Nineteen.

Ivy

Making pain aux raisins is soothing. The steps I have to go through. The yeasty scent of dough and the warm fragrance of almond cream. I push myself, creating dozens of delicate, b.u.t.tery layers. Rolling and folding, rolling and folding.

A fine ache spreads along my neck and shoulders. It feels good, this movement. Proactive in the face of my inner silence. Music plays and I sing along. Rolling and folding. Layer after layer. The dough is like cool satin against my palms.

The phone rings, and I rub my hands on a rag before answering.

It's Fi. "Hey there, mama bear."

"Hey." I try to insert some enthusiasm into my reply. I really do. But it's an epic fail.

Unfortunately, Fi notices. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." Which is true. Life has basically become a void. I'd tried to go out, have fun. Dance with guys and pretend I loved it. But I've never been very good at pretending.

We're both quiet for a minute. Me not being able to respond without sobbing to Fi, and she's playing detective. This becomes obvious when she says with suspicion, "Are you listening to Shadowboxer?"

Sometimes it sucks to have a sister who knows me inside and out.

"No." I flick off my speakers.

"Why are you listening to my moody namesake?"

Fi knows perfectly well that I listen to Fiona Apple when I'm in a funk. "What are you, the DJ police?"

"Yes, and you're in violation of drowning in sad-sack music for the emotionally imbalanced."

Giving up the ghost, I confess. "I miss Gray." I draw in a deep, shaking breath. "I miss him like a loose tooth."

"What?" She laughs, clearly confused.

"You know, it's like a constant ache, and even though I should ignore it, I can't help but prod." Provoke that itchy, dull pain that digs deeper the more I touch on it.

"Ah a vicious circle of self-torture," Fi says. I can picture her nodding now.

I don't say anything, but pluck at a spot of dried flour on my ap.r.o.n.

Fi's gentle voice drifts through the phone. "Do you want me to come home tonight?"

She's been spending more time at her boyfriend's house. I'm almost envious, but I'm not going to drag her over here. "No. I'm okay."

"Call Gray, Ivy."

"I've texted him." A stab of pain hits my heart. "He's been distant. Doing his own thing." Just like I asked him to do. And all I can think of is Gray out, meeting girls, moving on.

Fi sighs. "Yeah, not the same. Call and tell him that you've been an idiot. A big ol' flaming idiot-"

"Hey!"

"And that you want him bad."

My chest clenches as my pulse spikes. "I don't-"

"You do. Lie to me if you want, but don't lie to yourself, Iv."

Grimacing, I press my cold fingers to my eyes. They feel too hot. p.r.i.c.kles are forming behind my lids. "It's for the best. Us cooling things down. I'm leaving for London anyway."

"And yet you told me you don't want to work with Mom. So why go away? Stay here for a while, Ivy. I know I'd love it. Dad would too."

"Which bring us to the fact that he's going to work with Dad," I say lamely. "He wasn't happy about the idea of me being with Gray."

Fi snorts. "So the f.u.c.k what? Have you ever considered that Dad might be more worried about you getting with that hot-a.s.s mountain of man s.e.x than the possibility of losing Gray as a client?"

"What? No."

"Oh, please. He's still our dad. And he's never liked us going out with anyone. You just made it easy for him because you never really cared before."

I clench the back of my aching neck. "Look, it doesn't matter what Dad thinks. Or where I live. Not really. Gray... s.h.i.t, Fi. He's my best friend. What if I tell him I want to take it further, be exclusive, and he doesn't? Or if we do get together and it ends? I can't lose him." But I already am, and it's killing me.

Fiona's silence is like a condemnation.

"Why do you think it will end?" she finally asks.

"Oh, come on," I whisper brokenly. "He's a football star and will soon be an even bigger one. The odds are stacked against us."

"Not all men cheat."

I flinch, her words like a punch to my chest. I'd meant that our lives were on divergent paths, and Gray doesn't even believe in relationships.

"I don't think he'll do that," I say.

"But you fear it."

Suddenly I don't have the strength to stand. My a.s.s. .h.i.ts the stool hard, and I stare off, not seeing my kitchen but the past.

Fi and I witnessed the fights. Heard the phone calls when Mom tried to find out where he was. The hideous sound of Mom crying behind her bedroom door when Dad didn't come home. I'd been ten when they divorced. Even then, I'd vowed never to let a man do that to me.

Did I really think Gray would be like Dad? Did I put that on him?

"s.h.i.t." The sides of my throat hurt, as if a cold hand is squeezing it. I lick my dry lips, wanting Gray more than I've ever wanted anything. Everything is clear and pure when he's with me. Without him, it's all static.

"Call him, Ivy," Fi whispers into the phone. "Let him in."

My voice sounds like a frog's when I can speak. "I've got to go."

By the time I hang up with Fi and dial Gray's number, my fingers are shaking. I don't know what I'm going to say to him. Come back to me. I need you might scare him. I was a stupid a.s.s is probably better.

But he doesn't answer. It goes straight to voice mail. And when I text, telling him that I need to talk to him, he doesn't respond.

Gray

"He's not eating, Drew. It's beginning to freak me out."

Anna's stage voice drifts through my fog, but I don't respond to it. I can't. I'm a G.o.dd.a.m.n mess. I tried being the old me. Crashed and burned. Couldn't even keep up the pretense of Happy-Go-Lucky Gray for more than five minutes with that chick at the party before I fled. Can't get my mind focused on football. Can't do anything but bleed inwardly.

My chest hurts, my throat is closed, and I keep replaying every word Ivy uttered when she demolished my heart, keep visualizing that evil-as-f.u.c.k picture of her dancing with another guy.

"Maybe he's coming down with something," Drew answers before giving my foot a kick under the table. "You feeling all right, Gray-Gray?"

"Yeah," I get out, because he won't stop if I don't respond. "Great."

It was a mistake coming to Drew and Anna's house for dinner. It is freezing cold and raining out, not the best night for driving. But I needed the distraction their happy chatter could bring. Now I just want to leave without any more questions being thrown my way.

"Well, it can't be the food," Anna says, getting up to clear her and Drew's empty plates before taking my full one. "My lasagna is killer." She's not lying. Anna doesn't make the heavy American version of lasagna, but a masterpiece of thin, delicate noodles between layers of bechamel and Italian sausage. She gave me the recipe, and I'm never going back to the old way. It's a shame I can't stomach one bite tonight.

"So I'm guessing no humble pie for desert, huh, babe?" Drew teases, giving Anna's a.s.s a playful swat.

"If you ever want pie again," Anna warns, "you'll eat those words, bud."

Drew hauls her onto his lap where she happily settles in. "Now, Jones, you and I both know that prohibiting me from eating pie hurts you more-"

Anna slaps a hand over his mouth before he can finish. But they're both grinning at each other.

f.u.c.k me. Did I really think it would be a good idea to hang out with Mr. and Mrs. Perpetually in Love? Worse, they both notice my scowl. Drew's brow lifts, and Anna simply peers at me before reaching across the table to rest her small hand on my arm. "What's going on, Gray?"

It's her touch, feminine and light and caring, that reminds me of Ivy's and does me in. I exhale with a shaking breath. "Ivy dumped me."

"Dumped you?" Anna frowns. "Were you two going out?"

"No," I mutter. "As a friend. She thinks we've been spending too much time together. She wants to date...people." The words feel like broken gla.s.s against my throat. I tell them the rest of my disastrous argument with Ivy in short, terse sentences.

When I'm finished, my friends are silent. Probably pitying me. Then Anna gets up and starts messing with her beloved espresso machine-the very one I'd taken care of when she and Drew were on the outs. I still kind of mourn giving back to her. Deftly she makes an espresso, adding a spoonful of sugar, then handing me the cup. "Drink it down like a good boy, and you'll feel better."

Doubtful, but I take a sip anyway. Dark, sweet coffee hits my system like a welcome slap. Weirdly, it does make me feel better. Not by much, but enough. And I realize that this is why I'm here. Being in Drew's familiar kitchen, talking to him and Anna, helps.

Drew leans forward, bracing his arms on the table. "I think we're going to need a bit more explanation. You're both obviously into each other-"

"Oh, obviously," I sneer. "Seeing how she kicked me to the curb."

"Please." Drew waves a hand. "I've seen you two together. You're like..."

"Drew and I are," Anna supplies with a grin.

"What? Going at it like h.o.r.n.y bunnies? I wish." I truly do. f.u.c.k, how I do.

"Baby steps, Gray-Gray." Drew starts tapping his thumb against the table. Thinking. I hate when he does that. "So you kissed Ivy, and she freaked. Did it happen right after you kissed her? Must have been some s.h.i.tty kiss."

"f.u.c.k you," I say without heat, because I know Drew is messing with me. I'd have said the same to him.

I haven't told them about the things we did before I kissed her. It was too personal. But I think about it now. The sounds she made, how she came against my fingers. My head hurts and is too heavy to hold up. I push away my cup and rest my face on the table. It's cool against my cheek. "She seemed into it but then she wasn't."

"You must have said something stupid, then."

"You don't know that, Drew." Anna gets up and makes herself a cup of espresso. The machine whistles and grumbles.

"Oh, no? Because I'm betting he did. Gray often speaks before he thinks. Kind of like someone else I know." Drew ducks the towel Anna throws at him, then he gives me an expectant look. "Well? Think, bonehead."

I lift head to glare. "I did everything I could not to freak her out. She asked me what we were doing, and I told her that... Oh, s.h.i.t." On a groan, I slam my head back down on the table. "s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t."

"Told you," Drew says to Anna.

"Zip it, Baylor," Anna says. "What did you say to her, Gray?"

Don't think. It doesn't matter. It doesn't have to matter. Because that's what I thought she wanted to hear. Because I was afraid to tell her the truth. "All the wrong things." I shove back from the table. "I've got to go."

Twenty.