He's here.
My heart does a traitorous double-backflip. Why is he here? He wasn't supposed to be back until Monday.
I push the door open.
Brooks is sitting on the patio, visible through the open French doors. He's out of his suit, wearing jeans and a soft grey T-shirt that hugs his arms. He's barefoot. He has a glass of wine in his hand, but he isn't drinking it. He's staring out at the darkening garden.
He hears the door and turns.
Our eyes meet across the room.
He doesn't look like the Venture Capitalist. He looks... anxious.
"You're back," I say, stepping inside and closing the door. "I thought you were celebrating."
"I didn't feel like celebrating," he says. He stands up and walks into the living room. "Not in the city, anyway."
He stops by the small kitchen table. There is a manila envelope sitting in the center of it. It looks thick. Official.
"I brought you something," he says.
I look at the envelope. A cold dread settles in my stomach.
"Is it the schedule for Monday?" I ask. "I already finished the seating chart with your mom."
"No," Brooks says. "It's not a schedule."
He gestures for me to open it.
I walk over. My hands are shaking as I pick up the envelope. I undo the clasp and slide the papers out.
The first thing I see is a check.
It is made out to Ever After, Inc.
The amount is five hundred thousand dollars.
I gasp, nearly dropping the paper. "Brooks. This... this is too much. The deal was fifty and to a charity."
"I changed the terms," he says. "Keep it. Donate it. It's yours to do with as you see fit."
I look at the document behind the check.
Release of Liability. Waiver of Claims.
It is signed. Dated today. Not Monday. Today.
"I don't understand," I whisper, looking up at him. "It's Friday. The contract says Labor Day. You need me for the party."
"I don't need a hostage for the party," Brooks says.
He walks around the table until he is standing right in front of me. He doesn't touch me, but his presence wraps around me.
"You're free, Ivy," he says. "Right now. You can take that check, pack your bag, and leave tonight. You don't have to stay for the party. You don't have to pretend for my mother. No lawsuit. No blackmail. You are completely, legally free."
I stare at him. "Why?"
"Because I hated myself this morning," he admits. "I looked at the security feed, and I saw you crying by the pool."
