The moment I sensed a secret, I knew to just keep the alcohol flowing, hoping I could get her tipsy enough to ask her before we head home.

Speaking of.

“O, I really need to get back home. I don’t want the day to end, but I gotta be responsible Ivy today.”

I giggle, motioning my hands like a robot at my distaste for responsibility.

A sigh draws from her drunken lips, sadness on her face looking at all the bags that encase her arms. “I know. It’s not like I got any more room for things on these arms anyways, and Dax has been blowing up my phone wondering when I’m coming home. I swear that man could never survive without me”

Laughter bursting from our seams. She is not wrong, that man is needy as fuck.

Heading back to our vehicles to load up, anxiety overtakes me, unsure how to bring Tayden up once we get there.

Closing my back hatch, we take a selfie with our empty champagne bottle before discarding it in the bushes. Pulling me in for a hug, Olive begins squeezing me more than normal, words falling from her lips, “I love you, Ivy. I am so proud of who you are, even on the days you are not. Sometimes, I wish you could see how special you are, not tear yourself apart, and accept all the world has molded you into because from where I stand, you’re the most amazing human one could have the honor of loving. You, my friend, are a brilliant woman, and I hope you can learn to love yourself truly the way everyone else loves you one day because you are worthy. Oh my goodness, look at me, a blubbering alcohol mess.”

I lean back against the car, examining her, tears in her eyes forming but not yet falling.

I just stare, unsure of what to say because emotional talks seem so fucking weird.

I am awkward with them. K thanks, don’t be weird, love you too. No, you can’t fucking say that. The words finally come to me as I wipe a tear from her eye.

“Olive, yes, you are emotional when you drink, but let’s be honest. You’re even more emotional when you know something that you aren’t saying because, unlike me, secrets eat at you, and your emotions are worn directly on your sleeve, which is one of the things I love about you the most. Nonetheless, is it the alcohol, or could this be your overwhelmed response to needing to tell me something that I’m assuming is about Tayden?”

I blurt, frustration taking over my words.

Olive looks at me, annoyed and busted. I just hit the nail on the head, and she knows I know it, and I know she knows I know it. The reality of the stillness in our words is, what will happen next?

Come on, Olive. Do what you do best; be honest.

Walking around my car to hers, visibly upset, her arms sway in annoyance in the air, bags swinging as I chase behind her. '

“You know I fucking hate when you do that, Ivy. Analyze me and know what I’m thinking. Just because you can doesn’t mean you always should. Sometimes, maybe I am allowed to have my own secrets. You ever think of that?Do you ever think for a fucking second that maybe I’m not saying anything because I am trying to protect you? Maybe Liam is trying to protect you? Maybe we are all just trying to live in Ivy’s world and tiptoe around you because what happens when you completely lose it affects us all, and we worry if you will ever return to us, and if you do, in what mental state? Will you manage to put the pieces back together again, or will I simply one day have to mourn my best friend, especially now that Red isn’t here to handle the side of you that you specifically created her for to save you from yourself. But no, you are always so caught up in playing the perfect game to even see how your moves affect everyone. I love you. Liam loves you, but fuck Ivy, you can’t psychoanalyze everything all the time. It’s unhealthy, and quite frankly, it’s wicked annoying. Why can’t you ever see deceit or a lie and just let it go? Why can’t you just accept love instead of always needing to chase it and stop and finally fucking enjoy it?”

She demands, screaming at me like never before. My emotions are boiling. Olive has never spoken to me like this before. I’m taken back but also cheering her on at the same time.

Having friends who always agree with me or are afraid to ruffle my feathers or hurt my feelings has been one of the most annoying things God ever gave me.

I love a woman with a voice and passion, although I can’t tell her that in this moment because whatever this is, it’s big, and I’m not even registering her concerns.

I want to know what the fuck she’s not telling me, and I want to know it now. If I have to pry it out of her fucking mouth, I will.

“So, we’re going to act like that tantrum has nothing to do with why you’ve asked me to talk to Tayden multiple times this trip? You want me to just get in my car and go on my merry little way and let it go? You want me to ignore the fact that you basically brought Liam into this secret of whatever it is?”

I ask. Olive exhales, looking away with one arm on her door, the other tossing her keys around.

“I don’t know anymore, Ivy. Honestly, I don’t want to say anything, and you just message the fucking man, for fuck sake.”

Olive begins to open the door to get in. I reach out, grabbing it with my hand, forcing it back open. Thunder cracks as rain pours down me, my breaths heavy, my anger building.

“O, you don’t get to do that, not in the slightest. You asked for this lunch, you kept bringing him up, so even if you didn’t want to say anything, a part of you did, and regardless of how fucking hard this has been for you and Liam and T and everyone involved in my fucked up world, imagine what it is like for me in my own head day in and day out, living with this mind of mine that you claim to be so beautiful, the inability to commit to one human, or love them like a Stepford wife because I’m fucked up and a tortured soul. Yeah, my mind may be brilliant in how I work and in my success, but the reality of my thoughts is completely terrifying, holding me prisoner every fucking day of my life. Never allowing me to form normal connections. Preventing me from the reality you have that you take for granted every fucking day, so either you can tell me what is happening, or you don’t, but if you don’t, you leave here today without me forever. I love you, O, and I don’t want to do that, but I mean it with my whole mother-fucking chest. You choose!”

I scream at the top of my lungs, my hands shaking, my entire body soaking from the rain as I let go of her door, allowing her the moment to either speak or close it.

Olive turns into her seat, staring out her windshield, snapping her head back toward me. She stares with intent and anger.

“He is getting married, Ivy. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew it would break you, and I do love you so much, and I am so fucking sorry. I wanted you to find out from him, not the tabloids, not friends, not anyone but him. But since it is out now, I was hoping you would reach out to him so he could explain it to you in whatever Tayden/Ivy language it is you two speak.”

I stopped listening after the ‘he’s getting married’ part. My brain just completely shut down, and although I know Olive is still speaking, I hear nothing after those three words. I stand frozen in the rain, hot and cold both raging inside of me, crashing into each other like a chemical explosion is about to happen, and my body will splatter into a million pieces. I can feel her shaking me as I stand thoughtless, tears building, craving to fall, but I resist.

“Ivy!”

Olive screams as she vigorously shakes me over and over.

I snap out of it, turning my head to look up at her, a blank stare with no emotion consuming my face. Eerily my gaze on hers in silence, as I turn, tearing my arms from her grip and walk to my car.

“Ivy! Ivy! Ivy!”

she yells, chasing after me, my brain ignoring her in a rage-filled race to my car. Getting in, I slam the door behind me. Olive bangs on the window. Water drips down my face as I sit here with my head tilted back against the headrest. I’m that little girl again, and the ceiling is all my focus can handle, as the walls close in. The side of Olive’s fist crashes into my window, my words trapped in my chest. I am not even mentally in this world anymore. Reel it the fuck in, and get out of here. Come on, you can do it. Start the car. Start the fucking car IVY. Leaning forward, I press the ignition button, my head fiercely turning her way. “Move,”

I snarl like a possessed human.

Olive looks at me, throwing her hands up as she steps away, her long black hair soaking wet, not a dry ounce on her as she watches me back out.

I glance back through my rearview mirror and see her not having moved an inch, with both hands on the top of her head in concern and disbelief, the rain crashing all around her.

Driving at a speed unsafe for anyone, the downpour begins turning the snow to slush, making my speed even that much more dangerous.

Do it.

Fucking do it.

Ram the fucking tree.

It would be considered an accident, an easy way-out, Ives.

Fucking do it; you know you want to.

End this all, end this fucking madness.

No, don’t.

You can fix this , don’t you dare fucking break before you get home.

Focus on the road, not the trees.

Think about it, calm your breaths.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

Make it home.

You have no home, you poor pathetic girl.

Don’t let Liam see you like this.

Keep it the fuck together.

Then, you break safely at home, not in the forest, harming all you leave behind.

You’d be doing them a favor, freeing them of your chaos, do it.

“Shut the fuck up,” I rage.

The rain is turning the roads so dangerous almost as fast as the news Olive just shared.

A fucking bomb is ticking in my head.

The countdown has commenced, and sanity is running thin.

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, my knuckles as white as the snow.

My eyes run a race between the road and the rearview, my self-image spiraling me further from reality.

I fucking hate how weak I am.

She’s a despicable sight.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You are worthless; you knew this would happen.

You were never going to be what he sought out in life, in a partner.

Outside of that little ring box and sex, you’re just a sad little girl still holding on to what could have been all these years and never facing your true reality of who you are, what has become of you, all that’s left of you, a pile of wreckage.

Boo fucking hoo, Ivy didn’t get Tayden.

Dumb bitch, you never even deserved him.

Deep down, you’ve always known.

It’s why, all these years, you never told him how you felt.

You can’t be mad.

You have zero right.

Viciously, my head begins convulsing, trying to extract the thoughts from my mind.

I know they aren’t wrong.

It’s true, all these years, and I never actually came out and told Tayden I wanted a real life with him.

So many missed opportunities to confess what he meant to me, what he is to me, and had been throughout my life even when he wasn’t a part of it.

Instead, always going along with his thoughts on the matter, not that I didn’t agree, but fuck, marriage? This changes everything because knowing Tayden, this is it.

He doesn’t make irrational decisions.

Once he gives himself to her in marriage, to anyone, it’s a promise he’ll never turn his back on.

This is a completely thought-out idea and a perfectly orchestrated plan. Probably one forced by my own words, my own exit.

You pushed him into this the night at the studio.

His decisions are rarely based on his own emotional needs and always on those around him, but that’s what makes this even bigger.

Knowing myself means knowing this is forever for him.

He will never leave her, he will never divorce her, and they will be married for life.

I find a sliver of comfort in knowing he made this decision based on his family, his child, and his desire to be normal himself and have a wife in hopes that one day he will change.

That he will be faithful and not need to tug the strings of all the women he indulges when he needs reassurance of himself.

Because this proposal, I am certain, was based on those facts.

He will never break his promise because although he is weak in his desires, in his thought process, he is not.

His word means everything once it is announced to the world, not hidden behind closed doors.

Image is everything.

Pulling into the driveway, I notice Liam isn’t outside anymore.

I know I need to keep it together.

However, Liam will read right through me no matter what I am like when I walk through those doors.

He has such a knack for spotting my meltdowns, and when something is wrong, he always knows.

Luckily, past record has proven he allows me space and isn’t overbearing, which I love, but fuck, sometimes I wish he would just hold me as I physically melt into his arms, but he won’t.

I have trained him since the beginning that I don’t need anyone.

Getting out of my vehicle, I close the door, quickly racing to the house as the rain falls around me; my boots slosh through the snow, my heart cracking deeper with each step.

Please don’t be in the kitchen when I walk through the door .

Opening the front door, I take a look around seeing no sign of him, a sigh of relief comes over me, I feel the tears starting to build, the meltdown inevitable.

I fight the urge, setting my things on the counter, craving my safe place, my world away from the world—my study.

My buzz is wearing off, and I need to chase its high.

Making my way across the kitchen, I head for the basement door.

Cautious in my movements in hopes I don’t run into Liam heading to the wine cellar, but fuck, I need a bottle; no, I need ten.

Alcohol doesn’t fix things, but at this very moment, I’m convinced it’s the only thing that can fix this.

With each step, I try to maintain a light foot so if he is down here, he won’t hear my footfalls as I tiptoe to my drowning.

My breaths grow louder and my movements steadier.

Ugh, to be a superhero with invisibility.

If there was a time, now is it.

Turning the corner, I look like a damn flamingo awkwardly stepping down the hall, part flamingo, part Grinch.

“That’s it, I’m not going.”

I cover my mouth quickly, realizing I just said it aloud.

You dumbass, really?

“Ivy”

echoes from behind me, my body freezing in place like I’m five and I just got caught trying to steal cookies out of the damn cookie jar.

Turning my head slowly, I meet Liam’s gaze.

He quirks his head to the side, raising his left brow, curious and uncertain of what the actual fuck I am doing.

Nothing to see here, my guy.

It’s all copacetic .

“Liam, um, I uhh, yes?”

Jesus Christ, this is embarrassing. I’m embarrassing. Twenty-nine years old, and I’m sneaking to my wine cellar. There’s your sign. Shut up, no you shut up. He’s talking dingbat.

“What are you doing? Why are you sneaking around like you don’t live here?”

I, um, I… fucking speak, Ivy. Say something, anything.

“You know, that’s a great question.”

“One you have yet to answer Ivy.”

I don’t say anything.

I just look at him, and I can tell by the look on his face, taking in the look on mine and my lack of words; he knows exactly what I am doing, like I have so many times before.

In all of my recklessness, one thing has remained true.

If I am nothing, I am a creature of habit in my chaos.

The words finally form.

“I’m grabbing a bottle and then heading to the studio.”

I fumble over my words.

“Sneaking to the cellar. Ah, you’re not traveling back to the city in the morning, then?”

My heart sinks for him, as I am aware that he is aware that my meltdown is coming.

I remain firm in my silence, turning away from him continuing towards the cellar.

Reaching it, I pull out my go-to bottle of wine for times like these, a perfectly aged Domaine Ramonet Montrachet Grand Cru.

Being rich does have its perks.

Exiting the cellar, I see Liam having not moved a muscle, his shoulder still hugging the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

My eyes beam in on the floor, avoiding all eye contact with him, my anxiety building in his presence.

Scooting past him, his hand reaches up clutching onto my chin, pulling my soul into his as he whispers, “I love you. I am here.”

Letting me go, I travel back up the stairs, my tears now raging like Niagara Falls, as I run like I’m being chased, never glancing back, my strides becoming longer and swifter until I’ve made it to the study.

Slamming the door behind me, I lean up against it, hugging the thousand-dollar bottle of wine.

All my control is completely gone; tears stream down my face as I sink into the floor, my knees in my chest, my answer in this bottle, my cries as vocal as ever.