“But you don’t despise me as much as you did now that you know what a good baker I am,” he teases, his dimples on full display.
“You really enjoy showing off, don’t you?” I lick my fingers and reach for another one.
“It’s the competitor in me. I don’t mean anything by it.” He shrugs, lifting the plate off his lap so I can grab cookie number two. As he leans into me, I try not to pay attention to the fact that his leg is touching mine.
“Well, why does a jock like you know how to bake?”
“Necessity, mainly. There are a lot of birthdays throughout the school year. I got sick of forking over twenty bucks for a cake every time a girl on the team turned a year older.”
“But how do you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to a cookie?”
“Are you kidding? My birthday cookies are legendary. Stick a candle in the middle and you’re all set.” He snatches one for himself, shoving nearly the whole thing in his mouth.
“Only a guy would think of something like that.”
It takes him a minute to chew and swallow. “Yeah, but they’re way better than some random sheet cake, aren’t they?” He gently pokes me in the ribs. I roll my eyes as I grab my third. “See? I knew you’d like them.”
“But cookies aside, I’m dying to know how a nice guy like you got mixed up with Lauren.”
His smile vanishes as he tries to collect himself, brushing away some imaginary crumbs. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that just yet.”
“That’s funny. I thought we weren’t going to talk about Cassidy. You didn’t say anything about Lauren.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he glances at me quickly before looking away. “Ivy, there’s so much you’re not aware of. Eric, Cassidy, and myself—we’ve lived here all our lives. There’s a lot of history between us. Things happened in the past that you weren’t around to witness. For the time being, just know that I’m not out to hurt you. I’ve already lost someone dear to me in a similar situation. All I want to do is help you…if you’ll let me.”
“Tim, you already destroyed the man I love once,” I respond heatedly. “How do I know you’re not out to do it again? I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”
Tim exhales before getting to his feet. His thermal shirt is clinging to the dips and curves of his chest, while his sweatpants hang loosely on his hips. Lauren has definitely placed temptation in the guise of a friend.
He sets the plate next to the lamp, his hair catching the light. The chlorine has bleached the ends, but his dark roots are coming through—no doubt a reflection of the time he’s spent away from the pool.
How can he be doing this for Lauren if her stepfather is the one who got him fired? What does she have on him? Tim’s sense of loyalty is misplaced, but the thing is—I think he knows it. So why is he going along with her scheme and letting me stay here?
“Get some rest, Ivy,” Tim says, his back turned, the breadth of his shoulders filling the doorway. “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I feel more alone than ever. I don’t know what to make of Tim. Is he an ally or a threat? The longer I stay with him, the more it’s going to hurt Eric. I should be waking up next to the father of my child, not shacking up with the guy who slept with his dead fiancée.
That’s when I realize…Eric’s never going to forgive me for this.
I pull down the comforter and climb between the crisp sheets, trying to block out the last twenty-four hours. I bury my face against the pillow, shivering as my arms instinctively cradle my baby bump.
This is why I’m doing this—for the sake of our baby. I’m going to protect it, no matter what. Even if it costs me the man I love, the man I’ll always love. Because I know what it feels like to have a mother who doesn’t care, and there’s no way I’m following in her footsteps.
Because I am nothing like her—my child will always come first.
Chapter Three
Eric
Jesus, would she just leave already?
I’m spying on Lauren through the binoculars I found in the woodshed, trying not to think about how they were hidden under Will’s freakin’ kimono. I squint my eyes. Nope, she’s still at her desk. Her Mercedes is the only car left in the Gazette’s lot. Everyone else has gone home for the night. But the Wicked Witch is still at it, putting her nose to the grindstone.
I sit back and rub my temples. It’s been two days since Ivy ran away and I’m no closer to finding her. I’ve barely slept. I’ve hardly eaten. All I’ve been doing is tailing Lauren. She’s going to have to visit Ivy eventually, and when she does, I’m going to be right behind her. There’s no way I can sit back and do nothing—not when I haven’t heard a single word from Ivy. Lauren claimed she didn’t confiscate her phone, but God only knows if she’s telling the truth. Maybe she said it just to unsettle me, making me believe that Ivy could contact me but is choosing not to.