“Did you end up doing the tarot thing?”
“How did you know about that?” Ivy pauses. Damn it. Before I can string together a white lie, she gives me an out. “Bea must’ve told you…”
Nope. Bea didn’t tell me. Vivian shoots me a look.
Both women give me a tarot reading play-by-play. I know nothing about tarot besides there are cards. They both talk so fast; I’m trying to keep up. Even when Ivy tells me about the Death card, which sounds horrific, she sounds positive. They tell me all the things this Death card could mean, jumping from one theory to the next.
Ivy’s passionate and it makes it fun to listen to her.
“Ah! We also made candles,” Ivy says, as she sorts through a bag and pulls out a mason jar. She opens the lid and puts it in front of me, an invitation to smell. Before I lean down, I know it’s something sweet. I lookat the label and see “Butterscotch Cake” in Ivy’s handwriting.
She and I share a look. It’s quick. But it’s packed with “I know what you did here.” I’m fighting a massive grin.
I order the table another round of drinks and Ivy excuses herself for a bathroom break.
“So, when I checked in, my room was free. Zero dollars. Zilch.” Vivian talks with her hands. “Do you know something about that? Or do I have to find a way to get Ivy to accept money?”
My face flushes. “That was me. No big deal. Really.”
“Same thing with the rental car?” My lack of response is my reply. “Does Ivy know you did that?” Her brows are furrowed. She’s trying to read me.
“No, she doesn’t. I don’t mind if you tell her. She was bummed about your vacation. This was something easy I could do. I’ve comped rooms and cars for much less.”
“No, no. I appreciate it. I don’t need to tell her. It’s not my business.” She lifts her arms up in a “hands-off” gesture.
I lift my beer, tip it to her, and take a swig.
“Does Ivy know you’re the one who came up with the activity list?” My eyes go a little wide. I’m surprised she’s calling me out.
“How did you—”
“I saw your face when she asked about the tarot. It gave you away,” she interrupts with a smug smile showing. “Don’t worry about it. I’m very self-aware and really into body language.” She leans back and crosses her arms.
Busted.
“Not sure why you didn’t bring it to Ivy yourself, but again, it’s not my business.”
I nod at her and then look down at my beer.
“Here’s the thing. Ivy is independent to a fault. She’ll take on too much for almost anyone, even the people who don’t deserve it,” she says, razorsharp. “She’s the queen of spreading herself too thin and making excuses for people falling short.” Her eyes are full of compassion. It’s clear she loves her friend. I’m happy Ivy has someone like this.
It’s also clear she was itching for Ivy to step away, leaving the two of us for whatever this is.
“When she told me how you helped her at the conference and got her away from that creep, I was surprised. It’s hard for her to accept any kind of help, but it seems she’s different with you.”
“It was no big deal—”
She puts a single finger up and I immediately stop talking.
“Don’t interrupt. I don’t need to tell you to treat her with respect because you’ve done that time and time again when you were practically strangers. Just remember, it’s hard for her to let people help her and stick around. The last guy she was with is a cousin of Lucifer himself, I swear. Do with that what you will.”
“Not a big Jack fan, I take it?”
“No fucking way. He always found a way to take things from her. Like she dimmed the light, a little more each day, so he could be brighter. That guy is the worst.”
To the point. Viv’s no bullshit, zero runaround manner makes me like her. My heart tugs thinking about Ivy making herself smaller because of an insecure asshole like Jack. Glad I’ll never meet him.
“All I’m saying is this behavior of hers is a deviation. And deviations from the list and task-oriented Ivy are not to be taken lightly.” She winks at me and takes a drink of her old-fashioned. It’s fitting that she’s a bourbon girl. I should’ve ordered one of those.
