Page 72 of Saving Ian Pope

I tapped my fingers on the stack of boxes next to me. I’d gotten so worried about Ivy wandering around London in her thin jacket, I’d called Sarah to bring some coats to the studio for her. Of course, I didn’t have a clue what size Ivy wore, but Sarah was able to figure it out from pictures and my description.

When the car dropped me off at my building, I balanced the three boxes in my arms and rode up the elevator, jabbing the button for the 32ndfloor over and over, as if the repeated motion would make it go faster. I burst through the door and dropped the boxes straight to the floor.

Ivy, standing at the window in the dark, twisted her head over her shoulder. In the muted light, her face was a pale oval, and her eyes huge.

“Thank God, you’re home.” I ate up the distance between us in two long strides and gathered her in my arms, squeezing, just to make sure she was real.

She squeaked, and I loosened my hold. “That’s some greeting.”

“Why are the lights out? Where have you been all day?” I ran my hands down her arms. “I was worried.”

“Worried? I was at the museum.” She scooted out of my embrace and flicked on the recessed lighting over the sofa, keeping her hand on the light switch in case she changed her mind and decided to cast us into darkness again.

“I expected some texts and pictures of the exhibit. I kept looking at my phone and—nothing.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You took The Tube, didn’t you?”

“I did. I enjoyed it.” She tipped her chin toward the boxes. “What’s in there?”

“Coats. That’s another thing. You were running around London all day in that ridiculous jacket, and it’s freezing outside. I had my stylist bring some coats to the studio.”

“Are you nuts? Who does that?” She gave the boxes a side-eye. “I can shop for my own coat.”

I cocked my head and studied her closed-off face. Looked like she’d had a bad day. “Well, you weren’t doing it, and Sarah had some stuff to show me for the upcoming tour, anyway. From what I described, she was able to figure out a size for you. I picked out three coats, so you can return what doesn’t fit. Do you want to try them on?”

“Um, sure.” She finally gave up her dominion over the light switch and moved toward the back rooms. “Bring the coats and follow me to the bedroom. I-I have something to show you in there, anyway.”

I quirked my eyebrows up and down. “Tinkerbell, I’ve seen it all before.” I couldn’t raise a smile from her, so I gathered the boxes in my arms and staggered into the bedroom. The coats seemed to get heavier each time I carried them. I placed them on the floor, in a row.

She perched on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped between her knees, her head down. Her long hair created a shield around her face, hiding it from me.

I sat next to her, and her shoulder bumped mine as the mattress dipped. She inched away from me. It felt like miles. Hooking a finger around her thick hair, I pulled back the curtain. “Did something happen today? You said you had something to show me.”

“Yeah. I-I found something this morning.”

The blood drained from my head so fast, I felt dizzy. “Online? You found something online?”

Her head jerked to the side, and her nostrils flared. “No, right here in this bedroom.”

My gaze darted around the room wildly, desperately searching for the thing that had caused my warm sunshine to be replaced by this ice princess. “What?”

She bounced a little and said, “I found it underneath the bed, and I left it there.”

Took me a half second to drop to my knees and peer beneath the bed. I reached for the black knickers and dragged them out. Holding them with my fingertips, I asked, “Are they yours?”

“They’re not mine. I hate thongs.” She gathered her hair into a ponytail with one hand. “I mean, yeah, sometimes the outfit requires a thong, but usually I don’t wear them. So, no. Not mine.”

I dropped the knickers, understanding punching me in the gut. “They’re not mine.”

She lifted her feet up, away from the offensive thong on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I didn’t think they wereyours.”

Still crouching beside the bed, I fell back on my bum. “You know what I mean. They don’t belong to anyone I know, at least, not well.”

Ivy’s mouth dropped open, and she hugged her legs tighter.

“Wait. That’s not what I meant, either.” I dragged a hand through my hair. She didn’t really believe I’d had another woman up here. “Can I explain?”

“I’m waiting, but you’re doing a shit job of it so far.”

I stayed on the floor. “Both times I relapsed I told you they happened here. The first time was with some old...friends. The second time was when we had a late session in the studio, and I invited a couple of the guys, a couple of the musicians, back to my place—Denny, who you met, and Giles, who plays keyboards. They picked up some booze on the way—the whiskey, the champagne, and some beer.”

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