“Ivy.” Holland sighs in exhaustion.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll turn it off.” This is something I never do. I’ve learned to sleep through the buzzing and screens. It’s like Holland can sense this.
“You’re not working right now. Everything can wait until the morning.”
He’s right. It sounds so plain and obvious, when he says it like that.
I turn it off and place it back in the drawer. My smart watch lightly taps on the table, reminding me that it’s there. I take it off, and put in the drawer, for good measure. Out of sight, out of mind.
When I lay back down, Holland pulls me closer to him. He twirls a piece of my hair as he drifts to sleep. Is there anything more amazing than a man playing with your hair?
I feel so wrapped up in him.
And that’s the last thing I think about before I fall asleep.
The sun wakes me up. I look over to see Holland still asleep next to me. His face looks peaceful. With his perfect lips and long eyelashes.
I give him a kiss on the cheek and he stirs.
When he opens his eyes, a grin pulls at his lips. Again, I’m a puddle. Tears come to my eyes over the smallest of reactions.
It’s like he sincerely wants me. The real me. I was so frantic when we first met, I had no chance to put on my cool-girl-costume. The mask you wear for the first few weeks of dating, to make sure you’re pretty but not like you’re trying too hard, fashionable but making it effortless, and hiding enough of your neurosis to make sure they don’t run in the other direction.
I hate that costume.
Our first interaction was the opposite of the cool-girl-costume. And yet, here he is. In my bed, smiling like I’m exactly what he needs.
Since I’ve been stuck here at the lodge, he’s found ways to cross my path. Goes out of his way to see me. When we’re together, it’s easy. Isn’t that how it should be?
This isn’t lust or instant attraction. I’m falling for a man who doesn’t fit in my plan or my time zone.
What am I going to do?
I try to get out of bed and Holland’s hand lands on my hip to pull me back.
“Not yet,” he groans.
I don’t even protest. Instead, I fall back into bed. I feel my back on his bare chest. For the first time in a while, I feel like I’m needed. Not needed in the sense of a job and productivity but in the way of companionship.
We lay together for a few more minutes. While it’s lovely and I wouldn’t mind doing this every morning, I’m itching to check my phone. It’s a habit—a bad one—but it still exists for the time being.
I take my phone from the drawer and power it on.
Within fifteen seconds, my mood goes from great to complete panic. Missed calls, and texts, start coming in from Royce, Jack, and Stella.
I shoot out of bed and stare at the phone in hand before looking at the clock next to my laptop. It’s after 10 a.m. We slept through the wholemorning.
I forgot about my alarm. My stupid alarm on the stupid piece of technology I can’t seem to function without.
“No, no, no.” I sit down and open my laptop.
“What’s going on?” Holland asks through a stretch.
“I have a bunch of missed calls from work—my boss to be exact. This is bad. I’m on a work trip. They should be able to get a hold of me.” The words fly out of my mouth and the anxiety starts creeping up my entire body.
“Ivy. Take a deep breath. What could they have needed last night?”
“Last night? It’s after ten! Half of the workday is over at the office.”
