Page 36 of One More Made Up Love Song (Midnight Rush #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Freddie

I can’t decide if I’m frustrated or relieved that after the kiss to rival all kisses, Ivy decides to avoid me. She eventually comes back out to the party, but she stays close to Laney and does her level best to avoid eye contact.

When we get back to the house, she makes a vague comment about being tired and disappears into her bedroom before we have the chance to talk.

I leave for the studio the next morning before she wakes up, and by the time I come home, she’s watching a movie with her sister and doesn’t do more than wave to me from her corner of the couch where she’s burrowed into a nest of blankets.

I’m exhausted after working all day, so I crash before the movie is over.

Which is how I wind up in my kitchen the following morning, nearly thirty-six hours after the kiss, still having not had a conversation with Ivy .

The good news is my time in the studio was very productive. Working with Leo has been amazing, and having Jace and Adam around to lend their expertise has made everything feel easier.

But it’s more than that. This thing with Ivy has woken me up. Broken through whatever logjam was keeping my brain from working—from writing.

The bad news is I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

I shouldn’t be surprised that Ivy thinks we were only doing it because someone was watching. That was the plan. The agreement we made. And maybe I did recognize an entertainment reporter watching us from the edge of the dance floor before we kissed.

But that isn’t why I wanted to kiss her. Or why I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

When she pulled away, the expression on her face looked an awful lot like regret. But then she ran, and I lost the opportunity to talk to her. To ask if I pushed too far. Made her uncomfortable.

She kissed me back. I know she kissed me back, and it felt like she was aware of the same current, the same fire, that I was.

But I can’t be sure I didn’t read everything wrong. That my own desire didn’t cloud my judgment and make me see and sense things that weren’t really there.

And don’t even get me started on the spiral that starts whenever I think about what would happen if Ivy does have feelings for me.

What would it look like?

Would she have to stop working for me? It might not matter, since she’s already planning to leave. But if things didn’t work out, would that mean she wouldn’t be in my life at all?

I don’t know how to quiet the questions. To make any kind of sense of my jumbled thoughts.

I turn my phone face down next to my empty coffee cup and drop my head onto my arms, resting them on the cool kitchen countertop. I didn’t get enough sleep last night, but Leo’s expecting me in the studio again in a couple hours, and I’d like to see Ivy before I go.

I wish I could ask her to come with me, but I already told her she could take some time off to spend with her sister. She’s still been doing a lot—honestly, things would probably fall apart if she didn’t—but she’s doing it from her corner of the house without ever venturing into mine.

I don’t like spending less time together. If we were in a real relationship, we would be spending more time together.

Which is what I want.

I think it’s what I want?

We at least have the movie premiere tonight, so we’ll be together for that. I have all kinds of feelings about the event. I’m excited to see Ivy in the dress she picked out, but I’m also nervous about her getting through the night without too much emotional trauma.

It means a lot that she’s doing this for me. That she’s tackling something personal just to help me, and she’s doing so in an incredibly public way.

My relationship history is woefully underdeveloped, but every woman I’ve dated has also been a celebrity.

Walking the red carpet would just be another day at work for any of them.

But the stakes feel a lot higher with Ivy.

Because she’s Ivy, obviously, but because she also has so much more to lose by being with me .

Either way, I don’t think I can even suggest the possibility when I’m not sure it’s also what she wants.

“You’re up early.”

I lift my head to see Ivy at the foot of the stairs, still in pajamas, her hair pulled back from her face. She looks beautiful, fresh-faced and well-rested, and I’m suddenly grateful she’s taken some time off. We rarely get a full night’s sleep when we’re on the road.

I run a hand through my hair, wishing I’d at least looked in the mirror before stumbling into my kitchen for coffee. “Hey.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says as she moves into the kitchen and pulls a mug out of the cabinet. “Seems like we keep missing each other.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Yesterday was a long day at the studio.”

Ivy moves to the espresso machine at the end of the counter. It’s fancy and expensive, and I still haven’t figured out how to use it, but Ivy has a cappuccino every morning we’re home, so I can’t regret the purchase.

“How has it been?” she asks. “Are you making good progress?”

“Surprisingly good,” I say. “We’re working on several new songs, and I really like them all.”

“I’m sure you’re so relieved,” she says. “Any idea what changed?”

I hold her gaze.

I changed . We kissed outside Margot’s beach house, and something turned over inside my brain.

I’d been stuck, mired in the monotony of touring and traveling, uncertain that I was even living a life I still wanted, and then we kissed and suddenly, there was something else to think about. Something else to feel .

But I’m not sure I can say that yet. Not when I suspect she spent the last day and a half avoiding me.

I shrug my shoulders. “I know better than to question when or why inspiration strikes.” It’s not the full truth, but it isn’t a lie either, so that’s good enough for now. “How’s your time with Carina been?”

Ivy blows on her cappuccino, holding the mug close to her face. “Really good. Better than I expected it to be.”

“So a vacation with Margot was temporary insanity?”

She shrugs. “Or a desperate plea to her family to stop treating her like she’s made out of porcelain. Mom and I both probably need to let her live her life without so much hovering and worrying.”

“I’m sure that’s easier said than done.”

“Do you ever worry about your brother?” she asks, and I immediately scoff.

“No. I really don’t.”

“Why not? He’s younger than you, right?”

“Technically, yes. But he’s the oldest twenty-five-year-old I’ve ever met. He doesn’t need anyone to worry about him.”

She takes a tentative sip of her drink. “Has he finished his PhD yet?”

“Next spring,” I say.

Then he’ll be Dr. Ridgefield just like my parents. A perfectly matched trio of doctorate degrees in mathematics. I couldn’t fit in less if I tried.

“I’m sure your parents will be so proud,” she says, her voice dripping with a disdain that immediately makes me smile.

Ivy is my parents’ worst critic, often grumbling about how little they seem to care about everything I’ve accomplished.

I’m a little more forgiving. If I thought my parents had the capacity to express more enthusiasm, I might expect more.

But they’ve always been exactly how they are. I can’t do anything about that.

I chuckle at Ivy’s comment, but I don’t say anything else, and the silence quickly turns awkward.

We should talk about the kiss, but how do I bring it up? How do I ask her if it meant as much to her as it did to me? My brain pulls up the image of her running away seconds after we kissed, and I force myself to swallow the question.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Ivy asks, and I nod, happy to accept the subject change.

“Are you ?”

She looks up at the ceiling. “Uh, let’s go with yes? I’m nervous, I think. But also a little excited? And I think that must be a good thing.”

“Remember our signal,” I say. “If you need to get out of there, one squeeze on my elbow. That’s all it’ll take.”

She nods, the gratitude in her expression making my heart stretch.

What would it be like to have her look at me like that all the time? To spend every day trying my hardest to make her life easier, better?

Ivy lowers her cup into the sink and backs away from the counter. “I should…” She tilts her head toward the stairs. “Carina and I are going to get pedicures this morning.”

“I hope you have a good time.”

She bites her lip. “So I’ll see you tonight?”

I nod. “Car will be here at seven to pick us up.”

I watch as she nods, then disappears up the stairs.

A part of me thinks tonight can’t get here fast enough. But another part feels like I’m careening toward heartbreak, and I have no idea how to put on the brakes .

Every moment I spend with Ivy, the stakes raise a little bit higher. I’ve been taking risks all my life.

But I’ve never felt like I have this much to lose.

After a few more hours at the studio with Leo, I’m back home and ready to go, pacing the entryway as I wait for Ivy.

Natasha has me in a dressed-down tuxedo, no tie or cummerbund, just a black dress shirt open at the neck, a black jacket, and black pants.

It’s a simpler look than she’d usually style for me, but she said the outfit is a nice complement to Ivy’s dress, so she didn’t get any complaints from me.

Adam and Laney show up in the entryway first, then Jace, who is carrying Eli. He’s brave to carry the baby when he’s already dressed and ready to go, but he doesn’t seem to be worried.

Annie is beside him, something clutched in her hands. She looks up at her dad, and he nods his encouragement. “Go ahead,” he says softly.

To my surprise, Annie walks over to me.

I crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “Hey, Annie,” I say.

She blinks at me with wide blue eyes, a matched set to her dad’s. “I made this for you,” she says, then she holds up a bracelet with chunky red beads. “For you to wear.”

“Tonight?” I say, smiling as I take the bracelet. “Annie, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever worn!” I loop it over my wrist, holding it out for Annie to see. “It makes the whole outfit.”