Ivy

N oah James is standing in my office. Again. He’s supposed to be gone. Far away from here. The sight of him is so unsettling it makes me nauseous.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, Noah. Or at all,” I say with as much venom as I can muster. “Why are you in my office?” I ask, then think of a better question. “What are you still doing in Silverthorne?”

“I told you we’d be staying through the new year,” he says.

“Yes, and it’s January the 6th. Well after the new year,” I deadpan. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“It’s more about what I can do for you,” he starts as I sit in my chair behind my desk.

“I’m listening,” I say, motioning with my hand for him to continue. The sooner he says whatever he wants, the sooner I can tell him to get the hell out of here.

“I don’t want to marry Margot,” he confesses, and I have to will my eyes not to pop out of my head. “I never wanted to marry her. ”

“That’s interesting because you fucked her well before the ink on our marriage certificate had dried, then continued to the whole time we were married, so I got the impression you were pretty happy with her,” I say flatly.

“I didn’t know you cared.” His reply is dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t then, and I still don’t. Which is why I’m very confused about why you’re telling me this.”

“I know I didn’t always treat you how I should have, Red,”—I snort at his understatement—“but it wouldn’t be like that this time.” That’s where he completely loses me.

“This time? I’m sorry I’m not following you. We’re divorced, Noah,” I say slowly, making sure to enunciate every last syllable. He ignores me.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I think it would be best for both of us to reconcile.” The words coming out of his mouth sound like another language to me. He’s fully delusional if he thinks there is any possible reality where I go back to the hell that I’ve barely managed to crawl out of as it is.

“You’re missing a very large piece of the puzzle there, Noah.” And possibly a few screws.

“I assure you; I’ve thought of everything. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it all. Your father has assured me?—”

“My father?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yes, Sullivan and I have talked this through. When you come back to California after your time here, which he and I agree has been extremely beneficial for you. You’ve proven that the position at Rutherford Industries deserves to be yours. Well done,” he rambles. The level of excitement in his voice is unexpected. Like he truly expects me to be happy about this .

“Noah. Let me be clear. I will never marry you again.” My voice is unwavering. Keeping my emotions out of it. Inside, I’m raging. He scoffs.

“I suppose your new plaything has something to do with this.” He throws at me.

“Alder has nothing to do with this. I will never subject myself to a life with you anywhere near it ever again.”

“I think you’re forgetting that we’re still connected through our business ventures.” He smiles, but it’s cold. Calculated. “I was hoping we could do this amicably.” He sighs and sits in the chair across from me, leaning onto the edge of my desk. I want to scream, but I breathe in through my nose to calm myself.

“What do you mean by that, Noah?”

“It would cause a pretty large scene if word got out about where you actually went when we told them you were at a spa retreat, . They may even question if you’re capable of taking over any position or capable of taking care of yourself at all,” he threatens, and I physically flinch as though I’ve been slapped.

“How would that possibly get out?” I say through clenched teeth. Shame slices at me.

“You know how reporters are these days, and with you disappearing again these past few months—people are asking questions. Questions I have the answers to.” My vision blurs. I’m not sure if it’s solely from the rage that's brewing inside me or if there are actual tears there.

“Why?” I croak. “Why would you do that to me?” I don’t remember much of my time in the psychiatric ward I was sent to, but the flashes I do are not pretty. To this day, I’m not sure if it was actually a licensed mental health facility.

“I don’t want to, , and I won’t so long as you see reason,” he says gently, like he’s speaking to a child .

“I’m not nineteen anymore, Noah. You can’t manipulate me anymore,” I warn. He sits back in his seat and stares at me.

“Cut the dramatics, . It’s not going to work this time. I think I’m finally past the point of caring if everyone knows about my skeletons. Anyone who truly knows me wouldn’t judge, and if they did, then fuck them. I laugh, only it comes out a little hysterical sounding.

“If you think telling whatever struggling journalist you can find that I had to spend time in a mental hospital as a result of the way you treated me, a nineteen-year-old who just lost her baby, then go right ahead, Noah,”—I swallow, unsure if I’ll be able to follow through on what I threaten next—“but be ready for the backlash, and be ready for me to tell my side of the story.” He sets his jaw and then sucks his teeth.

“Fine. If that’s how you want to do this, then I hope you’re prepared.” His voice lacks all the fake niceties he conjured earlier.

“Prepared for what?” a voice that I wouldn’t have expected to hear calls from the hall. “What exactly does need to be prepared for?”

“Sullivan. Wh-what are you doing here?” Noah stutters out.

“Well, that’s going to be revealed very shortly, but first, I would really like to hear what my daughter needs to prepare herself for,” he says cooly. Noah opens his mouth, looking for an excuse. A way to weasel out of my father’s wrath. He should know by now there’s nowhere to run. Threatening my reputation threatens his, and he may not care for me, but he does care about the name Rutherford.

“I…I was just trying to make see reason. You and I both know she belongs back in California, running the family bu siness, and she should be back at my side.” He pauses, then when my father doesn’t reply he continues, “She shouldn’t be wasting her time here with a fucking snowboarding instructor. There’s nothing for her here.” He throws, casting a hand out.

My father turns his attention to his hands, and as he speaks, he works on calmly removing them from his gloves. “Noah, I’ve given you every opportunity to succeed,” he says so quietly I can almost hear my heart pounding. “But…” He sighs heavily. “You’ve squandered all of them. I think it’s best if we part ways.” His eyes flit up to a shocked Noah. “Permanently,” he adds.

“Sullivan. That’s…that’s not true. Surely we can work something out. I can take on more responsibility. I’m working on something right now?—”

“Not for Rutherford Industries.” The finality in my father’s voice cutting off Noah’s sentence is one I’ve learned you cannot argue with. Pushing off the wall and standing to his full height, he looks incredibly intimidating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look like this.

“And if I decide to go to the press and tell them that here spent time in a psychiatric treatment facility? That she’s so weak in the head that she had to spend months wearing grippy socks with drool running down her face just to cope with things that happen to people every day?” I hate how his words slash at my stitched-up wounds. They’re bleeding again. The shame is threatening to swallow me alive.

“I’m not sure how that’s relevant to this conversation. Does know that you’re here as a last-ditch effort to save your name from ruin?” my father asks, and I blink. What? Noah looks like he’s been sucker punched for a second before schooling his features .

“I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but I can assure you?—”

“I’m getting all of my information from my former business partner,” he tells Noah. “I think you both know him.” He looks at me and then back to Noah. No. He can’t mean… “Alder Holloway.” My mouth pops open in shock, and my vision starts to tunnel.

“Your business partner?” Noah and I ask at the same time. Sullivan just nods, like he’s bored.

“Former, as of this morning,” he confirms, and then he looks at me. My mind is whirling. Alder knows my father? He is…er he was my father’s business partner? In what? Why wouldn’t he tell me? I stare at my father. Stunned. He speaks again, and I hear him, but I’m not sure if I process everything happening.

“As we speak, your office back in California is being audited by the IRS. They got a tip that you hadn’t been completely truthful with the income amounts you’ve been reporting to them. They don’t like that, and neither do I. I turned everything I had over to them in exchange for immunity,” he states plainly. Noah’s face pales, then it turns angry.

“You don’t know what you’ve just done. You just made an enemy out of not only me but my family, Sullivan! All my family’s business associates.” He’s trying to intimidate him, but my father just nods, contemplative.

“Maybe, but I’m assuming they will all want to stay far away from you for the next five to seven years while all this gets settled.” No sooner does he get the words out that two police officers walk in, grip each of his arms, and start telling him his rights. I’m shocked. Completely at a loss for words. My emotions have been taken for a ride the last hour and a half, and I’m not sure what I feel. Other than the burn of his betrayal. Alder lied to me. Like every man I have ever trusted has—he lied. I stare at the ceiling while Noah tries to plead with the officers. I don’t know how to reconcile the man I’m learning has lied to me since the moment I met him with the man I was beginning to fall for. The Alder I know wouldn’t do something like that.

The officers who read Noah his rights have left, leaving just a few investigators to stay back and speak with my father. I’m barely hanging on. My mind won’t reconcile what’s just occurred. That he knew about it and decided to keep me out of it. I sit in my desk chair spiraling, and when I look up again, I see it’s just us now.

“,” my father says, and I look up to meet his eyes.

“A heads-up phone call would have just been too much?” I accuse, and he sighs.

“Let’s not get too hung up on the details, . I’m really in no mood,” he dismisses me.

“You’re in no mood? Ha.” I let out a harsh laugh. “I’ve just found out you had my ex-husband investigated by the IRS,” I say.

“Actually, I didn’t have him investigated. Alder Holloway did. He just informed me of his findings, giving me the opportunity to cut ties with Noah before my name was dragged through the mud. Not a good look,” he tells me. “I’m sure you’re happy to hear this though. All this ensures you’ll be appointed the role of creative director at Rutherford Industries,” he supplies, clueless to the fact that the man who saved his company has wrecked my heart in the process.

“I don’t think I want the job anymore,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Well. I suppose that will be your decision. I need to get back to the airstrip, so I look forward to hearing from you with your formal answer. The job is yours if you want it. If not, I’m going to need to fill the position soon. With all this turnover, our investors will want a statement.” I’m numb to his words. I don’t care about the job anymore. I don’t care about Rutherford Industries or what Sullivan Rutherford thinks of me, maybe for the first time in my life, as ironic as that is.

“Goodbye, . Take care,” he says with a wave of his hand, walking out my office door, leaving me with the knowledge that the one man I chose to let into my life after years of thinking I never would—is just like all the others before.