Hold Me Tight(3)

I crouch against the mahogany door, listening. Tim seemed friendly enough when he rolled out the welcome mat. It wasn’t hard to fall for his charm. All I wanted to do was wrap his hospitality around me like a warm, fuzzy blanket, especially after my encounter with Ryan. But all bets were off once he said who he was. It was all simply a ploy to get me to trust him, even if I can’t stop craving that mug of hot cocoa I spied next to the fireplace. I could really use something to warm me up.

It’s cold up here, considering I closed the bedroom door, barricading myself inside. Tim didn’t come after me. He left me alone. It’s not like I’m a flight risk. He knows I don’t have anywhere else to go. But now he’s waiting on the other side of the door. The floorboards creak as he shuffles around, unsure of what to do. I want to hate him for bragging about what he did—mocking me over how he was going to be the star of Lauren’s screenplay, taunting me about his relationship with Cassidy. But until then, he didn’t seem that aggressive. He even offered me his arm while I took off my soggy boots.

“Ivy, are you all right in there?”

His voice resonates against the wood, rich and deep. I feel it in my bones. It’s a voice that turns women into a pile of mush. But I hesitate. Lauren sent me here. I can’t take anything at face value. I have to remain vigilant.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

My mouth is dry. I could use a drink of water, and hunger is gnawing at me. I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday. I brush my hair away from my forehead. I can’t think about what Eric hid in the bottom of that McDonald’s bag. It’ll only make me start crying again.

“Someone from the Gazette dropped off a care package for you. Some maternity clothes, toiletries, even a laptop. I can leave it right outside your door, if you want, but—”

“But?”

“You must be starving, so I got up early and made you something. Eating for two, you have to keep up your strength.”

“And what would you know about that?”

“Well, the girls I coach tend to get pretty ravenous after swim practice. I can only imagine what being pregnant is like.”

“Funny, I didn’t know you were such an expert on women.”

“I’m around them all the time…or I used to be. I can’t help it if I picked up a few pointers along the way.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Women will do anything for chocolate.”

I groan audibly.

“You all go crazy over shoes.”

I don’t say anything as I flash back to the day I tried on every pair of clogs in Riverside Gardens. I feel my heart constrict as the clock chimes eight times. Eric must be worried sick by now. I should text him. At least let him know that I’m okay.

“You also do hairbrained things like listen to the Prices.”

“What?”

Okay, that got my attention. I throw open the door to find Tim leaning casually against the doorframe, a plate of cookies wedged against his hip.

“I thought you said you fixed me something to eat.”

“I did. Don’t pregnant women crave sweets at every hour of the day?”

“You know way too much about pregnant women.”

“Well, I was around one for a while.”

My stomach drops, and I take a step back.

He notices my reaction, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s a long story, Ivy. One I’d rather not get into right now.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, staring him down.

“Listen, we’ve got all the time in the world to hash things out, considering we’re going to be living together for the next couple of months. You had a hard day yesterday. So at least let me feed you before you start arguing with me.” He gives me a tentative smile.

“Fine. Have it your way. I am your prisoner after all.”

I retreat, fumbling with the key in the antique hurricane lamp until it casts a warm glow throughout the room. It’s a raw and cloudy November morning, and as much as I’m loath to admit, it does feel nice and cozy in Tim’s house, especially now that the heat is coming in from down below. I try not to picture myself typing away while sitting at the rolltop desk near the window. But if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well make the most of it.

“My home is not a prison, Ivy.” Tim holds out the plate, sitting on the bed next to me.

I can’t resist, taking one of the giant, dark chocolate cookies. I hold back a sigh. It’s still warm.

He chuckles as I immediately start to devour it. “See? Chocolate works every time.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I retort between mouthfuls.