As much as the realization stung, Easton detected hints of relief among the pain. The greater agony, perhaps, was the struggle of making a relationship work. Trying to pursue something that was destined to end in ruin.
But accepting that it was over….well, it meant things would be easier now. Less messy. Less…risky, an inner voice filled in. The word made him feel like a coward. But so what if he was? He’d be a comfortable coward, safe from all the turmoil relationships brought. And who had he been fooling? Had Easton really believed he could change after all this time? And how absurd had it been for him to fall for a woman so thoroughly in just a few short days?
He shook his head. “Ridiculous.” The mere recognition brought Easton one step closer to the man he used to be, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
With a bit of satisfaction, Easton climbed out of the Jeep, taking his gear along with him, and moved to put the phone back in the glovebox. Not that that was necessary; he wouldn’t have cell service back at the campsite anyway. May as well keep it with him.
Yet as he walked away from his Jeep, away from the mess he’d decided not to address for now, the satisfaction he’d felt a moment ago fled. Loneliness seeped into its place. Cold, dark, and hollow. Guilt slunk in too. Shouldn’t he just read what Ivy sent him? He didn’t have to respond, did he?
In fact, he’d force himself not to respond right away. Even better, he’d sleep on it—wait until the next day to send any reply. That way, he wouldn’t say anything he might regret. Yeah, that was good.
So, he’d do it. He’d see what Ivy had to say for herself, and then he’d go right back to his campsite.
Easton flicked his thumb over the screen to get back to his texts. And there it was, Ivy’s simple three-letter name. The affection he felt at the sight of it made his heart cry out once more. A desperate yearning that swelled with each aching thump.
No replying today, he reminded himself. He tapped the screen over her name and read.
Ivy: Easton, I’m not the one who sent in your contract. My coworker, Nancy, sent it, along with your interview, while I was gone. Please call and let me explain. I don’t want you to go on the show either, but there’s nothing I can do.
Easton let that bomb rumble through him, the commotion causing the layers he’d built in his mind to crumble. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and walked on, willing the sweat casing his face to hurry and cool against the breeze, but it wasn’t. Another step more and he tugged the phone from his pocket and reread the message.
“Not the one who sent it in?”
Keep walking, Easton. That was the deal. But there was another message from her he wanted to read first.
Ivy: Please, Easton. I’m sick to my stomach. Please call and let me hear your voice. Call and let me explain. I don’t want to lose what we have.
Another explosion rocked through him, displacing all the thoughts in his head. Why in heavens name wouldn’t he call her? Maybe there really was a good explanation for the whole thing.
He gulped and, with a shaky hand, hovered his thumb over the icon at the top of the screen. The one that would call Ivy with one tap. A wave of something that felt an awful lot like fear pushed through him.
Just do it, Easton.
He did. One simple tap.
Another gulp slunk down his throat as he put it on speaker and waited for it to ring. It didn’t. Instead, a machine picked up. One of those automated recordings saying the mailbox was full.
Relief clashed with torment as he thumped the disconnect icon harder than necessary and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He stayed like that, mid-stride, as the torment won. Loving someone—or falling in love, as he was—was terrible. Why did anyone do it? Even if they did fix things now, even if Ivy had a perfectly good explanation, did he really want to get sucked in so deep that he couldn’t get out next time? What if this was his only chance to…to clear her out of his mind somehow?
The phone buzzed in his pocket, and Easton was quick to retrieve it. He anxiously tapped the screen. Was Ivy returning his call so soon?
No. It was another text from Marsha Langston.
Unknown Number: The countdown is on. You’ve got until the end of the night to accept my offer. My very generous offer, I should say. Do everyone a favor and take care of this situation. It will only get worse if you ignore it.
The end of the night, huh? Did that mean the show’s premier would air that evening? Is that why it’d be too late after that? Easton didn’t actually know when the start date was. Not that it mattered. He hated threats, and he didn’t like being pushed around either. Besides, he’d made himself an agreement, hadn’t he?
Yes, he had. He’d told himself he would not respond to anything until tomorrow. Sure, he’d tried to call Ivy after getting her text, but that was a mere moment of weakness. He was stronger now. And determined to let Marsha Langston’s deadline pass before he reached out.
With that, Easton powered off his phone, secured his gear, and headed back to his campsite.
Chapter 17
Ivy stared down at the small invite in her hand. Marsha had become very generous since their discussion about Easton the other day. Not only had she given Ivy her job back, she’d given her four premier tickets to tonight’s live production of Looking For Love. To prepare Ivy and her guests for the event, she’d gifted her and her guests a full-day spa treatment, lunch in the Spa’s Korean eatery included.
As her guests, Ivy had chosen her sister Jackie and her sisters-in-law Taya and Joelle. Already, they’d spent hours in the women’s bath house, enjoying body scrubs, facials, and foot rubs. They’d moved on to the steam room next, then hit several of the mineral heated huts on the way to lunch.
As if all of this wasn’t enough, Ivy had received yet another invitation from Marsha, courtesy of the waitress who’d delivered their food—oversized bowls of ramen noodles with boiled eggs, wontons, and egg rolls.
Jackie leaned over her as she took the card and opened it. “What does it say?”
Ivy read it aloud. “To finish this day of luxury, and to prepare you for tonight’s premier, I’ve provided a selection of gowns for you and your guests to choose from. They’re waiting at the famous Hair and Now Salon, where hair and makeup specialists await you.”
A unified squeal broke out over the table. “This is amazing, Ivy,” Taya said. “She must really value you as an assistant.”
“Seriously,” Joelle added. “I’m glad I’m not further along,” she said, giving her small belly a pat. “Already this day has been like a dream. And now we get to pick out formal gowns and get our hair and makeup done? I wish I had your job.”
Ivy grinned and set her eyes back on the card where Marsha’s signature was scrawled at the bottom. She couldn’t help but think the woman had something up her sleeve. She only wished it had something to do with Easton. It wouldn’t though. As big and broad as Ivy’s imagination might stretch, she couldn’t construct a scenario that would let Easton out of his contract. Beyond that, he’d have to actually show up first. And who knew when that would happen?
“Do you think Easton’s going to be there?” Jackie might have been the one to pose the question, but there was a collective interest among the table, evident in the way Taya and Joelle leaned in over their food.