Jennifer J. Coldwater

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Chapter 15 (New)

After a break to reconfigure some things, Ivy is back!

Thanks for tuning in as I post chapters of my new novel 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 love hearing what you think.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapters 8&9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 (old)

Chapter 15 - Ivy 

I’ve just checked out of my room and my bags are already in the shuttle when I get the first indicator the fit is hitting the shan. My phone is blowing up. A notification from the airline, a panic text from my sister, and a National Weather Service alert hit within seconds of each other. 

“It rains here nearly every day. Why are severe storms an issue all of a sudden?” I ask no one. 

“Tropical storms are a real thing, Ivy,” Adam says. Where the hell did he come from? “The airports are closed. Hell, the roads are closed. You’re not going anywhere.” He looks delighted. Damn him. 

Of course an airport-closing storm hits just after I’ve already delivered all my notes (and brownie cakes) and my ultimatum to Adam. I told this man in no uncertain terms exactly what I expected from him. Time. Space. Patience. Now this storm has stolen all three from me. 

And, of course, the hotel is fully booked (especially now that no one can leave). I spend nearly an hour troubleshooting this problem with the girl at the desk. 

“Ivy, c’mon,” Adam pleads. “You can stay with me.” One hundred percent because that gets him what he wants (time together and no space whatsoever). Lord, grant me patience to put up with this fool. 

I sigh. I look at the patient woman at the reception desk of the hotel. This is obviously not her fault, and her day just got a whole lot worse. I say to her, because I cannot say it to Adam, “Genessa,” we’ve been talking so long about options for me to spend the night—I just checked out like forty-four minutes ago!—that I know her name, “I’ll stay with Dr. Lopez. Unless that’s against the rules?” I am hopeful she’ll put the kibosh on the idea. 

“That’s an excellent solution, Miss Gardiner.” She is beaming, but her eyes are tired. 

Well, fuck me. Fine. “Yes. Okay. Well, then.” I turn to look at Adam, but he’s already retrieving my bags from the shuttle. And I have to smile. He’s so happy and excited—if he were a retriever, he’d be wagging his tail. But instead he’s a handsome, professional, single man willing to rescue me (there’s that word again, goddammit). Again. Fine. 

“Ready?” His smile is ear-to-ear. 

Mine is reluctant. “Sure,” I say, shaking my head. 

We get to his little apartment at the far, far side of the hotel. It looks like part of the resort, but really not. Like it wasn’t included in the most recent renovation or something. Out of date, not quite luxurious. But still all Hawaii and, well, kind of homey. 

“It’s cute.”

“It’s free.” He carries my bags into a bedroom. 

I follow. “Wow. A two-bedroom apartment for free? That’s a nice perk.”

“One.”

Wait. What? “One what?” I feel my eyebrows try to crawl into each other. One what?

“This is a one-bedroom apartment.” His nonchalance will be the death of me. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, already heading back out to the main part of the apartment. 

Dude. What? No. “I can’t share a bed with you. I don’t know you,” I protest. 

He turns to face me. The look on his face is like I’m insane. But when he sees the look on my face, he steps to me, eyes softening. “Ivy,” he takes my hands in his. “You’ve shared a bed with me a thousand nights. Close your eyes.”

I glare at him. 

“Please, Ivy, try.” Adam isn’t asking. He’s insisting. 

Fine. I’ll try. I close my eyes. 

“Picture yourself in our room in our apartment, senior year,” he says. His voice is deep and rich, and with my focus on it, it sends shivers down my spine. “Imagine yourself in our bed. Eyes closed just like now.” I feel him move closer to me. I can feel the heat of him. The storm rages outside. We’re face to face, but I feel his warmth envelop me completely. An encircling hug without touch. “Ivy, who is lying next to you?”

I am tempted to open my eyes. To glare at him. To be angry and hurt. But, of course, he’s right. “You are.” 

He moves his hands up my arms to my shoulders. Holding me gently, he asks, “How do you know?”

I give in. I lean in to his touch. Because I remember. “I have always known. You were always Adam.” I open my eyes to look at the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with since I was eighteen years old. “Adam.”

“Hi,” he smiles his sexy, bearded, perfect smile. 

“Hi.”