Chapter 307: Chapter 307

She stepped out of the car, then paused before walking off. I was already reaching for the handbrake when she leaned back in, one hand resting on the roof, eyes locking onto mine.

“Want to come up for coffee?” she asked. “It’s been a while since we actually talked.”

I glanced at the dashboard clock. “Uh… sure. Your place, or a café?”

“My place.”

I grinned. “Bold invitation after accusing me of flirting, Ivy Komb. Am I missing a message here?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Suck my ass. Just get out of the car.”

I killed the engine and followed her inside.

The elevator ride was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of cables and the faint scent of her perfume. She tapped her foot impatiently as we rose, arms folded loosely.

The doors opened. She unlocked her apartment, stepped inside, and shrugged off her coat.

“So,” she asked over her shoulder, hanging it up, “what kind of coffee do you want?”

“Actually,” I said, drifting toward the kitchen, “I want a milkshake.”

She turned, eyebrow raised. “Milkshake?”

“Yeah.”

She huffed a laugh. “I think I have one of those… milkshake dust things.”

“Powder,” I corrected, smiling.

“Right. Powder.” She sighed dramatically. “This whole thing with my mom dropped my IQ to room temperature.”

“It happens,” I said. “Come on, help me find that milkshake ’dust’ thingie.”

We started opening cabinets, moving around each other in the cramped kitchen. She bent down to check a lower drawer, and I caught myself looking away just in time.

What the hell was I doing?

She was my friend. Delilah’s daughter. This was nothing.

Nothing.

“Aha,” Ivy announced, stretching up toward the top shelf. “Found it. Banana flavor, though.”

I cleared my throat. “Perfect.”

She glanced back at me, amused. “You’re weird.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “You’re just noticing now?”

She laughed, and for a moment, the tension eased—soft, fragile, but real.

╭───────────╮

WOMEN – INTERACTIONS

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Jasmine: Interest: 40 / 60★★

Kayla: Interest: 20 / 40★

Tessa: Interest: 27 / 40★

Kim: Interest: 100 / 100★★★★★

Delilah: Interest: 75 / 80★★★

Cora: Interest: 100 / 100★★★★★

Mendy: Interest: 16 /20

Nala: Interest: 100 /100★★★★★

Penelope: Interest: 5 /20

Minne: Interest: 28 /40★

Ivy: Interest: 12/20

Eleanor: Interest: 10/20

Amelia: Interest: 5/20

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Progress:

★☆☆☆☆ – 20 Interest: Milestone reward

★★☆☆☆ – 40 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★☆☆ – 60 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★☆ – 80 Interest: Milestone reward

★★★★★ -100 Interest: Milestone reward

===============

Select a woman to track progress.

╰───────────╯

I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms as Ivy got to work. First the blender from the cabinet, setting it on the counter with a dull thump. She poured milk in carefully, then added two scoops of banana powder, pausing to sniff it like she was judging its legitimacy. A banana followed, peeled halfway, snapped into pieces and tossed in. Ice last. She screwed the lid on, pressed the button, and the blender roared to life, rattling slightly as the mixture thickened.

“So,” I asked over the noise, watching her more than the machine, “anyone in your life?”

She tilted the blender just enough to keep it steady. “Eeh… complicated.”

“That bad?” I prompted.

She shut the blender off, checked the consistency, then turned it back on for a second longer. “The guy I’m interested in,” she said, still focused on the milkshake, “I think he loves someone else.”

I nodded slowly. “Ah. Love triangle.”

She poured the shake into two tall glasses, the thick liquid sliding down the sides. “I wouldn’t call it a love triangle but… yeah.”

“Tell me about him. Or her. Or both,” I added.

“Forget it,” Ivy muttered, grabbing straws. “I don’t even know if I actually love him.”

“That’s… okay?” I said. “Then what is it?”

She slid one glass toward me. “I guess I just want a new beginning after my last breakup.” She hesitated, then snorted. “Dylan turning out gay didn’t exactly help.”

I blinked. “Oof. Yeah, I remember him. He was a nice guy, though.”

“My friends had a field day with that,” she went on dryly. “’Wow, Ivy, you were so bad in bed your boyfriend turned gay.’ Real supportive bunch.”

“At least he was honest,” I offered. “Could’ve been worse.”

“I know. We still talk sometimes.” She shrugged. “Still sucked, though.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But at least he didn’t cheat.”

She laughed sharply. “If he had, I might’ve actually slapped him.”

We shared a quiet second.

Then she glanced at me. “What about you?” She wiped her hands on a towel. “My mom mentioned Nala. A CEO, huh? Look at you, Marlowe.”

“Pure luck,” I said with a small grin. “Fingers crossed I’m good in bed and won’t turn her into a lesbian.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, shaking her head.

I raised my hands. “Joking. Relax.”

“So funny,” she said flatly, then picked up her glass. “Come on. Living room.”

I followed her out, milkshake in hand. She dropped onto the couch and crossed her legs. I reached for my cigarette pack in my back pocket.

“Mind if I smoke?”

She pointed toward the window. “At least do it there.”

I stepped over, cracked the window open, and lit up. Cold air rushed in as I leaned against the frame, one hand holding the cigarette, the other balancing the glass.

“So,” I said, blowing smoke outside, “tell me about the guy. Name?”

“Chase,” she replied. “He’s a doctor.”

I smirked. “Let me guess. His boss is named House.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I knew you’d say that. But, no. He’s not a real doctor, though. He’s a psychologist.”

“Oh.”

“A damn good one,” she added. “Though… three of his patients died years ago. Ever since, he’s been kind of withdrawn.”

I frowned. “Sounds like he needs a psychologist himself.”

She hummed in agreement, shifting closer so she could see me better. “I went to him at first. Therapy. Helped me deal with Dylan, with my mom. Then we started going out. Drinks, bars, nothing serious.”

“Luckily,” I muttered without thinking.

She tilted her head. “Luckily?”

Shit.

I took a longer drag than necessary, buying time, then washed it down with a gulp of milkshake. Why the hell did that slip out? Was I… happy that nothing serious happened between them?

“I mean,” I said carefully, “dating a psychologist sounds exhausting. He’d win every argument.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Fair point.” Then her smile faded a little. “Honestly… I think I’m just scared of being alone.”

I nodded slowly. “I get that. Felt the same back in college.”

She looked at me. “Hey. You had me. And my mom.”

“And now you have her and me,” I said lightly. “Same deal.”

She leaned back, studying the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “You’re right.”

The room settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling.

I took another drag and chased it with my milkshake while Ivy leaned back, boots landing on the coffee table with a soft thud. She exhaled like she’d been holding something in all evening. Her sweater slid up just a little, exposing a strip of bare skin at her stomach.

Fuck.

It was nothing. Just skin. And yet my brain latched onto it like an idiot. A flash of warmth, a stupid spark I didn’t want to name. I tore my gaze away and stared out the window instead.

Snow drifted down in lazy sheets, traffic crawling below like a tired organism. The wind kicked up every now and then, rattling the glass. Bad weather. Thank fuck for it. Without it, Kim wouldn’t have made it back. Without it, half of my life would’ve gone sideways.

“So,” Ivy broke in, voice casual, “you and Nala. How’s that going?”

I shrugged, eyes still on the street. “Good.”

She laughed and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Oh, come on. That’s it? Give me something.”

“What do you want to know?” I glanced at her. “Ask.”

Her grin turned wicked. “How’s the sex life?”

I blinked. “Wow. Straight for the jugular.”

“Answer it,” she shot back. “Coward.”

I blew out a breath, smoke curling toward the open window. No way in hell I was telling her the full truth… about the others. Mendy knowing was one thing. Ivy was different. This was already skating too close to something weird.

“It’s good,” I settled on. “We love each other.”

She snorted. “You know, Julia and I used to talk.” Her eyes gleamed. “She told me you guys tried to do it once and you finished the second she touched you.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Yeah. I took bad advice. Someone told me edging beforehand would make me last like a porn star.”

“Oh my god.” Ivy burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You absolute idiot.”

“Laugh it up,” I muttered, though I couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m a grown man now. Nala and I are fine. And I don’t care about Julia.”

Her laughter faded a notch. “I saw her at the mall the other day.”

I stiffened. “Yeah?”

“She was still wearing that necklace.”

My head snapped toward her. “What necklace?”

She tilted her head, giving me a look. “The one you worked your ass off to buy? The one you could barely afford while she was dropping more money on shirts than your organs are worth?”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Holy shit… she still had that on?” I asked. “Naah. You’re… no. I mean—nah. I think… or—no, no.”

“Uhh, err, umm,” Ivy quipped. “You idiot. You don’t remember the gift you bought for her?”

I laughed, but it came out wrong. “Of course I don’t.”

She sighed. “You worked at a car wash for weeks for that gift. You were in high school, Evan.”

“Can we not talk about her?” I asked quietly. “It’s over. She’s… free of me.”

“Free?” Ivy scoffed. “She loved you. You just couldn’t handle that she made more money than you.”

“That’s not it,” I snapped, then steadied myself. “If a woman takes care of her man, it’s his job to do the same. I couldn’t. I was broke. It felt wrong.”

“Dumbass,” she muttered, exhaling in disappointment. “Do you seriously picture women as shopping monsters and money-eaters? A simple ’I love you’ would’ve been more than enough for Julia.”

“Nah.” I took another drag and flicked the cigarette out the window. “Let’s not talk about her.”

She tilted her head, unimpressed. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

I sighed. “Which one?”

“Your sex life.” Ivy leaned forward slightly. “How is it?”

“Good.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “How many times a week?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Seven, at least.”

She let out a low whistle. “Wow. Really active, huh?”

“Good for the spirit and the body, Ivy Komb.” I grinned, closing the window shut.

She rolled her shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Wouldn’t know anything about that. Not a single person I can booty-call.”

I cleared my throat pointedly. “You sure about that, Ms. Komb?”

She laughed, taking a long sip of her milkshake, eyes sparkling for just a second before she looked away.

I sat and leaned back into the couch, letting the quiet stretch between us. When was the last time we talked like this? It felt like everything that came with my new life had worn me down, piece by piece.

But moments like this, though?

They were peaceful.

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