Tangled

54 Ava: Dinner With Ivy

Music drifts through the kitchen, courtesy of my phone, as I chop garlic, enjoying the sharp aroma. Cooking has always been a comfort to me, a way to lose myself in the simple tasks and let my mind wander. As I toss minced garlic into the pan heating over the stove, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace settle over me, if only momentarily.”

I’ve set up the phone Clayton gave me, and texted him and Ivy to let them know it was working. Neither responded, which is fine by me. I set up the burner phone, too, and texted Lisa with updates. She did respond, and her spam of emojis have lightened the load on my heart. I texted Mrs. Elkins, letting her know I’m safe and begging her not to talk to anyone about me. Mrs. Elkins assured me my job is safe whenever I

can come home, which is even more of a relief.

My little paradise is waiting for me, which makes it so much easier to be stuck here right now.

A knock at the door startles me from my reverie. I glance at the clock, wondering who could be here at

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54 Ava: Dinner With Ivy

this hour. Wiping my hands on a towel, I make my way to the door, peering through the peephole.

It’s Ivy.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever interaction awaits me. There’s something about Ivy that always puts me on edge, a subtle undercurrent of something that I can’t quite place. Still, I paste on a polite smile and open the door..

“Ivy, hi,” I greet her, trying to keep my tone casual.

“Ava,” she says, her smile bright but somehow not quite reaching her eyes. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” I assure her, stepping aside to let her in. “I was just making dinner.”

As she enters, I notice the bottle of wine in her hand and the shopping bag slung over her arm. My brow furrows slightly, but I say nothing, waiting for her to explain.

took the liberty of picking up a few things for you,” Ivy says, holding out the wine and the bag. “A little something to help you settle

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Dinner

to do that,” I murmur, even as

dismissive hand. “It’s the least I could do. You’re

finger on it, but it makes me uneasy. Still, I force a

say, meaning it despite my reservations.

and for a moment, I wonder if I’m reading too much into things. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. The Moon Goddess knows

her spot on

on the counter. “Why don’t you make

mu amila and cinka

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Ava: Dinner

out to pat her head in a ginger sort of way, almost like she’s worried

image makes me snort. Inside my head, of course. I wouldn’t do that where she can

ignore the way her gaze seems

the table. “Here we are,” I say, setting a

for her fork. We eat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft

“Tell me a little about yourself. Your

my fork. “There’s not much

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Dinner

not really around anymore.”

with what seems like genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to

my head, offering her a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, you didn’t

again, her voice tinged with a melancholy I haven’t heard from her before. “Clayton and I lost our parents when we were young, too,” she confides, her gaze dropping to the table. “It’s not an

the table, her hand covering mine in a gentle squeeze. I blink, surprised by the unexpected

since meeting her, I feel like

giving my hand one

because