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

117

<

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.

says, holding out the wine and the

sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters

2/7

Ava: Dinner With Ivy

“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, even as I eye the clothes curiously.

I could do. You’re

of something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it makes

meaning it despite my reservations. “That’s really kind of you.”

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

but it’s understandable, Selene says, yawning from her spot on the couch. She’s still binge–watching her mind–numbing

on the counter. “Why don’t you make yourself

roturna mu amila and

12:34

317

Dinner

and leaning back. Selene sniffs her in greeting, and Ivy reaches out to pat her head in a ginger sort of

me snort. Inside my head, of course. I wouldn’t do that

kitchen, trying to ignore the way her gaze seems

the food is plated, and I carry our dishes. to the table. “Here we are,” I say, setting a plate in front of Ivy before taking my

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

and conversational. “Tell me

fork. “There’s not much to tell,” I deflect, keeping my tone

12:34

417

<

Dinner With Ivy

not really

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to pry into painful memories.”

a reassuring smile.

I haven’t heard from her before. “Clayton and I lost our parents when we were young,

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

For the first time since meeting her, I feel like I’m seeing the real Ivy–not the polished one that seems to be weighing my

smile, giving my hand

alpha because