Ivy Series Teacher Student Romance - Boxed Set: Romance Boxed Sets for Kindle Unlimited (Ivy Series - Teacher Student Romance Book 7)

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘No,’ I laugh.

  ‘You need a nanny. Is that cream?’ Tanya pulls the blue-china cream jug towards her. ‘And I want in. What’s the problem? Unless … do you feel like I wouldn’t do a good job or something?’

  ‘No! Not at all.’ I take another sip of tea. ‘You love Ivy. I couldn’t think of anyone better, actually.’

  ‘So?’ Tanya forks pecan tart into her mouth. ‘Do I get the gig or not?’

  I smile. ‘Of course. I’d love you to be Ivy’s nanny.’

  ‘Hazaar!’ Tanya does a little victory wiggle with her elbows. ‘Now then … is there any clotted cream here? Or is this place too posh for that? Wait a minute. Soph, why are you frowning?’

  ‘Oh, just … Marc’s not keen on me doing the movie,’ I admit. ‘So I still have that battle to contend with.’

  ‘He’ll come around.’ Tanya spoons cream onto her plate.

  ‘I suppose he’ll have to now,’ I say. ‘I’ve just found myself a nanny.’

  Denise puts a warm hand over mine. ‘I’ve known Marc a long time. When he sees how happy you are to be acting again, he’ll understand. I’m sure it.’

  I nod and paste on a smile. But inside, I’m not so sure.

  When Marc comes home, I’m in the kitchen taking roast chicken out of the oven.

  As I’m lifting the meat onto a board with a long fork, I feel Marc kiss me on the head.

  ‘Restaurant Sophia is back open?’ he asks, his voice low.

  I turn to him. ‘That’s the most you’ve said to me all week.’

  ‘I’ve had a lot to do in London.’ He slides his hands into his pockets. ‘And I thought you needed some thinking space.’

  ‘I’ve definitely had time to think,’ I tell him, lifting roast potatoes from the oven and pushing the door closed with my foot.

  ‘I feared as much. Here – let me.’ Marc takes the tray.

  I watch him, so handsome in his black suit, putting the tray on the kitchen table.

  ‘I found a nanny today,’ I blurt out.

  Marc’s shoulders stiffen. He drops the oven gloves on the table and walks to the window, hands sliding back into his pockets.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ I ask.

  Marc doesn’t turn. ‘What is there to say? You’ve made a decision expressly against my wishes. And involved our child in that decision.’

  ‘Marc, please. I haven’t been myself recently. You know that. This is my way of learning and growing. Of becoming myself again.’

  ‘Three months after you’ve had a child?’ He’s still looking out at the garden.

  ‘Yes.’ I walk around the breakfast bar and stand beside him. ‘If you want to put it that way. Look – Tanya has agreed to be Ivy’s nanny. Could you think of anyone more perfect?’

  ‘Tanya is an actress, not a nanny,’ Marc snaps.

  ‘She did childcare before Ivy College.’ I put a tentative hand on his arm. ‘She has all the qualifications. And she really wants to do it.’

  Marc tips his head back, closing his eyes. ‘Christ. I thought you’d have learned from your mistakes by now.’

  ‘What mistakes?’ My hand drops from his arm.

  ‘Do I need to spell them out?’ He turns to me, crossing his arms. ‘Throwing yourself into a musical you weren’t ready for. Taking on an extremely adult movie role. Before you’d even done a regular movie.’

  ‘It was you who encouraged me to open myself up,’ I say. ‘You pushed me to find my passionate side in front of an audience. Or had you forgotten?’

  ‘I hadn’t forgotten. I just didn’t realise you’d be playing it out so soon. And without my guidance.’

  I take a step back from him. ‘Why don’t you admit what this is really about, Marc? You’re jealous. You don’t want me working with Benjamin.’

  ‘Oh, it’s Benjamin now, is it?’ His eyes flash with anger. ‘I didn’t realise the two of you were on first name terms.’

  I shake my head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Marc. I’ve never even met him.’

  ‘Yet. Christ, you’re my wife, Sophia. I’m supposed to have some say in your decisions.’

  ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do. I know what’s best for me.’

  ‘No. You don’t.’ His arms are still crossed. ‘As you’ve proved on many occasions.’

  I go back to the oven, kneeling to check on the vegetables. ‘Are you going to dredge up every mistake I’ve ever made?’

  ‘If needs be.’

  ‘Anyway, I am following your advice.’ I stand, turning to face him. ‘You were the one who said I was being stifled. And you were the one who insisted we try out a nanny.’

  Marc shakes his head. ‘How silly of me.’

  ‘There’s no point arguing about this anymore.’ I pick up a carving knife and start slicing the chicken, but I’m so furious I end up hacking at it. ‘I want to do this movie, Marc. That’s just it.’

  ‘And what about Ivy?’ Marc takes the knife from my hand. ‘What if I refuse to let her go with you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that. She needs to be with her mother.’ I look down at the shredded remains of our evening meal. ‘Marc, please understand. I’m going to do this with or without your blessing. But I’d much rather have you on my side.’

  ‘Okay Sophia.’ Marc lays the knife on the wooden board. ‘I’ll give you my blessing.’

  ‘Oh Marc. It means so much to me—’

  ‘I hadn’t finished. I will give you my blessing on one condition.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I come with you on this cruise ship.’

  25

  I blink up at Marc. ‘You want to come with me? While we’re filming the movie?’

  ‘I always want to be with you.’ He watches me. ‘All day and all night. You know that. And Ivy too.’

  ‘Yes, but … this isn’t some possessive thing, is it?’ I duck down to lift hot vegetables from the oven, and stand to place them on a wrought-iron trivet. ‘Keeping an eye on me?’

  ‘In part.’ Marc offers that half smile of his. ‘I will have two eyes very firmly fixed on Benjamin Van Rosen. That I can promise you.’

  ‘But what about Ivy College?’ I grab a fork and prod the vegetables.

  ‘We wrap up for the holidays a week before you start filming. Give me that.’ Marc takes the fork from me. ‘I don’t want you massacring these too.’

  ‘Marc, I’d love it if you were around. You know that. I just want to make sure it’s for the right reasons.’

  He smiles at me. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s for the very best reasons.’

  ‘Promise you won’t be jealous,’ I say.

  Marc leans his elbow on wooden work surface. ‘I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. If you’re still allowed to be stubborn, then I’m allowed a little jealousy.’

  As the first day of filming approaches, I get more and more nervous.

  What if Marc is right and I’m taking on more than I can handle? And what on earth should I pack for a cruise to the South of France?

  I’m on my knees checking Ivy’s wardrobe for ‘cruise worthy’ clothes, when Jen comes bursting in.

  ‘Soph!’

  I sit back onto my ankles, very aware that I’m still in my flannel pyjamas even though it’s gone breakfast time.

  ‘Jen. What are you doing here?’ I try to stroke my hair into something neater than the rolled-around-in-bed look. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’

  ‘It’s Saturday.’ Jen plops herself beside Ivy, who’s laying beside me on the nursery floor. ‘And that’s no way to greet Aunty Jen, is it Ivy? No way at all. And you know you don’t have to do your hair for me.’

  My hands drop from my hair. ‘Sorry. I mean, it’s great to see you. It’s just a surprise, that’s all.’

  ‘This is a maze of a house,’ says Jen. ‘Rodney said you were in the nursery, but he forgot to draw me a map. Listen. I’m here to take you into London.’

  She rifles in her cream leather handbag
, pulls out a small Steiff Teddy and hands it to Ivy. ‘A new friend for you, Ivy. Leo thinks you should name it after him, but this Teddy doesn’t look like a Leo to me.’ She pretends to talk to the bear. ‘Right Teddy? You’re not a Leo, are you?’

  Ivy reaches up to stroke the bear’s tufted fur.

  ‘London?’ I look down at my pyjamas. ‘I’m not even dressed yet.’

  ‘Then get dressed. Tanya’s going to take care of Ivy. Sort of a trial run before you set sail. It’s all arranged. And I have some GREAT news.’

  ‘I can’t go to London, Jen,’ I insist. ‘I need to plan for this trip. I mean, look at all this.’ I gesture to Ivy’s clothes, strewn over the floor. ‘It’s going to take me hours to work out what Ivy needs at sea.’

  ‘Oh rubbish.’ Jen crosses her short legs. ‘Rodney will do all that for you. You have to come with me. We’re choosing my wedding flowers. Exciting, right?’

  ‘Wow. Really?’

  ‘Really. Today is a big deal and I want my friend.’

  I sigh. ‘Fine. I’ll come.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. Come on! Hurry up and get dressed.’

  26

  An hour later, Keith drops us in Chelsea, under silky apple blossom trees and a sapphire blue sky.

  ‘Just wait until you see the flowers this place does,’ says Jen, leading me along the King’s Road. ‘Seriously. The owner is amazing. The royal family use her for everything. Kate and Wills spend a fortune here.’ She grips my arm. ‘Look! This is the place.’

  ‘Here?’ I see frosted glass, but nothing more. ‘If this is a flower shop, where are the flowers?’

  ‘Oh there’s no window display,’ says Jen airily. ‘Get this. Jane Knight is so amazing that you have to be invited inside to see her flowers. They’re too exclusive to be shown to the riff-raff on the street. What do you think about that?’

  I laugh. ‘I think these flowers will be just perfect for you.’

  ‘The press won’t leave me alone about this wedding,’ says Jen, pushing open the frosted-glass door. ‘Which means we get so much stuff for free. It’s fantastic!’

  ‘May I help you ladies?’ A receptionist taps a pen on a frosted glass Jane Knight-emblazoned podium.

  ‘We have an appointment,’ Jen crows.

  ‘So you’re Jennifer?’ The receptionist glances at her book. ‘Come with me. I’ll show you to the flower kitchen.’

  ‘Oh my god.’ Jen squeezes my arm again, as we’re led into a flower-filled room. ‘Flower kitchen. Talk about exclusive.’

  I stare at giant sprays of orchids, vivid red roses and super-sized daffodils.

  ‘These flowers are amazing,’ I murmur.

  Aproned ladies sit at a long table, cutting flower stalks and snipping ribbon amid the scented petals and freshly cut stems.

  A neat, pretty Asian woman in a perfect white suit comes to greet us.

  ‘Ladies. Welcome. I’m Jane.’ She shakes our hands, her fingers soft and warm.

  Everything about Jane is tidy and perfectly groomed, from her short, pixie-style hair to her flawless French manicure.

  ‘Nice to meet you Jane,’ Jen gushes. ‘These flowers are in-credible.’

  Jane gives a light smile. ‘We do our best.’ Her accent is clipped and British, but very soft. ‘My ladies will bring you some refreshments in a moment. But do feel free to look around. Get a sense of what you might like.’

  27

  We spend the morning drinking rose tea, eating lavender and honey biscuits and admiring stunningly beautiful flowers.

  At lunchtime, a special delivery arrives – a gourmet picnic of freshly-baked bread, English farm cheese, hand-cooked crisps and a patisserie of pastry desserts. There’s also a chilled bottle of champagne and two iced glasses.

  ‘Courtesy of Mr Marc Blackwell,’ an aproned lady tells us, setting the wicker hamper on our table.

  ‘He’s still madly in love with you, then?’ says Jen.

  ‘So it would seem.’ I pull open crisp packets. ‘It hasn’t been easy lately, though. He didn’t want me to take this film role.’

  ‘He’s protective.’ Jen pops the champagne and pours it into glasses. ‘He’ll come around.’

  ‘That’s what everyone else says.’ I take a crisp and munch loudly on it, washing it down with a sip of champagne.

  ‘Sophia.’ Jen drums manicured fingers on her champagne glass. ‘Can I tell you something?’

  ‘You know you can tell me anything. Crisp?’ I offer her the packet.

  Jen shakes her head, eyes suddenly teary.

  ‘Jen?’ I drop the packet, wipe salt from my fingers and put a hand on her arm. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m, um … the wedding and everything.’ Jen fiddles with her champagne glass. ‘Recently I’ve been thinking … I mean, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. I’m scared. Like maybe marrying Leo isn’t the right decision.’

  ‘What’s brought all this on?’ I ask.

  ‘We’ve been arguing a lot lately. Over stupid stuff. God – he’s so messy. I feel like his mother sometimes. He can’t even pick up his underwear.’

  I offer a tentative smile. ‘That doesn’t sound so serious.’

  Jen wipes a tear away, taking a gulp of champagne. ‘I know. It doesn’t, does it? I don’t know why I’m thinking like this.’

  ‘Probably just pre-wedding nerves.’ I refill her half-empty glass.

  ‘Did you feel nervous? Before you married Marc.’ She takes another long sip.

  ‘No, but … I mean we went through so much together.’ I pull sandwiches out of the hamper. ‘I think I’d got all my nerves out of the way already.’

  ‘Oh this is silly.’ Jen waves a dismissive hand. ‘I’m being silly. You’re right. This is just pre-wedding nerves. Now listen – I have something to tell you about your new movie. Remember I said I had good news? You start filming next week, right?’

  ‘Sort of.’ I slide sandwiches from rustly brown-paper bags. ‘Marc and I will board the cruise ship at Southampton. And then sail to Spain. Is Leo boarding at Southampton too?’

  Jen picks up a cheese and pickle sourdough sandwich, takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. ‘Yes. Hang on. Why are you stopping at Spain? I thought you dock at Saint-Tropez?’

  ‘We’re picking up Nadia,’ I explain, choosing a salt-beef and mustard sandwich. ‘And Benjamin Van Rosen, I think. Listen, are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘Honestly I’m fine.’ Jen dabs her lips with a chequered napkin. ‘Look. I’m being silly. Emotional. Now listen, about your little cruise ship adventure …’

  ‘You say it like it’s a holiday,’ I laugh. ‘I will be working.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Jen grabs a handful of crisps. ‘Sailing the Mediterranean, surrounded by handsome actors. Hard work indeed.’

  ‘God, don’t remind me about the other actors,’ I laugh. ‘I really hope I can hold my own. I mean, Benjamin is incredible.’

  ‘Oh I know. A PR girl’s dream. And speaking of which …’ Her eyes sparkle and she gives a delighted bounce.

  ‘What is it, Jen?’

  ‘Remember I said I had good news for you?’

  ‘Um … sort of.’ I take a bite of sandwich, enjoying the sharpness of the mustard and saltiness of the beef.

  ‘Guess who’s going to be Leo’s plus one on the cruise ship?’ Jen drops a crisp into her mouth.

  ‘Who? You don’t mean …?’

  Jen jumps up and down on her stool. ‘ME! Can you believe it? Nadia agreed to let me tag along.’

  ‘Oh Jen.’ A grin lights up my face. ‘You’re coming too? That’s amazing.’

  ‘Yes! I’ve blagged myself a place on the ship of dreams.’ Jen claps her hands together. ‘Think what this will do for my business! All those famous actors in one place. I’ll do five years of sign-ups in a month. And I can see my little niece too. And you, of course.’

  Jen is the best salesperson I know. Within a day, she’ll probably have half the cast on her books.

  �
�Nadia was totally cool about me coming,’ Jen continues. ‘She thinks I’ll keep Leo happy. Little does she know, we hate each other right now.’

  ‘Jen—’

  ‘I’m joking,’ Jen insists. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Well this is AMAZING news, Jen.’ I take a little sip of champagne. ‘We can really catch up. I’ve hardly seen you since Ivy was born.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Jen glugs from her own glass. ‘I feel guilty enough about that.’

  ‘It’s fine. Honestly.’ I take another bite of sandwich.

  ‘Listen – you can’t let me eat too much on the ship,’ says Jen, grabbing another handful of crisps. ‘I read somewhere people put on a pound a day on cruises. I have to lose weight, not gain it.’

  ‘Jen, you don’t need to lose weight.’

  ‘Soph, you wouldn’t believe how tiny designer wedding dresses are. They don’t realise women have boobs.’ She looks down at her chest. ‘So these things are going to have to shrink down. Or I’ll be flashing everyone on my wedding day.’

  28

  ‘You’re sure you won’t change your mind about this?’ says Marc, as we drive along the coast towards Southampton.

  Seagulls fly overhead and saltwater mists the limo windows.

  My stomach is flipping over and over.

  This is real now.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I smile. ‘Really. Can’t wait.’

  Marc frowns out of the window.

  On the horizon, a ten-storey, luxury cruise ship sparkles under the sun. It’s astonishing – a floating hotel. I’ve never seen a boat this big before.

  ‘Okay, I’m a little nervous,’ I admit. ‘Terrified, actually.’

  Marc shakes his head at the window. ‘If you will jump in at the deep end—’

  ‘Thanks for your support, Marc.’

  He turns to me, eyes soft. ‘I’m sorry. I just think … perhaps you’re being naïve.’

  ‘This again? I’m not the child you think I am.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re a child.’

  The limo glides through Southampton port and into a chained-off VIP area, where two other limos are parked up.

  ‘Tanya must have arrived already,’ I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. ‘God – I hope Ivy is okay. It was a long journey.’