Page 6

A Taste of Home

“I’ve never had a home, just two people with whom make me feel as though I imagine it to be, who make me hold onto hope that one day my dreams have the possibility of becoming reality.

A chance at light through all the darkness.”

—Ivy

I ’m suddenly awoken by a jolt. Instantly, my body stiffens as I sit up, unaware of where I am, or my surroundings.

My hand reaches for my racing heart, the beats slowing as I glance to my right and see T sitting next to me.

“Did you sleep well, Amor?”

he asks, his eyes soft.

Something about his tone tells me he is nervous. T is never nervous, causing worry to take over me about what he is getting me into. “I’m—I’m not sure well is the word to describe it,”

Sarcasm on my lips as I wipe the drool from my mouth, my brain foggy, stuck somewhere between where I just was and this moment.

I’m just grateful I am no longer trapped in that nightmare of hell.

Although my reality is not the way I had ever dreamed it to be, it certainly beats my subconscious I just escaped from—memories of the day I left him.

The moments that broke me, the day I was committed—his birthday.

Erased. Lost. Again. Forever. The last day I ever saw him until…

“You were talking in your sleep, Ivy. I wanted to wake you, but I know you needed the rest. Were you having a dream?”

he questions. I look out the window, realizing we are in the middle of fucking nowhere. Avoiding his question, not wanting to go back there, I bury my desire to speak, to tell, like I have all these years changing the subject.

“Where are we, T?”

Closing the space between us, he reaches out, brushing the hair from my face.

“Home, we’re almost home.”

Almost home? We don’t have a home. What in the world has Tayden Bergess done? Hell, we aren’t even together.

Speaking of which, I check my phone, worried Liam has reached out, left with no response.

As much as he tries to give me my space, that man is obsessed, and I love him for it.

Unlocking it—nothing.

Only work email notifications from the office. Attempting to open them, I click, but nothing happens. “Great, no service,”

I sigh, frustrated. Tayden reaches over, grabbing my phone from my hand, placing it inside his jacket pocket. “You won’t be needing this, this weekend. The bars will not come back, Ivy. It’s all part of the grand picture.”

The smirk on his face oozes with a sense of pride in his statement, spoken with intent.

My frustration grows stronger at his secrecy, momentarily scaring me, but I refuse to let him see.

T and I don’t do games other than the ‘I love you, I can’t have you’ one.

Fuck do we love and play that one so perfectly.

Destructively.

Outside of that, we are straight-forward—cutthroat, for lack of a better word.

No matter the consequences, we always just say it like it is.

God, I hate surprises.

I hate lack of control.

After all these years of texts, FaceTime, and calls, I don’t think we’ve ever toyed with one another like he is at this moment.

Like he did in his arrival and this unknown trip.

Over the years, I’ve been blessed with hearing about all his sexual endeavors with all his women outside of his girlfriend, Anastasia.

It’s not easy listening at times, but in a twisted way, it brings me comfort and security in us.

For those women may get his body, but they will never get him the way I do.

I am privy to it all; the good, bad, and ugly.

Him—I get all of him.

His heart, his soul, his mind, his forever.

So what if I haven’t got to experience his beautifully-crafted-by-the-gods cock, that lives rent-free in my phone.

I think that’s what excites us the most—the fact we haven’t crossed that line, ruined the desire, nor succumbed to the urges.

Outside of fairytales and the books I read, in the real world, angst lasts longer than the act, and with us, it feeds us deeper than any one-night stand ever could.

Well, that and it’s me he’s thinking of every time he thrusts himself into yet another faceless woman.

So, hearing the stories, in a fucked-up way, is a version of me living out my fantasies with him without ever giving up the colossal angst that breeds between us.

A way to stay on the edge of the cliff without ever jumping, allowing me to maintain my mental sanity and control.

Satisfied torture, if you will, by two very fucked up humans, who enjoy the darkest parts of one another. The parts that sane humans would call red flags, T and I call green, and we fucking thrive on them.

Treaches over, opening a cabinet off to the side.

The way his pants hug his firm ass sends butterflies shooting through my stomach, the air suddenly being sucked from my lungs and replaced instantaneously.

The things I want this man to do to me are unholy.

I am unsure how I can spend an entire getaway with him without breaking.

I refuse to, and I will not be the first to allow my will to crumble.

If anything, he must first.

Lord knows Red will have my ass if it does.

I can sense her jealousy all the way up here in Maine, just as I felt the morning she filled me in after the night at the Gala what happened between them.

I’m sure she is knocking at my door as we speak.Pulling out a bottle of Champagne, he grabs two glasses, filling them to the brim. “Fuck, Champagne, you read my mind.”

I gasp, leaping to grab the glass from his hand, my mental state parched, needing a resurrection. He lets a chuckle escape him as I spill a bit on the floor in my chaotic urgency.

T lifts his glass to me. “Cheers to our dreams, history, and filling the plot holes in our story.”

I throw a taunting smile his way. “Plot holes, huh?”

We’ve only got one I can think of, and it’s off-limits.”

Throwing the entire glass back, no break between the bubbly liquid and my throat, I reach for the bottle, refilling it when he short circuits my entire body.

“Ivy, if I have it my way, I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop; then I’m going to fuck you again and again until your legs give out. Until your heart feels like your chest is caving in, and your pussy is so swollen that the only remedy to its pain is my tongue.”

Mentally I just bit the fuck out of my fist.

His words send shockwaves to every inch of my flesh.

It’s a whole new world hearing Tayden speak this way to me, mere inches away, verses through a screen like he has all these years.

I feel the heat pooling between my thighs, instantly causing my clit to pulsate to the words that just left his tongue.

Imagining his head between them, I throw my second glass back, knowing damn well alcohol is not the answer to the predicament I am in, but the only lifeline I currently have.

Choking on the last sip, I gasp to catch my breath.

My eyes drifting down between my legs as I throw my fake guard up.

“That sounds like a nice dream, T, but it will take more than words to get this lily pad. I’m not like those other women. I’ve waited my entire life; temptation has no hold on me when it comes to you. Three days? Ha, that’s a fucking walk in the park!”

His jaw instantly clenches as he begins loosening his tie, leaning into me, eager for the challenge. We both know I’m full of shit, but what can I say? If I go down, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“Mark my words, Ivy. It ends this weekend,”

he bites, his breath trailing off my ear.

My body reacts to his threat, unhinged and feral, making me question my capability of maintaining the slightest restraint.

More importantly, keeping true to my pact with Red; that any physical adventures with T are off-limits. The window rolls down from the front, a familiar voice filling the air. “We’re about to pull up, boss.”

“Antonio?”

I press. Why is my driver driving for T? Confusion on my face, I turn to him.

“Yes, Miss Ivy?”

Antonio responds.

“I’m sorry, since when do you drive for T?”

“Since you gave him the week off, and I needed someone we could trust,”

Tayden brutally interjects, pride written on his lips by the chess move he just so eloquently played. If he weren’t so fucking cute in this moment, I’d smack it right off his face.

“So y’all were both in on it this whole time, whatever this is. We will talk about this later, Antonio,”

I joke as if we will ever revisit this conversation.

“Yes ma’am,”

Antonio responds before rolling up the glass separating us and him, a laugh escaping his lungs before my ears are no longer in range.

T scoots closer to me, his hand grabbing mine, interlocking our fingers. “I want you to look out the window with me. It’s important. I want you to take it all in from beginning to end.”

I let go of my frustration with them both. His eyes informing me whatever is going on is important, especially if Antonio is so eagerly willing to go along with it.

Turning to peer out the window, the car stops at a large metal gate, an emblem welded where the two doors meet. It takes me a moment to realize it is a smiley face before they open, now becoming two halves as the motor rotates. Looking at T, I can’t help but just laugh.

“That’s odd. I guess we aren’t the only smiley-face lovers.”

Pulling through, we head down a long gravel road, twisting and turning through the tall pines surrounding us.

Alongside the drive are full-grown honeysuckle plants stretching as far as I can see.

The smell in the air is what I imagine heaven is made of.

I couldn’t have dreamed of a more beautiful entrance in my mind.

A feeling of familiarity hits me, but I can’t put my finger on this feeling or why I have it.

Pulling up to a circle drive, we land in front of the most beautiful black-stained rustic cabin, consisting of multiple pitches, yet as simplistic as one would hope for a weekend getaway.

The turrets placed on each corner draw my eyes in immediately, bringing modern, rustic, and vintage together seamlessly.

Beautiful flower beds surround it, filled with the most beautiful hydrangea bushes; blues, pinks, purples, and whites all melting together like the works of a painting I’d find in Olive’s art studio.

Behind them sits the most stunning porch, which looks as though it is made from reclaimed barn wood.

The kind of porch you hope squeaks a little because it’s been worn by the elements, more importantly, enjoyed by its occupants.

A porch with stories to tell, lessons learned, and memories that last a lifetime. “You ready, Ives?”

he asks, pulling me from my trance of endearment.

Antonio opens the door, allowing T to exit.

Turning around, he reaches his hand out to me, in which I oblige.

It’s so cold.

Instantly, I’m transported back and feel like a kid again, and we are back at S.M.K., making our way to the most beautiful home I have ever seen hand in hand;

he watches me take it in, my words trapped in my chest, forgetting I am in a half damp robe.

I am left completely speechless, holding my childhood love’s hand as I look around, feeling his gaze never leaving my direction in the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“This is the most stunning place I’ve ever seen, Tayden.

Where did you find it? AirBNB?”

I question, my eyes not leaving the beauty before me.

Vines cascade up the walls of the home, wrapping around the trunks of trees turned into columns supporting the tin roof that rests over the entirety of the porch.

Suddenly, I see the holy grail of porches.

A beautiful bed swing hanging off in the corner suspended by the thickest of rope, with the most beautifully embroidered pillows.

I could totally see myself reading a book there, amongst other things.

It reminds me of the bed and breakfast I frequently visit in Cornish.

I feel a squeeze on my hand.

“Something like that. You want to see the rest of it?” he asks.

Looking up at him, like a kid meeting Santa Claus at the mall for the first time, I mutter, “Yes, Yes Please!”

I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, but for once, I am just trying to take it all in and enjoy the moment, completely throwing all logic out the window. Guiding me to the side of the house, Tayden points off into the distance, his smile ear to ear. “Look!”

he exclaims. Following his direction, I glance over to see the most beautiful pond, or should I say a small lake, with nothing but trees surrounding it, including maples, birch, and oaks whose leaves will be painted in the most beautiful colors by little fairies come fall. A singular dock sits off in the distance, accompanied by a small boat swaying with the wind. A wooden platform rests in the middle with furniture I can’t quite make out. “I… I just don’t even have words, T. It’s everything I ever dreamed a cabin should have and be.”

“I know, Ives. Trust me, I know.”

His tone, velvety and sincere. Wrapping his arms around me, he encases my face in his hands before pulling away, planting a kiss on my forehead.

“Let’s go inside and see if the pictures do the real thing justice, shall we?”

Following me, we head for the doorway when my feet freeze before it, looking back at him, then back to the masterpiece in front of me.

The door is red.

Getting closer, it’s not just an ordinary door; no, it’s more than that.

It has what appears to be honeysuckles hand carved throughout its entirety, mixed with dainty skulls and smiley faces with ivy running through them.

Confused, I stutter in my words, “I… I have always wanted a red door. Come look at this, T. The engravings are stunning. It’s like I was meant to come here. I’d say fate is to blame, but I am certain it is you who brought me here, not fate.”

His hand brushes across his face, pulling on his lips, looking for words.

“Amor, fate is all we have ever been; purpose is what we are trying to find, and I hope behind that door, peace becomes a place you visit frequently.”

Tears sting at the back of my eyes, his words crashing into the depths of my soul.

Peace is not a place I frequent often, nor have I really ever truly grasped, but I could certainly find it here for the next few days.Cracking the door, he leads me in.

Instantly, my emotions spiral in so many directions, and I am further overwhelmed, if that’s even possible.

The architecture in this home is stunning, like it was pulled straight from my dreams.

Reclaimed timber beams float above us from the living room to the kitchen, engraved with something I can’t quite make out, adding to the rustic feel of the home.

The kitchen counters are made from butcher block with a deep farmhouse sink that sits off the back wall.

A large bay window overlooks the back of the property onto the pond.

To the left is the mother of all stoves, a fully restored vintage Glenwood. My laughs escape me due to lack of words. “What the actual fuck?”

My hands weaved in my messy bun, turning to Tayden, “Whoever built this is a fucking genius and has exquisite taste. I… I have nothing.”

Rushing over to him, I throw my arms around his neck, rocking back and forth as I continue glancing around. Looking up, my eyes find his.

“I never want to leave this place. It is everything , the perfect piece of solitude.”

“Come here. I want to show you something else I think you may just love. When I saw it in the photos, I just knew I had to bring you here.”

Hesitantly, I follow him like I did as a kid through the darkness of the laser lights, and we are on our first date again, getaway or whatever.

That’s when it hits me that we are.

In all of our years together, in our own way, we have never been in one another’s presence physically since we were kids besides well-yeah…I don’t even want to think about that night right now.

Dragging me to yet another room, he covers my eyes from behind, directing me where he desires me to be before we come to a stop.

“Ready? You may fucking hate it, but here goes nothing,”

he taunts. “One…two…three…”

Opening my eyes, before me, one with the master bedroom, sits a beautiful antique claw foot tub on a reclaimed wood pedestal with fully glass exterior walls reaching from the bottom of the floor all the way up, connecting to the highest pitch of the roof seamlessly.

Plants completely cover the floors all around, their vines laced way up to the tip of the ceiling.

Ivy and wisteria plants trail down from the ceiling, hanging over the antique tub.

Three large, tall candle chandeliers peer up through the greenery. It’s something out of a movie. For the next three days, I will certainly be the Belle of this home.

“It’s unreal, isn’t it?”

Hand over my mouth, I turn to him, my brain struggling to keep up with my lips.

“T, I want this place. No, scratch, that I need this place. This home is me!”

Pausing as I look around in complete disbelief, I continue, “I’m in real estate, for fuck’s sake.

How was I never aware of this property? I need to know everything about it.

There’s Wi-Fi here, right? I need to get on the computer A.S.A.P.

and pull everything on the MLS and history of this property. T, I want to buy it. Is that crazy? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have the money for it.”

I chuckle in hysteria, his eyes rolling with pride. “God, I love you, Ivy.”

Pulling me in, our eyes lock. “I love you too, T.”Every part of me wants him to kiss me right here and now in the magic of this home; instead, I get a slap on my ass followed by, “I got one more thing to show you. Follow if you dare,”

he taunts.

“Oh lord, what’s next, a sex dungeon?”

I joke, although, I mean, would that be a terrible thing? My desire to undress this man and explore his body like I’ve had the honor of doing to his mind all these years is unmatched, especially here right now, in this moment, in this majestical place.

“Better, Mi Amor.”

“Well, call me a good girl and sign me up, sir.”

“Is that an invitation?” he snaps.

“Nice try, but no. However, this is an invitation to snag me a drink before we continue?”

My sad puppy dog eyes on full display. Unable to resist, in a moment’s time, I’m all alone, taking in all the architectural details as he leaves me to grab us a drink.

Every inch is full of details that I personally understand and would create myself.

More than buying this home, I need to hunt down the architect, builder, and designer because I needed them in Boston ten years ago.

This type of talent can’t exist without access to them for our clients.

“Apple cider mimosa with a maple syrup and a cinnamon sugar brim.”

“Wow, I’m impressed; all the ingredients of my favorite drink are not only stocked but chilled. Impressive.”

I tease, taking a sip.

“Lead the way, man of new mystery.”

Being around T always turns me into a ball of nerves.

I’ve never quite put my finger on exactly why.

The best I’ve come up with is my lack of confidence in being good enough for all the man he is and isn’t in my brain.

My words tend to fall short around him.

My sentences become broken, while my remarkable sense of humor constantly attempts to mask it all.

There have been times in my world when my sense of humor is all that allows others to connect to me, when in reality, it is merely my shield, my weapon if you will, to revert others from truly desiring to know me.

The mask of Ivy Sage Rutledge.

Following behind him, we head down a hall back towards the front of the house, stopping in front of a shelf covered in old Dickens and Shakespeare books alongside other vintage titles I love.

Looking back at me pulling one down, the sound of gears churning fills the room as the door opens.

Stepping in, a cylindrical room welcomes us.

Red velvet covers the walls that peek through from behind the black bookshelves lining the entirety of the room from top to bottom.

Three vintage black chandeliers suspended from the tip of the ceiling at different lengths directly over a large bed suspended by cast iron chains with red ivy weaved through them.

The base of the bed is red, contrasting the black floors eloquently, with black velvet coverings and alternating red and black pillows gathered at the center.

Every shelf is covered with thousands of books, not a single spot left empty as far as I can see.

“This is fucking beautiful. I feel like I keep saying that, but at what point does it stop?”

I laugh, twirling in a circle like I’m a princess, and this is my kingdom, taking it all in. “How does one even get up there?”

I point to the ceiling when it hits me straight in the gut.

A version I have never seen of the Sistine Chapel covers the ceiling’s peak with gold accents.

One side is so fucking dark and sinister, transitioning seamlessly into light and love, like how I remember seeing it all those years ago.

It’s breathtaking, a beautiful twist.

“Look behind you.”

He gestures toward the most beautiful gold spiral staircase I hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m fully convinced whoever designed this, Beauty and the Beast was the first dark romance they fell in love with.”

Taking a sip of my drink, I begin climbing the stairs, his footfalls behind me.

The scent of vanilla and leather fills my nostrils, creating images of him and I on that bed, doing more than reading, into my inner thoughts, starting a war between logic and desire.

My body is telling me that desire is winning.

Reaching the top, I look around, trying to figure out how it moves.

At the risk of sounding like a dumb blonde, I just ask, “How does it move?”

Reaching across me, his breath warm on my neck, he presses a button, engaging the staircase.

The gears begin turning, and we are merely a breath in the air floating through heaven.

Making our way around, I press it again, bringing us to a stop.

Looking out, I start reading the titles in front of me, familiar to the ones I have in my home.

Authors of the likes of Dyan Layne, Dani Antoinette, Shae Ruby, D.

Vessa, Jescie Hall, J.D.

Midnight, S.J.

Ryder and many, many more.

Looking back at him, something feels off.

I feel sick, like I am going to pass out.

Memories trickle in, and something tells me he isn’t telling the whole story of this trip.

“Tayden, I own all of these.

In fact, I think I dreamed of this place once.

Am I losing my mind?”

“You’re not crazy, see that book over there, the one with the yellow spine?”

He points across the room.

“Yeah.”

“Go to it, Amor.”

Moving us across the room, we reach the book he just spoke of.

Tossing back the rest of my drink, I set it down on the platform, gently pulling the book from its respective home.

The spine is nameless; just a simple smiley face graces the bottom of it.

I shoot him a side eye, opening the cover, turning to page one.

Ivy,

Our relationship is unmatched and misunderstood by many, and I fear the resolve we both seek may never be achieved.

I have told you our entire lives, since we were kids, there has been something between us, something even our minds have struggled with how to understand.

Regardless of time or distance, our relationships have never phased nor tarnished our connection.

I have and will always love you to my core, Ivy Sage Rutledge; nothing can ever change that.

We live very tormented lives loving one another the way we do.

We agonize over a situation I feel like most in the world never get to understand or experience.

We are both so unequivocally in love with each other that, in reality, torments us, and we complain about it while others never get a taste of it.

It’s wild to think something so beautiful at times can make us so sad.

Something others would leap for, we run from.

Do we love torture? Or just torturing each other? I truly wish we had been able to really connect and had the maturity a long time ago to realize all we know now, and talk about it, to act on how we really felt and continue to feel.

It saddens me that as time goes on, we don’t have the opportunities that we would have had, say seven years ago if we had just told each other.

However, I am so happy that we talk more about it each day, even if it is via text, so we can continue to be as open and connected with each other as possible for the rest of our lives.

I love that you love me unconditionally in all my shit.

Ivy, I want you to know that I love you with all of me forever and always.

We once had a conversation about thinking about each other as we walk down the aisle to marry another.

We’ve made it clear there will never be a wedding for either of us where we are not walking towards someone else thinking and wishing it was the other.

As fucked up as that is, it’s what and who we are.

We settle for others, extinguishing our own desires.

I wish either of us could understand why we can’t be together, but what I do know is loving you is so goddamn easy, and I can’t ever imagine my heart where you don’t exist at the center of it.

I like to believe we are better humans for not choosing each other in this world, for the harm it would bring to those in our lives is something I know we both would struggle with.

More so, we both have admitted that we feel it would ruin us.

But on those days and nights when I am unable to express my feelings the way you wish I would or times when you feel I am too busy, just know I am listening.

I hear you.

I understand you mostly, as you do me, which can be terrifying at times for a man like me.

More than anything, I want you to have everything you’ve ever desired, even if it can’t be me. So, with that said, this book includes every text conversation we have ever had, and I’d like the first one to be out of order.

Tayden: Good morning, love. The thought of you in bed naked, waiting for me, is like the stuff my dreams (possibly wet dreams) are made of. .

Ivy: If only our wet dreams were a reality, we’d be sleeping less and fucking more.

I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to you bending me over this conference desk right now.

As far as your question last night, my dream home? Goodness babe, that’s deep.

I’ve never really thought about it.

I’d imagine it’s everything I would love, and you would hate lol.

Let’s see, straight off the dome.

-Rustic cabin meets contemporary architecture with a vintage spin.

-Wrap-around porch, oh and trees as the supports for the roof, I love the way that looks. Like a little fairy porch.

-Tin roof, so I can hear the rain while I snuggle up with a cozy book, sipping on an apple cider mimosa with you waiting for me in bed—ha had to slide that in here.

-Twinkling glass lights that line the porch all around, that looks off in the distance onto a small pond.

-Secluded, no neighbors, tons of acreage.

-I’d love a terrarium-like bathroom with tons of plants and candles, a vintage clawfoot tub a must.

-A red door, not plain, something with depth to it, character, you know. The door is one of the most important staple pieces of a home.

-A library is a must filled with all my favorite literature, mostly smut, but hey, no judgment lol. I got issues. But also, the classics I love so much too. Oh, a sliding ladder so I can be my own Belle.Def a Sistine Chapel vibe on the ceiling.

-Maybe Koi fishponds somewhere, and a lower deck out back with a three-season room, so I could work and read when the snow falls but still be one with nature, filled with exotic plants that surely my black thumb would grant a slow death.

-Vintage stove in the kitchen, and honestly, just lots of windows all around.

-Oh, and you know those things in Victorian homes, the cylinder rooms, I think they call them turrets, must have turrets.

- A parlor because everyone should have a fully stocked vintage parlor with vintage glass decanters, a poker table, and a miniature stage for guest entertainment, low-hanging glass chandeliers, and a custom-made wood bar.

Anyways T, I have to run. I have clients walking in any minute. Love you so big; it was fun dreaming with you for a moment. Send me something spicy to destress with later, and make sure the sound is left on. .Xoxo, Ives

Tayden: Never thought about it, huh? Go murder those big corporate men, like I’d be doing to your pussy if you weren’t 1,200 miles away. I love you forever, Ivy Sage Rutledge.

You can’t give me my happily ever after, nor can I give you yours; timing was never on our side.

However, I wanted you to finally have a home, something I’ve come to learn you have never had and craved more than any success you’ve ever accomplished.

I know you would trade all your worldly possessions and career achievements you’ve made to find your home, filled with everything you love, that when your thoughts knock you down, you can come to and decompress, a place that is only yours.

I wish it came with me walking through that beautiful red door every evening.

Nonetheless, it is a token of my unequivocal love and understanding for you.

I know you have been waiting a long time to hear this, Mi Amor, but welcome home, Ivy Sage.

Welcome to peace.

I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge.