Page 77 of Barre Fight
Half an hour later, her dad slid the back door open and he and Luke came inside, each bearing a steaming plate in each hand. After setting his plate down, Ivy’s dad enveloped her in a tight hug and told her all about the print copy of theTimes, which had arrived three days after it was published and cost him twice as much as hers had cost her in New York. She smiled and thanked him, deciding to let her mum break the news to him.
They sat down and her dad served her mum first, as always, and kissed her, as always, and Ivy watched the ritual with her usual fondness, accompanied today by a pang of something new. A longing fused with a hopefulness. She had always wanted this kind of old, durable romance, she knew. But today she wanted it with someone specific. Someone who—she slipped her phone from her pocket surreptitiously—had left her bed at dawn this morning and hadn’t been in touch since.
Next to her, Luke was shoving food in his mouth. George watched him for a moment, his expression a mixture of disgusted and impressed, before turning to Ivy. “So, our conquering heroine. Tell us about New York.”
“Yes, tell us everything,” her mother said eagerly.
“It was great . “The company looked so good, we sold out the run, and I had lots of time to see the city when I wasn’t working.”
“Did you get to see a Broadway show?” her father asked.
“I did.” Ivy grinned. “Kiss Me, Kate. It was even better than I thought it would be. Probably my favourite night of the whole trip.” She thought about Justin, seated next to her in the fading house lights, admitting that he liked her. As if the tickets to a Broadway show hadn’t already told her that. She flushed and took a sip of her white wine, avoiding George’seyes.
“And I saw a viral video of that dancer’s proposal on stage,” her mother added. “That must have been pretty exciting.”
“Yeah, people loved it,” Ivy said. And it had resulted in yet more positive press for the company, first with people on social media declaring it “couple goals” and then a handful of headlines declaring Izzy’s proposal the height of romance.
“Well, the company must love you. Look at what a great job you’ve done for them.”
“Absolutely smashed it,” her father agreed. “I think I used that correctly, didn’t I?” He looked to Luke for confirmation, and Luke nodded, his mouth still so full he could barely close it.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from our golden girl,” George said, his tone skirting the line between admiration and envy.
“We’re so proud of you, darling,” her mother added. “You picked yourself right up and made a success of this, just like you have of everything else. You’re amazing.”
“Amazing,” echoed Luke, who had finally swallowed.
Ivy opened her mouth to reply, but all she managed was a shrug and a closed-mouth smile. The company was pleased with her; Peter had declared the tour a total success and told her that the board was thrilled and considering scheduling another tour to New York in two years, instead of waiting the usual ten.
But Ivy hoped she wouldn’t be part of it. The thought jolted her and for a moment she lost the thread of what her parents were saying. George was giving Luke a hard time for claiming a second piece of steak, but their bickering faded into the background as she stared down at her plate and the food she’d barely touched.
She didn’t want to do this anymore. Had she ever wanted to do it? Or had she simply grabbed at the first job presented to her and made a success of it through sheer will and fear of failure?She knew what Em would say, and worse, she couldn’t avoid the suddenly overwhelming suspicion that Em was right.
But god, her parents were so proud. Their golden girl, Georgie had called her, and it wasn’t the first time.
Ivy set her fork down as tears threatened, hot and prickling behind her eyes. She had no right to cry. She had a good job that she was good at, and it kept a roof over her head, and she had a family that loved and supported her no matter what she did, and… when she thought about sticking around and doing PR for ANB for the next two years, her stomach dropped, a deep pit forming beneath her ribs. Her brain went blank and buzzy with an odd combination of boredom and panic, and those tears went from threatening to gathering.
Staring down at her plate, she willed them not to fall. But of course, her mother had noticed them anyway. “What’s wrong, darling?”
Ivy cleared her throat and looked up to find them all looking at her. Concern creased her father’s forehead, and her mother leaned across the table and squeezed her hand.
“I’m just thinking about Opa,” Ivy said. And it wasn’t strictly a lie. She had been thinking about him a lot lately. “He would have loved New York. That show, especially. I miss him.”
“Yeah,” her dad said quietly. “I think he would have. And he would have been proud of what you did over there, too.”
For god’s sake. Ivy looked at her father, feeling half desperate. The buzzy blankness in her head had been replaced by something loud and urgent, like an alarm sounding so loudly that surely everyone else could hear it, too. Perhaps something of what she was feeling showed on her face, because her father’s frown deepened, and then he lifted his napkin from his lap and set it next to his plate. He flicked a glance at her mother, then looked back at Ivy.
“Boys, go clean the barbeque for me, would you, please?”
“I’m still eating,” Luke objected through a mouthful of vegetables.
“Your food’ll be here when you’re done,” Ivy’s mother said.
“Because no one else could possibly eat that much,” George muttered. “Off you go, Lukie.”
Luke swallowed and stood, giving his brother a look that was the equivalent of a middle finger.
“You too, please, George.”
