Last night, Gil and Emily had taken her in, and it would be so easy to pretend they’d forgiven her. Today would be different. Today she would apologize. Today she would attempt to explain her actions. Today she would go home. Alone.
Twenty minutes later, teeth brushed and dressed in the extra clothes Gil had packed for her the night before, she stepped into the kitchen.
Gil and Emily turned to her in an identical movement that forced a grin Ivy could feel stretching across her face.
Gil tilted his head, assessing her, his eyes holding warmth, compassion, friendship, and something else Ivy didn’t know what to do with. “Morning.”
Emily’s eyes, so like her twin’s, sparked with excitement, but when she spoke, her tone was controlled. “Are you a coffee drinker? Tea? Cherry Coke?”
“Coffee, please.”
“How do you take it?” This from Gil.
“Black is fine.”
Emily grimaced. “Sure, it’s fine, but is that how you drink it at home?”
Gil grabbed a mug. “Em, not everyone drinks creamer with a splash of coffee.”
Ivy hadn’t realized how tense she was until she lowered her shoulders several inches and took a deep breath while her old friends bantered.
Watching them, a deep knowing settled in her mind and heart. She didn’t just want to stay in touch or make amends. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted back in. She wanted Emily to drag her on shopping trips. And she wanted Gil to be everything he’d been to her before.
Whoa. Hold up.
For all she knew, he had a girlfriend. A fiancée.
Even if he didn’t, she’d had her chance. She’d lost him. She might be able to get him back as a friend, but even that was more than she deserved. Getting him back as more? Not going to happen.
Emily turned her attention back to Ivy. “Seriously, how do you drink it at home?”
No point in lying. “Hazelnut creamer.”
Gil dropped his head. Emily crowed in delight. “Me too!”
Gil opened the fridge and waved a hand to the door, where three bottles of hazelnut creamer held a place of prominence. “Lucky for you, Em came prepared.”
“You brought three bottles of creamer for the weekend?” Ivy laughed despite herself as she settled onto the barstool beside Emily and across from Gil.
Gil set a bottle of creamer and a cup of coffee in front of her. “Do you put anything else in it?” His voice was something she knew she had not remembered accurately. It was deep and almost musical while still completely masculine.
“No. This is great.” She poured a healthy slosh into her mug and took a sip. “Perfect. Thank you.”
Gil acknowledged her remark with a wink and turned to the stove. “Buttercup, I hope you aren’t vegan.”
“Are you kidding? Bacon is my best friend.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, then to the ceiling and stage-whispered, “Thank you.”
After that, breakfast was easy. Like they’d known each other their whole lives. Which they had. Not like they’d been separated for fifteen years. Which they had.
The bacon was perfect, as were the scrambled eggs, toast made from a loaf of homemade bread, the fresh pineapple and berries, and of course, more coffee. They ate and caught up, skirting the big questions and focusing on safe topics.
Emily, it turned out, was a physical therapist and worked in DC. Her practice was unique in the sense that she and her partners all had security clearances and were the preferred physical therapy provider for high-ranking members of Congress, Cabinet members, and, most recently, a Supreme Court justice. Emily hadn’toffered any of that information, but Gil shared it on her behalf and didn’t try to hide how proud he was of his sister.
“What made you interested in physical therapy?” Ivy took a bite of toast but almost choked on it when the room crackled with unexpected tension. Emily looked at Gil. He shrugged, and they communicated in the wordless way twins sometimes did.
“I was injured,” Gil said. “Fall of my senior year.”
