Chapter 2
Hello, my hearts. I’m going to try something new with you this month. I hope you’ll enjoy this leap of faith I’m taking.
As quickly as I finish them, I’ll be posting chapters of my new novel. I’m calling it When Ivy Met Adam: A second chance, forced proximity, sexy, queer love-triangle romance. Your feedback is everything. Please post comments here or email me. I’ll be so excited to hear what you think.
In case you missed it, read earlier chapters here:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - Ivy
I’m crying so hard I cannot breathe.
“Ivy, please don’t cry,” Ali says for the ten billionth time.
I have been crying torrents of tears for two days. I cry because I know Ali is right. I sob for the loss of feeling happy, simply enjoying each other. I cry in the shower, on the couch, under the covers. I cry while she holds me close, and I cry while she sits stoically at her desk as far from me as we can manage in this tiny apartment.
Who does this? Who breaks up when they’re so in love? Who breaks up because it’s “best for both of us”?
“None of this makes sense,” I whine over a cup of coffee on the third morning after our dinner with my parents. It feels like a month, not a weekend. “Why?”
“Ivy, we’ve been over this. You are everything I could ever want,” she sounds as heartbroken as I feel. “And.” She takes a long pause here. “You are going to law school. I am going to medical school. For the next eight years, we will be completely useless to each other.”
“That’s not true,” I protest.
She kisses me softly. I lean in, but she leans back. “Please trust me, Ivy. It’s not you. It’s me.”
That’s all she’s been able to say all weekend. “It’s not you. It’s me.” Over and over. I want more. More explanation, more time together, more of Ali.
*
On Friday night, with bellies full of food yet ravenous for each other, Ali and I let ourselves into our apartment. The second I closed the door, putting steel between my parents and my real life, I attacked my woman. I was sliding her jacket off, kissing my way down her neck. She was slipping the straps of my dress down my arms, wrapping her hands around my breasts, teasing my nipples between her fingers. She knows my body better than I do. We were naked and on the bed in less than a minute.
“I love you, Ali,” I said into her skin.
“I’ll miss you so much, Ivy,” she said, on a pant. Record scratch.
“Wow.” I sat up. The room was spinning just a bit. Shock and alcohol. “Wow, Al. Is that where your head is? We’re not going to be that far apart.”
“Ivy, yes. We are. We will be that far apart.” She sat up too. She sounded grave. Pulling a pillow from behind her, she covered her chest. I didn’t want her to hide her tiny perfect perky breasts. I didn’t want her to hide from me at all. But this was not the time. Apparently.
“Ali, if my parents can fly here from Colorado to take us to dinner, you and I can visit each other as often as we like.”
“Ivy, we are not going to visit. We need to break up.” Just like that. So matter-of-fact. So cold.
I laughed—maybe a little maniacally. “Break up. Ha!” I laughed again. “After four years together, we’re going to break up. Right.”
“Ive, I’m serious.” She looked serious. Holy shit. She was serious. We were done.
*
“We should make the most of the time we have, Ivy,” she says, reaching for my hand.
I feel the magnetic pull toward her and a revulsion at the same time. “Yeah, of course. The time we have.” Fuck me.
