Page 45 of Saving Ian Pope

I woke up on my last full day in LA in high spirits, energized and focused. We’d spend the morning during the foggy hours at the museum, and then when the sun broke through in the afternoon, we’d have lunch in Malibu—not at Nobu—and maybe take a walk on the beach.

Ivy had risen before me and managed to sneak out of bed without making a sound. I grabbed my underwear, in case Chloe was home, and sauntered into the kitchen.

Ivy, her laptop in front of her on the table, snapped it shut, a frown twisting her mouth.

Coming up behind her, I ruffled her hair. “Still having problems with your book?”

“Writer’s block. Can’t figure out what comes next.” She pressed her hands on top of her computer, as if willing words to seep onto on the pages of her book.I’d been there.

“Come on my run with me. That always clears my head.”

“As long as you don’t sprint. I’m not gonna match your pace. I’d collapse.”

Cupping my hand under her chin, I tilted her head back to kiss her upside down. “I’ll never leave your side, Ivy.”

She ducked away from me and jumped up from her chair. “I’m going to take a quick shower first. Do you want to eat anything before we go?”

“I’ll grab a banana. I’m gonna skip the shower, so I’ll be ready when you are.”

When Ivy left the room, I checked my phone and swore when I saw the text from Jack. I tapped it and read the rest with a growing sense of dread creeping through my body like sludge. It always started with something small and innocuous like this—just innuendo. That’s how the dick pic scandal began, just gossip until the pictures went online. Maybe Chloe could track the source of these newest rumors and act preemptively.

I didn’t need this shit right now. Ivy already had her doubts about coming with me. If she got an inkling of another smear campaign against me on the horizon, it just might push her over the edge.

I texted Jack back that we could look into the issue when I returned to England. I didn’t understand my ex, Jessica. The pictures of me with Ivy in the tabloids must’ve set her off. She couldn’t possibly want me back. If she did, she had some odd reconciliation tactics.

I snapped a banana from the bunch and peeled it. I ate it in about four bites on my way to the bedroom. Ivy had finished her shower, and she almost fell over stepping into her running shorts as I surprised her.

“Careful you don’t hurt yourself before we even start running.” I put on some shorts and a tank and retrieved my trainers from the corner of the bedroom.

“Don’t forget your Dodger hat. And sunglasses.” She pulled open the blinds and pressed her nose against the window. “Even haze like this can make you squint. Maybe you should wear your running jacket. It looks chilly out there.”

Ever since the paparazzi ambush, Ivy suggested I cover up thoroughly every time we went out. She didn’t want to take any chances that I’d be recognized.

I gave her a mock salute. “Hat, sunglasses, but I really have to draw the line at the jacket. I’d be ripping it off less than a mile into the run.”

She paused adjusting her running bra and bugged her eyes out at me. “Mile? Just how far are we running? I think two miles is my max. I mean, three miles is a 5K race.”

“Okay, Miss Roadrunner. Two miles it is, but that’s down to the beach and back.”

Throwing my hat at me, she said, “We can jog down to the beach, and you can run around for another two miles while I have an ice cream at the pier, waiting for you.”

“That would absolutely defeat the purpose.”

“Yourpurpose, maybe.Mypurpose is to watch your sexy ass while you run ahead of me.”

Shaking my head, I said, “You and your dirty one-track mind.”

Ivy’s mood had brightened considerably since her jittery appearance in the kitchen this morning, and I planned to bask in it. Definitely not the time to mention this latest assault on my character. I didn’t like keeping things from her, but sometimes it was for the greater good, and the greater good was maintaining a light attitude for our last full day together.

Once she joined me in England, I could dump all the bad news on her.

***

Despite a bit of fan frenzy at the restaurant for lunch, the day lived up to my expectations. We laughed, joked, kissed, had a table with a view, kissed some more, held hands on the beach. A few times, I’d caught Ivy with a sad or pensive expression, but I put it down to my departure tomorrow.

I'd miss her, but we had an understanding that she’d join me in about a month. She had to finish her book, or close enough, and I had music to record...and another social media fire to extinguish. We’d be busy, and the time would fly. Once we nailed down the date for our reunion, she’d feel better—we both would. Maybe she doubted my commitment to her and this relationship, even though I’d spent the day talking about my home, my family, and my life in England. Maybe she feared I’d leave her like everyone else had left her. I had a lot to prove to her.

We returned to a quiet house. Apparently, Chloe had hightailed it down to San Diego to try to work things out with her boyfriend. I didn’t miss that kind of drama, and Ivy didn’t play the diva or high-maintenance queen.

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