CHAPTER TWELVE
“Boyfriend?! You had reconciled yourself to never seeing him again and now he’s yourboyfriend?”
I spin around in my desk chair a couple times before stopping to look at Ivy. That’s basically how I’ve felt for the last two weeks: like I’m spinning. I’ve been on a merry-go-round of emotions—highsandlows—and I’ve reached the point where I’m just holding on and doing my best to enjoy the ride.
“Yes.” It’s just one word, but saying it makes me giddy. I’m still getting used to the idea ofhavinga boyfriend, let alone saying it out loud. When Kieran and I agreed to be all in, we skipped the traditional dating phase and headed straight to relationship status. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of work, writing travel articles, spending time with Kieran, and trying to keep up with my other relationships. I don’t know how people do this and stay sane.
“Well, when did this happen? And how?” Ivy’s voice is pitched high in a combination of surprise and excitement. She’s sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk, leaning forward and watching me with wide eyes. Any talk about romance has always been Ivy’s personal crack; our friend Bridget and I always say she becomes the embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji whenever anyone talks about love or anything remotely romantic.
“Uh, well…about two weeks ago?” I say slowly, cringing. I’m not the only one who’s been busy the last few weeks. Ivy and I see each other nearly every day, but our conversations have mostly been limited to work-related topics. I had planned to ask her out for coffee and a catch-up after Piper’s last book club meeting, but she wasn’t there.
If possible, Ivy’s eyes are now even wider. “T-two…?”
“I know! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We’ve only had snippets of time together lately and it was too much to tell you as I was flying in and out of your office or we were passing each other after meetings.”
Ivy sighs and flops back in her seat. Her body goes boneless, arms hanging limply over the sides of her chair, and head dropped back so she’s staring at the ceiling. I’m about to rise from my chair when she straightens, shaking her head slightly. “Do you ever feel like being an adult is the hardest fucking thing in the world?”
Surprised by the non-sequitur, I sputter out a laugh. “Um, yeah? All the time, especially lately.” I narrow my eyes, searching her face for something I might have missed the last few weeks. She looks great, though. Amazing, in fact. I’ve taken to pretty much spackling concealor on the dark circles under my eyes, but Ivy looks fresh faced and well rested. She’s…glowing. My mind screeches to a halt and rewinds to our last proper conversation, sitting in Pied Piper’s Books and talking about Ivy’s pregnancy scare. “Is everything okay?” I ask in a measured tone.
“Yeah, fine.” She crosses her legs and leans forward, tapping her knuckles on my desk. “But we’re talking aboutyou. I want to hear about Kieran.”
I wait a few beats. When she continues peering at me expectantly, I give in, although I silently vow to get more information out of her later. I start from my unexpected encounter with Kieran in the Loyola cafeteria, and tell her about the last two weeks. How we’ve divided our time between his place and mine, the Loyola cafeteria, and dates at Connelly’s and Luigi’s. How he makes me feel seen and special and safe. How I’m falling for himreallyfast and trying hard to allow myself to be happy.
What Idon’ttell her about is the ups and downs I’m still experiencing. The number of times I’ve cried on Kieran’s shoulder because I miss my mom, and no matter how much I love being with Kieran, the contentment doesn’t quite fill the black hole inside me. Padding the rest of my free time with work is like putting a patch on a gaping void. Still, despite the fact I’m exhausted, staying busy is the only thing keeping me relatively sane. I work myself so hard that by the time I get into bed, I almost always fall asleep instantly. The alternative—lying awake with nothing but my racing mind keeping me company—isn’t appealing.
Itisgetting easier, though. At first, I felt like I was forcing a lot of smiles around Kieran, trying to be high energy so he wouldn’t see what a mess I actually am. Wouldn’t second-guess his decision to be with me. But I quickly learned it wasn’t necessary to be anything other than my true self. Even if that meant being quiet or shedding a few tears. I don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time with Kieran and it’s so wonderfully refreshing.
“Wow,” Ivy says. “I’msohappy for you, Mer. Kieran sounds incredible.”
“He really is. I can’t believe I almost screwed things up before they even started.”
“But youdidn’tscrew things up, so don’t dwell on that.” Ivy plants her elbows on the desk and leans forward. “Remember when I first started dating Hugh and we agreed not to get too serious because he might be going back to Scotland after Christmas? And I broke my own rules and started falling for him anyway?” She looks at me pointedly, and I can’t help chuckling. “It wasyouwho told me we had met for a reason. And that it was okay to feel what I was feeling and hope for the best. Your talk of signs and the universe and things happening for a reason had a big effect on me.”
My smile wavers and starts to slip, but I force it back into place. “People usually think I’m crazy when I talk about that stuff.” Hell, part ofmefeels crazy now for believing in it. Iwantto believe in the power of the universe again, though. I’ve allowed myself to see some things as signs lately, and yet I can’t accept my mom’s diagnosis and rapid decline as something that was meant to be. I just can’t.
“Maybe I did at first,” Ivy admits, her eyes sparkling. “But I believe it now. So in case you need a reminder, you’re allowed to be happy and feel hopeful. I know you’ve been having a hellish time since your mom went into Birch Hill, but you’re so strong. You deserve to be happy. She’dwantyou to be happy.”
She would. That part is completely, one hundred percent accurate. My momwouldwant me to be happy. So it makes me feel like shit forfeelinglike shit. The guilt is a vicious cycle. It’s the part of the merry-go-round that turns into a snarling beast while the bright, beautiful unicorn beckons to me from up ahead. Now if I could just figure out how to get to that unicorn.
I change the subject by asking Ivy if she’d like a cup of coffee. We’re supposed to be working, but she’s settled back in her chair and doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave. In the interest of saving time, I forego my own two-cup coffee maker and head out into the main office, where Hugh’s assistant keeps freshly brewed coffee throughout the day.
When I return, coffee cups precariously held in one hand so I can balance a plate of mini muffins in the other, I sit beside Ivy instead of across the desk from her.
“Now spill, lady,” I say once I’m settled. “What’s up with you?”
“It’s honestly not a big deal,” Ivy says, slowly peeling the paper off her muffin. “Things with Hugh are great. I love the admin side of my job here and at the bookstore. It’s just…a lot. You know?” She looks up at me and I nod for her to continue. “This is not in any way a reflection of my feelings for Hugh or our relationship…and maybe I shouldn’t say this to you of all people when you’re juststartinga relationship…but sometimes I think back to my days of being single and how much simpler things were. How much more free time I had.”
I remain silent, sensing she’s not finished.
“But I’m happier now. More fulfilled. And it’s not like Hugh and I are together all the time, and he doesn’t make ridiculous demands of me or anything. He’s…amazing.” She says the last word in a tone so dreamy it makes me grin. And then she smacks herself in the forehead and I nearly drop my muffin. “Ugh, what iswrongwith me? I don’t even know. I honestly don’t even know.”
I set my muffin on my desk and reach for her free hand. She lets me hold it, giving it a slight squeeze. She’s used to my touchy-feely approach to things by now. “I think we might be having a bit of the same issue.”
“What is it? Can it be cured by alcohol?”
I snort. Ivy’s not a big drinker, but we’ve had some fun, memorable times together over cocktails at Connelly’s. “Well, we could head to the pub right now and find out if you want.” She tilts her head from side to side without answering. “I think the problem is a lack of balance. We’re both so busy all the time. And even when you’re busy doing things you enjoy, it can still be tiring.”
My balancing act currently feels more like a juggling act. Work here, my part-time writing gig, spending time with Kieran, spending time with Kitty, squeezing in time with Ivy, Bridget, Piper, and Celia. And missing my mom. Worrying about keeping her at Birch Hill.
