12. CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ivy

4 DAYS UNTIL RED CARPET EVENT

If it wasn't for the panic and anxiety running through my body, I'd be freezing. When I made the split-second decision to walk to the lodge and confront Holland, I didn't account for the weather—ironic considering that's a key part of my anxiety. In hindsight, I needed more layers and a hat that would stay on, no matter the wind.

Now, I'm on the couch, my hair soaking wet. I pull the brunette strands into a bun, not wanting to drip all over this leather couch, which I've always loved. I wipe my hands dry on my shirt, before setting them in my lap. Slate ran over to me the second I walked in the door. I pick him up and he sits down next to me, touching the side of my thigh.

The cold in my fingers makes them almost numb, something I didn't notice until now.

Holland pauses in the doorway, the door slammed shut by the wind. I don't look up because I'm afraid I'll just keep talking. Questioning. It's Holland's turn. I focus on my fingers, rubbing them together, keeping my eyes down.

Holland takes a blanket out of the basket on the side of the couch and wraps it around my shoulders before he sits in the chair across from me .

"Ivy, I'm sorry. I kept trying to bring it up and it never felt right," Holland says as I keep my eyes down, even though I know that's now how people effectively communicate. Sometimes, I want to be a little childish and stomp my feet. This is one of those times.

"No decisions have been made, honestly. This is an offer and I've envisioned saying yes but also saying no. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew this wasn't a decision just for me. It's for the both of us."

I look up to see his dark eyes fixed on me.

"Hard to contribute when I didn't even know this was something you were considering." Again, I know it's not super productive but I'm being honest.

"I know that. And it's not like I searched for these people. They stayed at the lodge and approached me. I've had three meetings and nothing is set in stone."

"Why are you even entertaining the idea of selling?" I ask, trying to give no information on my own insecurity.

"This company has success in making places like this thrive, not just for now, but forever. It's something that would help make sure the lodge can be viable for a long time."

"Is the business in financial trouble?" I ask, trying to understand. Holland and I rarely talk about business specifics but maybe that's because he's embarrassed. Maybe it's going under? Maybe it's sell the lodge or close it? My thoughts jump from one disaster to the next in the brief span between my question and Holland's answer.

"No, we're making money. Everything is okay. But it's not because I necessarily know what I'm doing. I feel like I've been lucky up to this point." Holland's voice is level and clear. If he's upset or agitated, I don't see it. "When I took this place over, it was because I owed it to Hazel. All in the hopes of it being successful. These people might be able to do something I could never do."

He swallows something back, pressing his lips together.

"They might be able to preserve Hazel's vision. What she wanted for this place." His voice almost cracks and it hurts me.

The sincerity in his eyes tell me what I knew, deep down. This isn't malicious and comes from a good place. His execution desperately needs work.

"Holland, I get that. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me."

"There were so many times I almost did. But, you have had so much going on, and I didn't want to pile on. And then I thought when you came back home, after the event was done, we could talk about it."

"If you haven't noticed, I always have a lot going on. My job is sometimes unpredictable, plus I'm just that kind of person. If that means you're going to keep important things from me, I've found a serious flaw in our relationship." It's sharp but honest.

Yes, I've made lots of changes in the last couple years in therapy, but the work is never done. Plus, things you work through always seem to come back for more work later. It's part of the deal, which I'm fine with, but I'm nervous Holland thinks there will be a time I'm just "better," more together and with less going on.

"You do but this event is a new thing. I'm so fucking proud of you for doing it, even though it meant you spending extended time away from home. I was trying to support you through it and thought this could be an after thing."

Even though I'm disappointed, and still confused, Holland is doing his best to be clear and honest. I appreciate it .

Slate, wanting more of the blanket, walks onto my lap, curling up. The amount of serotonin this dog brings me is unreal. I'm immediately in a better mood, even if it's just a few notches.

"I know you meant well but do you know what I felt when I found these? One second, I'm looking for a pen and the next it felt like my world was slipping away. Like, maybe you didn't want this," I point between the two of us, "anymore." The last part flies out of my mouth before I can keep it to myself.

Holland stands up, coming over to the couch, a look of sadness etched on his face.

"Out of everything in the world, the thing I know I want is you. Forever. No matter where that is," He puts his hand on the nape of my neck, pulling me closer to him. When he rests his forehead on mine, his eyes, the color of honey, find mine.

"Ivy, I love you, and I'm sorry you thought that had changed, even for a second." He kisses me, his lips are soft and full. He keeps his forehead on mine.

Feeling his eyes on me, intense and full of love, soothes the panic a bit—pushes it further from the edge. Holland was in the wrong for not bringing this up sooner, but I know my brain contributes to the problem.

I typically overthink too many interactions: what I, or someone else, said or did, and intentions. But that's not the case with Holland. He's also the first man I've been with who doesn't make me question everything—it's one of the reasons I fell so fast. For once, I felt like someone saw me for me, and still liked what was there.

Holland is the space where my brain gets a break. Today is not typical .

"I know you love me." My voice is barely above a whisper and I lean further into his touch. "I'm sorry about the spiral, I was just so caught off guard." I sit back onto the couch, breaking our contact.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"One, take responsibility for something you didn't do. That was something I did," Holland emphasizes with a hand on his chest. "Two, don't talk bad about your brain. It's beautiful and does a lot of great things."

I don't know what to say, so naturally, I start to laugh—my go to response. I cover my mouth with my hand like Holland can't see my shoulders shaking. A borderline uncomfortable grin pulls on his lips as his eyes grow bigger.

"What is happening?" he asks.

"Never heard someone tell me I had a beautiful brain," I giggle before I can cover my mouth. "It's like my brain can't compute the phrase."

"Here's what I think we should do," Holland stands, grabbing the papers from the ottoman. "I'm going to give these to you, plus the email thread from some questions I had. I want you to take the time to read and process what's here, and then we can talk."

"Woah, your therapy is showing." I try not to let my mouth hang open because I literally couldn't think of a better way to pause this discussion to make it more productive.

"I have some running around to do quickly. Not to freak you out or anything but looks like snow is coming. They always predict much more than we get but it's always better to be prepared."

My stomach drops. I recognize it's because I'm caught off guard.

"I'm going to check on the lodge and then I'll go to the store and be back here before you know it. Sound good? "

"Yes. Sounds good. Do you have another copy of this or is this like it?"

"I have the file in my email, so if you want to take it in the bath, completely fine."

I'm still upset about this whole thing but one thing is clear: Holland knows me, down to my bones.

It's hard to say no to a bubble bath.