“I mean… it’s just…” Truly a terrible start. “Look. I’ve never been good at this.” I alternate between looking around and at Ivy. “Sharing. Talking about what I feel or whatever...”
“Holland, it’s okay—” Ivy is trying to spare me but I won’t let her. She deserves this.
“No, I want to try.” My voice almost sounds like I’m pleading. Hell, maybe I am. “I think it’s weird how I can look at you and feel this way. It’s overwhelming… I’m fucking sad I’ll wake up in my bed tomorrow and you won’t be in it. But on the other hand, I’m so grateful and excited. This isn’t the end, Ivy. You and I both know it.”
Ivy falls back into my chest and squeezes. She says nothing but I can feel her shake with tears.
“I feel more like myself than I have in years and it’s because of you.” My voice cracks and a tear falls. I’m not embarrassed to be crying.
“Holland, stop—” Ivy tries to jump in.
“And I know you’re terrible with fucking compliments, but I need to say this. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re brave. Resilient. A fucking force of nature… even though you sort ofhatenature.” We both scoff. Ivy wipes at her eyes.
“I can’t wait to read menus before we go to restaurants, spray our sheets with whatever helps you sleep, wander around bookstores, compulsively check the weather app before we do anything outdoors, and find as many treats as possible. Thank you for making me love you.”
Instead of responding, Ivy looks at me. The woman of my dreamswho I didn’t know existed. The person who cracked the dark shell that’s been around me. She’s brought me back. And I don’t care that it’s only been a couple of weeks, because I love her.
I didn’t fit in her original plan, and I threw out my own play book years ago. But here we are.
She puts her lips on mine and I pick her up. Ivy wraps her legs around my waist and her hands are in my hair, on my face, everywhere. We kiss like no one is watching because that’s how it feels.
And I fucking love it.
Slate howls like he hasn’t been fed. He startles everyone, including us. The dog can’t handle not being the center of attention. I set Ivy down and we stand on each side of the most spoiled dog on the planet. Both of us pet him.
A stranger approaches, I assume to comment on Slate.
“I don’t mean to intrude, but would you like a picture of the three of you?” she offers.
Ivy looks at me with her red-rimmed eyes but with a smile on her face before giving the woman her phone.
We stand on each side of Slate. I take my pinky and reach for Ivy. We make a pinky swear as the woman takes a few pictures.
“I love you, Holland,” Ivy says to me, with Slate’s head in the way.
I pull our pinky swear up and leave a kiss on her hand. Color floods her cheeks and it makes me weak. People around us whistle and clap like the end of a romantic comedy.
And you know what?
Who cares?
Because I’ve got the girl.
Chapter Fifty-Five
ONE MONTH LATER
I fumble the keys to my apartment. My hands are full with my yoga mat, takeout, and gym bag.
I’ve been trying to get to a yoga class at least once a week, but it seems I can only convince myself if it ends with the spiciest Indian food from my favorite restaurant down the block.
It’s called balance.
There’s also nothing more humbling than a yoga class. I need positive reinforcement.
I’ve been back in my apartment for a month. Leaving Holland and Slate was difficult, even though I knew it was coming. I glance at my fridge to see the picture of the three of us. I think this is the first picture I’ve had printed in years but it captured such a sweet moment. I couldn’t help it.
The day I decided to go back to Sparks, I filed charges against Royce. It was delayed but there was enough video evidence to make it quick. I made myself physically sick before but I knew it was the right thing to do. I owed it to myself—and to every person Royce encountered—to speak out about what happened to me.
