Page 84 of His Orders

It sounds like such a clean word for something so messy.

“And what if she wants more than closure?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is. I just want to end it properly. So it’s not something still hanging over me.”

I want to say no. I want to tell him she doesn’t deserve another second of his time. But I can’t do that. Not without becoming the thing I fought so hard to escape. I can’t trap him, even with my fear. Even with my love.

“If you think it’ll help, then go,” I say softly, folding my hands in my lap to hide the tremble.

He watches me for a long moment, like he’s trying to read between the words. Like he knows this hurts and doesn’t know how to stop it.

“Ivy…”

“No,” I say gently. “It’s okay. I get it. Just… be careful with your heart. It’s already been broken once.”

His eyes soften. He reaches for my hand, lifts it to his lips, presses a kiss to the back of it with a kind of reverence that makes my throat close.

“I’m not going back,” he says. “Whatever she says, whatever happens, I’m not going back.”

But he’s still meeting her for coffee. And that’s enough to splinter something inside me, even if I smile and nod and pretend I’m fine. I kiss him once more before he gets up to clean the dishes. I listen to the water run in the kitchen, to the sound of plates being rinsed and stacked.

Ethan leaves just after eight. The morning sun hasn’t even fully burned through the mist that lingers outside the windows, casting the city in a pale, ghosted light. I watch him from the couch, mug warm between my palms, steam rising in thin, curling tendrils. He adjusts his tie in the mirror, eyes scanning his reflection, then glances back at me.

“I’ll be back after the meeting,” he says. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Okay. Drive safe.”

He hesitates, like maybe he’s going to say something else. But instead he just crosses the room and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I close my eyes as his lips linger, trying not to inhale too deeply, not to memorize the warmth of that touch. Thenhe’s gone, coat swinging, shoes tapping softly across the tile. The door clicks shut behind him.

I finish my tea slowly, then rinse the mug and change into something casual. A soft sweater, jeans that still button if I don’t breathe too deeply. I need air. I need answers. I need Drew.

When I arrive at his apartment, Blair opens the door with her usual glow. Her eyes flick over me once and something in her face softens immediately. She steps back and waves me in.

“Drew’s in the study,” she says quietly. “Come. Let’s sit outside.”

I follow her through the sunlit kitchen and out into the patio. The garden is blooming with early winter herbs and the last clinging petals of autumn. The air is cool but not sharp, and the bench cushions are warm from the morning sun. Blair hands me a blanket, and we sit in silence for a moment, the calm interrupted only by the occasional chirp of birds or the rustle of wind across the fence.

“You want to tell me why your face looks like that?” Blair finally asks, her tone light but kind.

I laugh, or try to. It comes out brittle. “That obvious?”

“You’ve got that look I had when I found out Drew kept a secret credit card to buy extra sports subscriptions.”

I shake my head, tucking the blanket tighter around my waist. “Ethan’s ex is back in town.”

Blair’s eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t speak. She waits.

“She asked to meet for coffee,” I continue. “And he said yes. Said it might be good. For closure.”

“And you’re worried he’s not just going for closure.”

“I’m worried,” I say, voice low, “that I’m not enough. That after everything, he might realize he still wants someone else. Or worse, that he’s still broken in places I can’t reach.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

The back door opens then, footsteps on the deck. Drew steps out, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his gaze already narrowed.