But where didshefit into the equation? And what about the potential lawsuit he faced for bailing? Marsha wasn't exactly the vindictive type, but she was known to get what she wanted one way or another, and she wasn’t above getting her hands dirty.
If only Nancy hadn’t sent those files to Marsha, if only Ivy hadn’t sent them to the company cloud back on that snowy day, she and Easton might have really stood a chance.
Was she just fooling herself to believe he would ever be able to fall in love? Not just in love in general, which seemed a great enough feat in itself, but in love withher. That, among all the madness of the last few days, seemed impossible to her now. One could only suspend disbelief for so long before it all came crashing down.
And as Ivy thought back on the time she’d spent with him, whether wrapped in his embrace, dancing about the yurt, or enjoying his passionate kiss, she was glad she had the memories to cherish.
She tugged open her desk drawer and retrieved one of the ornaments he’d made. While preparing to leave the yurt, they’d decided to divide the handmade ornaments in two, each taking half. Ivy had scattered them about, hanging one of the twig crosses he’d made on her rearview, and another on her bedpost. Between the rooms in her house, the drawers in her desk, and her car’s glovebox and mirror, she was greeted several times a day with the lovely trinkets that put a smile on her face and a skip in the beat of her heart.
But over the last few days, the items seemed to haunt her instead. To remind her of what she’dalmosthad.
A buzz came from her desk phone, and Ivy wasted no time snatching it up. “Hello?”
“I need to pick your brain about Easton,” Marsha said. “The media’s buzzing about it, and I need answers.”
Oh, great. The media?
“Come up to my office, please.”
Ivy straightened up.“Okay.” A burst of encouragement pushed through her. Perhaps Marsha was looking for a way to let Easton out of his contract. Perhaps he’d gotten in touch with them. She hurried to her feet and headed toward the elevators. She was halfway to Marsha’s office before she realized she’d left her phone behind.
An irrational sense of fear took over at the thought of missing a call from Easton.Stop it, Ivy. You’re probably the last person he’d call right now.
The sad truth of that statement made her eyes sting. It made her heart feel like it was bleeding suddenly, from a very raw and aching gash. Had she ever really had a chance with Easton? And if so, were those chances as squashed as she believed they were?
Marsha stood next to her open door, moving aside to let Ivy enter as she arrived.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, voice even and calm. The woman motioned for Ivy to take a seat.
She did, watching as Marsha walked to the front of her desk and leaned against it, arms folded over her chest. The woman surveyed her for a moment before speaking up.
“I talked with Chantelle again this afternoon. She told me that Easton confided in her before the crew showed up.” Marsha snatched a stapled stack of papers off her desk, flipped a few pages, and stared at the image beneath—a close up of Easton.
Oh man.Ivy hadn’t seen his face since they’d said goodbye. In her mind, yes, but in print, right before her eyes…
Ivy couldn’t take it. She clenched her eyes shut and dropped her gaze to the floor, but it was too late. All she could see was his head shot—no doubt provided by Chantelle. An outdoor photo, of course, where Easton was in his true form. He wore a navy blue shirt. She hadn’t seen that color on him yet. In the photo, it did wonderful things for his olive skin tone.
The smile, on the other hand, she’d witnessed that several times. Soft chimes of Christmas music played out in her mind. She could see that very smile, beaming and wide as he danced with her in the firelight, the scent of pine heavy in the air.
Ivy’s hands shot to her face as an emotional blizzard tore through her. Her lip quivered as she fought to hold it back. Fought, and failed.
The welled-up tears trickled down her cheeks. There was nowhere else for them to go. And the pent-up sobs, to her absolute horror, broke free. That one glimpse of his photo unleashing all of the heartache and lost hope she’d had trapped in her five-and-a-half-foot frame.
“I’m sorry,” she managed through the tears. “I just haven’t seen him since we said goodbye. And that face…” She shook her head.
“Itisquite the face,” Marsha agreed. “In a way, this is his own fault. If he didn’t have such a ridiculous appeal, I might have let him out of his contract.”
Ivy laughed from the comment, then broke into tears again.
Marsha nudged her arm with a tissue box. “Here,” she said, “you might not know this about me, but I’m a romantic at heart. My drive for success on these shows is not all about the money and ratings. But without those things, we don’t have much of a show, do we?”
Ivy snatched two tissues from the box and blew her nose into one of them. “I’ve got to get myself together,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve cried like this in front of anyone in my entire life. Not since I was a little kid anyway.” She’d been teased by her siblings for crying—a fact that had taught her to choke back tears at a young age.
“Listen, Ivy. I took an early liking to you because you’re a hard worker, and you seemed to respect these productions, which are often dismissed as silly or irrelevant. I’d like to give you a second chance.”
Ivy glanced up in surprise and sniffed. “You would?”
“I’d also like to present an offer to Easton. But I can’t do that until I know what happened between the two of you.” Marsha chuckled wryly. “I don’t needallof the little details, of course, but if I’m going to consider giving Easton a way out, and if I’m going to excuseyourpart in the matter, I need to get the gist. It will help me combat any tabloid gossip as well.”
