And as luck would have it, the booth behind him was clear.
At once he flung his arm along the back of the booth and hoisted a foot onto the bench. “If you’ll excuse me…” Hunching on the bench now, Easton hurdled the divider and landed on the bench behind him. He dodged the hanging light in time to land in the empty part of the aisle. Onlookers sat in booths, gawking as whispers broke out over the crowd.
Darkness cased him in the narrow hallway as he strode toward the glowing green sign. A small child and her mom exited the ladies room, but Easton breezed right past them with ease.
“Where’s he going?” a little voice came.
Anywhere but here. Who cared what they made of it? Let them think he was rushing to the men’s room, nauseous or camera shy from all the attention. Let them think he was making some cowardly escape. Easton didn’t care what they assumed. Max was replacing him for the upcoming group at the center? Great. He’d make his escape alright, and Easton didn’t care if they brought on an entire search party; he’d disappear until he wanted to be found.
With that thought, Easton shoved open the dark exit door and made his escape.
Chapter 15
Ivy released a deep sigh as she stared at her new office surroundings. It seemed impossible that three days had gone by without a word from Easton Sparks. His sister, Chantelle, had reached out to her shortly after he’d angrily ended their call. With Ivy’s permission, Marsha had given Chantelle the number, which had been, in some ways, a saving grace. At least Ivy could talk to someone who cared about him too. Who was concerned for his well-being.
During their rather lengthy phone conversation, Chantelle explained what happened at the diner. He just got up, stomped into the other booth, and went right out the exit.
Ivy couldn’t help but play that horrific moment again and again. …was nice doing business with you, Ivy. She kept waiting for the recollection to lose its punch, but it never did. It seemed to grow more powerful instead, the mere recollection zapping every sense of peace Ivy owned. He actually thought she’d betrayed him, that this was all about business to her. That was the worst part of all.
It felt as if electric eels were swarming throughout her insides, bumping into vessels, crashing against nerves, and disrupting the rhythm of her heart. A heart that felt like it was breaking into a trillion tiny pieces.
What if Easton never talked to her again? She couldn’t even fathom the thought.Chantelle had done her best to put Ivy's mind at ease, assuring her that Easton would come around. He was a man who needed his space. He was quiet, private and, his sister went on to say through tears, totally unsuited for a reality TV show. She now regretted forcing it on him as she had.
But at least Chantelle, unlike Easton, had given Ivy the chance to explain. It was the one peace of mind she had. Easton may have his mind set on never talking to Ivy again, but he would talk to Chantelle, and Chantelle could set things straight.
Unless he was looking for a way out.
That was a very real possibility as well. One she didn’t like thinking about.
The Nature Rehab Center’s January program started that morning and, as Chantelle predicted, Easton hadn’t shown.
She glanced down at her phone to reread her recent text thread with Chantelle.
Ivy: I really thought he’d show up today. He loves his job so much, it seems like something he’d never purposely miss.
Chantelle: Yeah, but he knew I had arranged for a replacement so he could go on the show. I wish now I wouldn’t have told him. He’d definitely be here otherwise.
But he wasn’t, and now they’d be left to wonder where he’d gone off to. And for who knew how long? Nature specialist as he was, Easton could probably live a long happy life in a yurt or a snow hut, with only the wolves and wildlife as his friends.
Would he hide out in the wilderness from one season to the next, become some sort of caveman, all to dodge a fate he couldn’t face? Thank heavens Easton had Chantelle. He loved her too much to disappear completely, Ivy knew that much. And he’d want to be around when the baby was born.
But where did she fit into the equation? And what about the potential lawsuit he faced for bailing? Marsha wasn't exactly the vindictive type, but she was known to get what she wanted one way or another, and she wasn’t above getting her hands dirty.
If only Nancy hadn’t sent those files to Marsha, if only Ivy hadn’t sent them to the company cloud back on that snowy day, she and Easton might have really stood a chance.
Was she just fooling herself to believe he would ever be able to fall in love? Not just in love in general, which seemed a great enough feat in itself, but in love with her. That, among all the madness of the last few days, seemed impossible to her now. One could only suspend disbelief for so long before it all came crashing down.
And as Ivy thought back on the time she’d spent with him, whether wrapped in his embrace, dancing about the yurt, or enjoying his passionate kiss, she was glad she had the memories to cherish.
She tugged open her desk drawer and retrieved one of the ornaments he’d made. While preparing to leave the yurt, they’d decided to divide the handmade ornaments in two, each taking half. Ivy had scattered them about, hanging one of the twig crosses he’d made on her rearview, and another on her bedpost. Between the rooms in her house, the drawers in her desk, and her car’s glovebox and mirror, she was greeted several times a day with the lovely trinkets that put a smile on her face and a skip in the beat of her heart.
But over the last few days, the items seemed to haunt her instead. To remind her of what she’d almost had.
A buzz came from her desk phone, and Ivy wasted no time snatching it up. “Hello?”
“I need to pick your brain about Easton,” Marsha said. “The media’s buzzing about it, and I need answers.”
Oh, great. The media?
“Come up to my office, please.”
Ivy straightened up. “Okay.” A burst of encouragement pushed through her. Perhaps Marsha was looking for a way to let Easton out of his contract. Perhaps he’d gotten in touch with them. She hurried to her feet and headed toward the elevators. She was halfway to Marsha’s office before she realized she’d left her phone behind.
An irrational sense of fear took over at the thought of missing a call from Easton. Stop it, Ivy. You’re probably the last person he’d call right now.
The sad truth of that statement made her eyes sting. It made her heart feel like it was bleeding suddenly, from a very raw and aching gash. Had she ever really had a chance with Easton? And if so, were those chances as squashed as she believed they were?
Marsha stood next to her open door, moving aside to let Ivy enter as she arrived.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, voice even and calm. The woman motioned for Ivy to take a seat.
She did, watching as Marsha walked to the front of her desk and leaned against it, arms folded over her chest. The woman surveyed her for a moment before speaking up.
“I talked with Chantelle again this afternoon. She told me that Easton confided in her before the crew showed up.” Marsha snatched a stapled stack of papers off her desk, flipped a few pages, and stared at the image beneath—a close up of Easton.
Oh man. Ivy hadn’t seen his face since they’d said goodbye. In her mind, yes, but in print, right before her eyes…