Page 50 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
I pressed my palms against the concrete, feeling the rough texture bite into my skin. The honest answer sat heavy in my chest, too raw to voice easily.
"I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something," I said finally. "And I'm about to get my heart broken again."
"Duncan…"
"I know how that sounds. But Meranda taught me that people lie. They pretend to be someone they're not, they make you believe in something that isn't real, and then they destroyyou when it serves their purpose." The words came out bitter, edged with old pain I thought I'd buried. "What if I'm doing it again? What if I'm seeing what I want to see instead of what's actually there?"
"What if you're not?" Nick's voice was gentle but firm. "What if she's exactly who she appears to be, and you're sabotaging yourself because you're scared?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
"Look," Nick continued, "I've seen you with a lot of women over the years. You've never talked about any of them the way you talk about Ivy. Maybe that's worth fighting for instead of running from."
"Maybe," I grunted. "I gotta go, man." Nick started to say something else but I hung up, too impatient with myself to stand there listening to yet another lecture. I stayed on the rooftop for another hour, watching the city move beneath me. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust, and I finally headed back downstairs to my office.
The emails were still waiting, but I ignored them. Instead, I pulled up the guest list for Saturday's fundraiser. The annual charity gala for the children's hospital—formal attire, seven-course dinner, the kind of event I usually attended alone and left early.
This year felt different.
I reached for my phone before I could second-guess myself, and dialed Ivy's number. Maybe this year I wouldn’t have to go stag.
"Hi." Ivy's voice was soft when she answered, slightly breathless as if she'd been running.
"Hi. Are you busy?"
"Just handling dinner…." I heard her say something to someone in the background, then a door closing. "Sorry, what's up?"
"I have a company function this weekend. Saturday night. It's formal—a fundraiser for the children's hospital."
"That sounds nice." Her voice dropped to a low flirty tone and I pictured her smiling.
"I want you to come with me," I told her. I figured announcing it rather than asking would show her how I really felt.
The silence lasted long enough that I wondered if the call had dropped. When she spoke again, her voice was careful and uncertain. "Duncan, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"It's a company event. People will see us together. They'll talk."
"Let them talk." I leaned back in my chair, surprised by how much I wanted this. "Ivy, I'm the CEO. I can invite anyone I want to these things. But this isn't about the company. This is personal."
Another pause. "I don't have anything to wear to something like that, and what if my father finds out?"
"I'll take care of it."
"That's not?—"
"Please," I said, cutting her off so she couldn’t give me excuses. I was desperate to help her see how good we could be together. "It matters to me. Having you there, on my arm, matters to me."
I could hear her breathing, could almost feel her internal struggle through the phone. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes. I'll go with you."
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by something else—anticipation mixed with fear. After we hung up, I sat at my desk for a long time, staring out at the darkening sky.
