Ivy couldn’t believe Will had actually kept good on his promise to take her to see Jane Austen’s house. She figured she’d end up here on her own. But, for the last three and a half weeks, he’d been doing everything possible to make sure the items on her UK Bucket List were getting checked off. Of course, his added activity, Intimate Tour of Will’s Flat, had been the first thing they’d completed. At this point, it probably could have been checked off multiple times. Just this morning, he’d taken her in the kitchen after he’d made breakfast and she was trying to do the dishes. Her cheeks heated at the memory of him pressing her against the counter, one hand locked on her hip, the other circling her throat as he pushed into her.
As they wandered around the room where Jane had done most of her writing, Will stepped close behind her, his lips at her ear. “You’re blushing, love. What’s that about?”
That only made her face burn hotter. She shook her head as he chuckled and whispered about turning her other cheeks red. She stared at him wide-eyed, ignoring the tour guide in Edwardian dress, who was clearing her throat and looking pointedly at them. Just as Ivy turned away from Will again, his phone rang, startling her and causing the guide to shoo them out into the garden.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Answer your phone.”
Somehow, it seemed only fitting that they get kicked out of a National Trust House.
Keeping his gaze on her, he swiped his screen and brought it to his ear, “Darby.”
She took a few steps away to give him more privacy, but he followed her, and lacing their fingers together, led her deeper into the meticulously manicured garden.
“At the moment,” he said, “we’re in Chawton.” After a pause, he added, “Yes, Jane Austen’s house. Well, we were. Your phone call got us kicked out.”
Ivy shook her head and leaned over to smell some bright pink sweet peas, but she straightened when the tone of Will’s voice changed.
“Yeah. That works. I’ll see you then.”
He slipped his phone in his pocket and smiled at her, but it wasn’t the normal high-wattage smile she was used to seeing when he looked at her.
“What’s up?”
“That was Simon. Apparently, he and the physical therapist both cleared me to return to practice Monday.”
“That’s great—isn’t it?”
He shrugged a little sheepishly. “It’s good. But it also means spending less time with you.”
Her heart stumbled a bit at the sweetly-earnest expression on his face. And then, she realized what that would likely mean for her. “We should probably get going, then, so I can still catch the train back to Charlotte’s. When we get back home—I mean, your place—I’ll get packed and out of your hair.”
He slid his arms around her waist and drew her to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Not wanting you out of my hair, love.” He paused for a moment and met her gaze. “Unless you’re wanting to get on with your list? I mean, I could probably manage some weekend trips, if you still wanted company...”
She nodded slowly, not really sure what he was offering.
He pulled her closer and took a deep breath. “We do better when I’m direct, don’t you think?”
She nodded again.
“I don’t want you to go back to Charlotte’s. I want you to stay with me. I want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can before you have to leave for the States. I know that makes me a selfish, greedy bastard, and I swear, I’ll make it up to you with as many trips as we can squeeze in on the weekends—wherever you want. Just say you’ll stay?”
Every warning bell she possessed started simultaneously clanging at once. This was the stupidest thing she could possibly agree to. She should cut her losses and run far and fast because she was in way too deep already, and it was only going to get worse. Much, much worse.
Will still thought that this thing between them was going somewhere. Even though she it knew it wasn’t, even though she knew it was bound to end sooner rather than later—certainly before Charlotte and Caleb returned home—she knew she couldn’t bring herself to tell Will anything but yes. Because she was stupid. So fucking stupid.
“So?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “I’ll stay.”
His smile was so wide and beautiful her heart hurt to see it. He rested his forehead on hers. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Staring into his deep-green eyes, she knew he was right. She wouldn’t be sorry. She already was. But she also wasn’t smart enough or strong enough to make a different choice. She’d just deal with the fallout when it ended. And if she was incredibly lucky, Charlotte would never need to know.
Ivy pushed aside the guilt that she was keeping yet another huge thing from her best friend. The wedding reception. The aftermath. And now this. God, she was a shitty friend. The shittiest, really. What kind of person repeatedly fucked her friend’s little brother, who was supposed to be completely off-limits? Ivy did. Ivy, who was the worst kind of friend in the world.
Will dropped a kiss on her nose, drawing her attention back to him. “What are you freaking out about and over-analyzing now?”
“Who says I’m doing either of those things?” She frowned at him.
He raised his eyebrow as he stared at her. “Look, just promise me that you’ll never try to take up gambling as a profession. You’re quite possibly the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Brat.”
“Not that I’m complaining. Makes figuring out your secrets a little easier.”
Her smile froze in place at the thought of the one that was forever wedged between them.
He stilled, studying her, and she knew that even though he had no idea what it was, he knew she was hiding something from him. Guilt prodded her, but she shoved it away. She’d done what she’d had to do, and that was the end of it.
“So, are you going to finish checking out the garden with me, or what?”
He watched her a moment more then let her lead him toward the rose beds.
As they wandered toward the back of the yard, his text tone sounded. He pulled his phone from his pocket and read the message, then glanced down at her. “I know we were planning on going out to dinner tomorrow, but how would you feel about rescheduling that and meeting some of my friends?”
She tried to smile past what she was sure was a pained deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Friends?”
This was, again, starting to feel like the sort of relationship-type territory she was trying to avoid. But maybe seeing how poorly she fit in with his actual life would help him realize they were better off being fond memories for each other.
If Will noticed her hesitation or discomfort, he didn’t let on. “Rob, one of the guys on the team, likes to cook.” He grinned. “And his wife likes to have conversations with actual adults.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Her husband isn’t an actual adult?”
“They just had their third kid earlier this year—which makes three under the age of five, plus his son who’s around Pheeb’s age.”
“Wow. Yeah, I guess I’d want some adult interaction, too.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve got some adult interaction for you.”
“Oh, I just bet you do.” A giggle slipped out then faded as she caught the eye of an older couple smiling indulgently at her and Will.
“So...you think you might want to brave it?” he asked.
“The adult interaction? Absolutely.”
“Good. I’ve got plans for you.” He smiled at the shiver that worked through her body. “But I was talking about dinner at Rob’s.”
She pressed her lips together briefly. She usually wasn’t great with crowds or lots of new people, but Will looked so damn excited about the prospect of her meeting his friends, she nodded. Besides, after tomorrow, even he’d be able to see how wrong they were for each other.
“Okay.”
* * * *
Ivy had no clue why she was so damn nervous to meet Will’s friends. She’d met hundreds, probably thousands, of parents since she’d begun teaching. Meeting fifteen or twenty people shouldn’t be that big a deal. But it was. They were Will’s friends. And even though she knew he’d come to his senses eventually, she didn’t really want anyone speculating about why he’d brought along a dumpy, boring, clearly out of her league date.
But she’d forced a smile and exchanged greetings while Will handed over the chocolate chip cookies she’d insisted on making this morning. She’d already felt like an interloper. The thought of showing up empty-handed was even more uncomfortable, so she’d made the only recipe she could remember off the top of her head.
Sarah, Rob’s gorgeous blonde wife, who in no way looked as if she’d had one kid, let alone three, peeked under the tinfoil then clutched the plate of cookies to her chest, keeping them out of reach of her baby’s grabbing hands. She handed off the little girl to Will. “It was lovely meeting you, Ivy. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room. Alone. With this plate.”
Ivy laughed as Sarah turned as if to leave the kitchen.
“Hey now,” Will said. “My girl made those. Pretty sure that entitles me to at least a couple. Isn’t that right, Avery? Your mumma’s being spoilt, isn’t she? Yes, she is,” he murmured to the child, who was currently exploring his face with her pudgy little hands.
Ivy’s heart clenched. Though, she couldn’t tell if it was from Will’s casual endearment for her or the fact that he was holding an adorable baby as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him.
Sarah nudged Ivy with her shoulder and passed her a glass of wine as she nodded toward where Will was making the baby belly laugh. “That one’s a keeper. Going to be a such a good dad, someday.”
Ivy nodded noncommittally as she took a sip of the cool liquid and hoped her hand wasn’t shaking as much as she was afraid it was. He really was going to be an amazing father, someday. She’d already known that from watching him with Phoebe and Kit—soccer ball incident, aside. But seeing him now, with this child, who couldn’t be more than seven or eight months old, made her heart hurt for what she could never have with him. That ship had sailed just as surely as it had never truly been an option.
“We’ll get him trained up for you,” Sarah said with a chuckle, clinking her glass against Ivy’s.
Before she could think of anything to say in response, the sound of the doorbell repeatedly ringing set her nerves on edge.
Sarah sighed and put her glass on the counter. “That’ll be Nigel’s family. Back in a mo.”
The doorbell kept ringing even after Sarah had answered it, and she said, “Jacob, that’ll be enough of that.”
As the new family came into the house, Ivy retreated into the bathroom. It wasn’t that she was hiding. She just needed a little break from all the reminders of how she didn’t fit into this world. And how, even though he was the most comfortable, comforting place she’d ever been, she didn’t belong with Will, either.
After a couple minutes, the sound of chaos had moved farther into the house, and she ducked back into the kitchen to find it empty—well, nearly empty. There was a boy about Phoebe’s age sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling all over what looked like a reading worksheet page.
“Having a rough time with your homework?” Ivy asked. She sighed inwardly at herself. It was really none of her business.
“Daddy says I have to finish my reading sheets before I can play. But it’s too hard.”
“Do you think you might like some help?”
The boy stared at her.
“I’m Ivy. I’m a...friend of your parents. I’m also a teacher.”
He continued to give her the side-eye, but he finally said, “My name’s Robbie. I guess you can sit down if you want to.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks. Why don’t you show me your assignment?”
“It’s kinda hard to read now.” He looked a little sheepish.
She glanced at the paper he’d marked up. “Don’t worry—we’ll figure it out. Everyone gets a little frustrated sometimes.”
An almost-smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he opened his language arts textbook.
The sound of laughter, and the doorbell ringing again, drifted to them from the other room, and Ivy glanced in that direction, guilt dropping like stones in her gut. She should be out there, meeting Will’s friends like he’d wanted her to. Instead, she was hiding out in the kitchen with Robbie, who was watching her hopefully. The kid won.
She pointed at the story he’d been assigned. “Why don’t you read this out loud to me?”
He frowned but slid the edge of his paper underneath the first line of text and began to read.