Page 8 of Saving Ian Pope

Turning at my approach, he held up the photo. “This is nice. You and your father at your graduation from UCLA?”

“Yeah.” I pointed at the two bottles of water on the kitchen table. “I see you found the water.”

He nodded. “Did your mum take the picture?”

“She was long gone by then.”

Placing the photo back on the bookshelf, he said, “I’m so sorry.”

I looked up from transferring items from my tote to the cross-body bag pinned to my side with my elbow. “Oh, she’s not dead. She abandoned us years before I went to college.”

“Still sorry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Does your father live nearby?”

“He’sthe dead one.” As I slipped the strap over my head, I saw his confused and slightly stricken face. He must think I’m cold as ice. “I mean, yeah, my father passed away not long after that picture was taken.”

“I-I’m...” he thought better of saying sorry again and sputtered, “...th-that’s too bad.”

I turned my back on him and adjusted my cross-body bag. His words floated over my shoulder, but I had no intention of getting into my past or explaining myself. I’d already revealed too much. I asked, “Are you ready?”

“I could use the loo.”

I pointed to the first door on the right-hand side of the hallway. “You can use Chloe’s. Hers is the public one. Mine’s attached to my bedroom—perks of owning the place. Chloe won’t mind, as long as you put down the toilet seat.”

He crossed his heart with the tip of his finger. “I promise. I grew up with three sisters, so I’ve been trained.”

As he shut the door behind him, I grabbed the waters and leaned against the wall by the front door, arms folded. Should I text Chloe and tell her what was happening? Chloe would probably just confuse me even more, but maybe my best friend had a better idea about what was going on with him right now.

Didn’t Ian have a girlfriend? I knew he had a daughter. Oh, God, yes, he had a daughter with that beautiful English soap actress Sasha. I’d almost forgotten about that. He’d been quite young at the time, and Sasha had about ten years on him. Did he like cougars?

I jumped when he swung open the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway.

He approached me and took the water bottles from where I’d tucked them against my body, his thumb brushing my under-boob. Had he done that on purpose? He said, “I’ve got those.”

The boobs or the water?

He also got the door, opening it for me. As I skirted past him, he patted the top of my head. “Did you shrink?”

Kicking up one of my flipflop-clad feet behind me, I said, “Just swapped out the heels for flats. I know. It’s a shock.”

Once outside, I leaned my forehead against the door as I locked the deadbolt. Ugh, he probably dated leggy models with a good seven inches on me.

“I’d call it a nice surprise. No matter how high your heels, you’ll never be taller than me.” He flipped one of the water bottles into the air, catching it and grinning at me.

I doubted I’d ever have the chance to wear heels with him again. He’d already mentioned he was leaving the day after tomorrow. Knowing this would be my first and last time with Ian Pope freed me.

Might as well enjoy it and go out with a bang—with any luck.

Chapter 4

IVY

I slid into a parking spot in the public lot next to the pier. I’d timed our visit perfectly—just as families were leaving after a day at the beach and before the teens and young adults descended on the pier for the rides and illicit nighttime activities on the beach.

As we got out of the car, Ian tipped his head back. “I guess I didn’t realize the pier had funfair rides.”

“The rides have been around for about twenty-five years, and the carousel inside is from the original pier in 1916.” I gestured toward the wooden steps leading down the sand. “You wanna take a walk on the beach?”

“Lead the way. It’s like being with a tour guide.” He adjusted his cap, keeping his sunglasses in place.

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