by Alina Jacobs
“No, you don’t understand…” I said in a panic. “I have to stop this.” I fumbled my phone out of my pocket then cursed when I saw the message.
Carl Svensson: Ivy is out of the condo. We are clear to start demolition.
Greg Svensson: Fantastic. We’ll have a meeting on Monday to discuss the next steps of the development.
“Shit.”
“I doubt it’s completely dire. I just think you need to give her another chance and let her explain her side of things,” Sebastian said gently.
“It is bad. I just got Ivy evicted from her condo.”
50
Ivy
“I think there’s been some mistake,” I said to the Svensson brother. If he hadn’t been trying to evict me from my condo, I would have said he was attractive. However, if I hadn’t been afraid of turning a bad situation worse, I would have slugged him in his smug mouth.
“Ms. Williams, you are behind on your mortgage payments,” he said in a bored tone. “The previous owner of the building and the units on the ground floor sold to us. We bought the unit across the hall from Mrs. Russo. Now we’re telling you to leave the unit that we currently own.”
“You can’t just evict someone with no notice,” I protested, forcing myself not to break down and cry in front of this asshole. “New York City has laws about removing people from their homes.”
“Yes, and the law is on our side. We can wait the six months that it will take to have our lawyers push this eviction through the system. At the end of it, you will be left with a terrible credit rating, still owe money on the mortgages, and be blacklisted from renting anything in the city of New York ever again.”
I sagged.
“Or,” Carl said, “you can leave now, we can forgive the money on the two mortgages you own, and we can have movers take you to wherever you want to go. Think of it as a fresh start.”
I swallowed, my lower lip trembling. “Please, I have nowhere else to go.”
But the Svensson brother was unmoved.
“Phone a friend, or I can instruct the movers to take you to a hotel.”
“I guess I…” I looked around. The tiny space had never been my dream condo, but it had been mine. But now it wasn’t.
“I guess I don’t really have much of a choice,” I said quietly, blinking back tears.
“Please sign these papers,” Carl said, opening his briefcase and handing me a set of tabbed pages.
As I signed the documents, several burly men hustled up the stairs with tape, boxes, and padding.
“Watch out for the—”
Two of the movers screamed as Fergus launched himself at them.
“…Cat.”
“Demon!”
“It’s possessed!” they yelled as Fergus chased them down the hall.
“Call animal control.”
“Don’t!” I yelled, trying to find Fergus’s carrier. After stuffing the big Maine Coon inside, which earned me scratched arms and angry kitty death wishes, I finished signing the paperwork. It didn’t take the movers long to pack up the tiny apartment.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Williams,” Carl said when I handed him back his pen and the papers.
I picked up Fergus’s carrier and followed Carl Svensson downstairs. He locked the door to my former home behind us then stapled up a notice of demolition.
“Just give them the address,” he said, pointing to the idling moving truck.
“I guess…” I sighed. “I guess I’ll go to Amy’s.”
Fergus stuck one clawed paw out of the carrier and swiped at Carl as he returned to his large black Tesla.
“Shit!” he cursed. “That cat shredded my suit. I think I’m bleeding!”
“Sorry,” I said, not meaning it, as Carl scowled at me.
“Good kitty,” I whispered to Fergus.
I took the subway to Amy’s while the movers drove over.
“Oh, Ivy!” she exclaimed, hugging me as the movers unloaded my things. Her miniature pony, Baxter, nuzzled my side.
“I have officially failed to make it in New York,” I said, trying to smile as the tears rolled down my face.
“It’s okay! We can be roommates! You can live here with me.”
“Where?” Grace asked. Amy’s apartment was even tinier than mine. She rented a space in an old industrial area for the small courtyard, which she had landscaped and planted within an inch of its life.
“She can pitch a tent,” Sophie suggested as the movers looked around, unsure of what to do with my bed. Amy’s apartment was long and narrow. She slept on a cot next to the tiny kitchen, and the bathroom was at the end of the skinny space.
“I think you should donate the bed frame and mattress,” Grace suggested, throwing a few more sticks on the fire that was going in the fire pit.
“We can take it to Goodwill,” the mover offered as his buddies unloaded the last of my meager possessions, being mindful to give Fergus in his cat carrier a wide berth.
“Okay,” I said, dejected. “Take the bed, the lamp, and the desk, please.”
“But that’s all your furniture!” Brea protested.
I shrugged unhappily. “Can’t do anything with it now.”
One of the movers came out of the truck with my mother’s suitcase.
“Just leave that there. She can come pick it up,” I said.
I sagged on the tiny bench and stared into the flames as Brea poured me warm grog that Elsie had made. I sipped the steaming cup of alcohol, tea, and spices then coughed.
“Dang, that is strong.”
“We all need it after putting up with Imogen.”
“I can’t believe she fired us,” Grace said.
“Honestly, it’s for the best,” Brea remarked. “Cheers all around! We’re going to have a free Saturday tomorrow!”
“Except for Sophie and me,” Elsie said with a snort.
“I think she fired all of us,” Grace said uncertainly.
“She’s going to want food and a cake,” Sophie said. “Besides, she already paid for it. We can’t not take it.”
“I don’t know who’s going to be organizing the wedding, though,” Elsie said. “Weddings are finicky events. You have to guide them with a strong hand, or they quickly turn into a disaster.”
“Not our problem,” Amy said, pouring me more grog. “I scheduled the flowers to be delivered in the morning. If Ivy’s not there and I’m not there, I don’t know who is going to put them out.” She shrugged, then toasted me.
“To Ivy being a free woman! Free from Imogen and Evan!”
“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” I wailed, taking a long swig of the grog.
“He’s a billionaire. He’s an asshole. The end,” Elsie said.
“I hope you at least took some pictures,” Brea teased. “You can keep some in the spank bank for later.”
“I lost my home, lost my job, lost my boyfriend,” I complained. “How can you think of sex at a time like this?”
“I’m just looking out for future you,” Brea said, putting a marshmallow on a stick and toasting it over the fire.
“So did you or did you not get any pictures?” Grace demanded around her own s’more.
“I, ah—” Evan did take that picture…
My friends cackled. “Show us! Show us!”
“Fine!” I huffed and took out the phone, exasperated, and swiped to the pictures.
“Oooh!” my friends squealed when they saw the shirtless selfies of Evan after our lovemaking session, the photo cropped to just barely cover things downstairs.
“Dayum, he’s hot!”
“You should go try and make up with him,” Grace said.
Amy glared at her.
“Not like be his girlfriend again,” she protested. “But you could totally just use him for sex and stress relief.”
“Or maybe you could go be his girlfriend again,” Sophie said, eating a piece of chocolate. “Maybe he was just upset about Camilla and the baby. That woul
d be enough to make me snappy and crazy. You should give him another chance.”
“I don’t think so,” Elsie said, looking up from her phone.
“Stop being such a sex killjoy,” Grace said, exasperated. “Ivy can at least go talk to Evan.”
“I don’t think she should have anything to do with him,” Elsie replied, holding out her phone. “This was just posted on Business Insider’s website.”
“‘Coming in two years: new large-scale retail, restaurant, and residential and hotel development near the waterfront,’” I read. “‘It’s a partnership with Svensson Investment and Harrington Investment.’”
“They have a rendering,” Elsie said, “and there’s a new gateway right where Ivy’s former condo is.” We peered at the picture.
“That son of a bitch.” I jumped up.
“Oh no! She’s gone crazy!” Sophie exclaimed. “Woman deranged!”
“I’m not going to kill him,” I snapped, pulling on my coat. “Maybe just maim him.”
51
Evan
While my family headed over to the Olive Garden to the screaming protests of Imogen, I slipped out and headed back to my penthouse. On the way, I stopped by the Svensson Investment tower. Most of their employees had gone home, but Greg and Carl were still working. Archer was lying on the couch in Greg’s office, banging a tennis ball against the opposite wall.
“Did you see the press release?” Carl said excitedly when he saw me. “It just went out on blast. We’re the next big development. Fist bump!”
I ignored him. “Greg, you have to give Ivy her condo back.”
“No.”
“But—”
“You can’t waffle back and forth on this deal. I’ve been quite indulgent.”
“But Wes Holbrook will sell me an alternate property,” I begged. “Ivy’s going to see the press release. She’ll hate me.”
“It’s too late. Papers have been signed. Buy her some chocolate and flowers. Tell her you did it because you thought you two were going to move in together,” Archer suggested. “You just have to spin this into your favor. Sebastian made it sound like you two were super-duper in love. She’ll forgive you.”
“I might have done a few other things wrong,” I admitted.
“This sounds like a personal problem. It does not sound like my problem,” Greg snapped. “I will not have your ineptitude in the relationship department affect my business.”
My phone went off.
Ivy: You lying sack of rotting meat.
“I need to go.”
“If you’re leaving, take Archer with you!” Greg called after me.
Ivy was waiting for me when I pulled up in front of my condo building. I didn’t even get to open the door before she was throwing marshmallows at my car.
“What the—” I swore as a half-melted chocolate bar smeared over my windshield.
“Stop! You’re ruining my car!” I yelled at her as she pelted me with marshmallows.
“You stupid jerk!”
A marshmallow hit me on the nose.
“For someone who hates sports, you sure have good aim,” I growled.
“I don’t hate sports!” she shrieked. “Just sports-themed wedding cakes and assholes who pretend to be friends with people then literally steal their homes from them.”
“Look, I can explain—”
A packet of graham crackers hit me in the chest.
“Ow. Look,” I told her, holding out my hands, “I’m sorry. I can fix this. It’s not my fault.”
“Yes it is! I’m homeless. Fergus is homeless.”
“You can come live with me,” I cajoled.
“Why in the hell would I do that? Besides,” she demanded, “aren’t you moving your baby momma in with you?”
I winced and looked around. “Keep it down. Look, I made a mistake. I thought you were cheating on me, but clearly you weren’t. I’m sorry. I’m going to clear up this thing with Camilla, and you and I can go back to how we were.”
Ivy was staring at me, a hurt expression on her face. “You thought I was cheating on you?”
“I lost my mind a little bit,” I admitted. “Obviously, you would never do anything like that.”
“Yeah, obviously,” Ivy said. She was quiet. The silence was worse than the screaming.
“Just… there’s a lot going on in my life right now,” I said in a rush. “And you are the best thing to happen to me and exactly what I need.”
“So,” Ivy said, too calmly, “this was… what? You wanted me kicked out of my house so I could play nanny to the spawn of the cheating liar you knocked up? No thanks. I can be overworked and miserable from the comfort of my own home. Oh wait, no, I can’t.”
“I wasn’t going to let it happen,” I pleaded, “but then your mother said—”
“Ah, there it is!” Ivy shook her head. “You know what? I’m done.”
“With your mom?” I asked hopefully.
“With my mom, with weddings, with this city, but especially you, Evan Harrington.” Ivy took a deep breath. “I could be trashy and tell you I hope Camilla makes you miserable, but I know she will, so have a nice life. You don’t deserve it.”
I leaned against my car and banged my head on it as she walked away.
“How could I let this happen?” I groaned. “Ivy’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and I ruined it. No, I didn’t just ruin it. I nuked it from orbit.”
“How can you still be hung up on her?” a shrill voice called. Camilla was half hanging out of the open window of a limo. “I’m the mother of your child.”
“Are you though? It could be anyone’s,” I told her.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying,” I shot back. “You slept with half the wedding party. Excuse me for being skeptical.”
“I’m going to take you to the cleaners,” she spat.
“Until I get a paternity test, you’re not seeing a dime from me,” I shot back.
I handed my keys over to the valet with instructions to wash the chocolate and marshmallow smears off the car, then went up to my penthouse to pace in front of the window. I missed Ivy. I missed Fergus. I missed her tiny apartment, and I hated myself for ruining the best thing in my life.
“I have to get her back,” I said to my reflection. But I had personally arranged to have her kicked out of her home, and there was no coming back from that. Ivy would never trust me again. She would always hate me. There would be no winning her back. I rested my forehead against the glass.
“But you still need to make it right.”
Greg was still in his office bright and early the next morning.
“Did you even sleep?” I asked him.
“Of course I slept,” he retorted. “If you want to look at someone who hasn’t slept and hasn’t even changed his clothes, look no further.”
He pointed to Archer, who was yawning and chewing on a bagel. He held it out to me. “Wanna bite?”
“No, he doesn’t,” his co-founder, Mike, said, shoving Archer’s hand away.
“You better not be here to beg me to change that real estate deal,” Greg warned. “If you haven’t noticed, even though I came in here on a Saturday morning to work, I am still unable to find a moment’s peace.”
“There’s no food in our offices downstairs,” Archer complained. “And our coffee machine is broken.”
“And whose fault is that?” Greg snapped.
“How was I supposed to know that you can’t just put any old cup in the Keurig?”
“Literally everyone knows,” Mike said.
“You two need to be finding a buyer for that clock tower penthouse at the Brookview,” Greg said. “That is your number-one goal. It’s almost tax time, and I am not paying the bill on that penthouse. It needs to be off the books. Find a buyer.”
I smiled and waved at them.
“As it so happens, I am actually in the market for a very expensive apology present.”
Apology pre
sent bought and paid for, I just needed to sign it over to Ivy. There was no way she was taking me back—I wasn’t even going to ask—but I would never be able to live with the guilt if she remained homeless because of me.
Unfortunately, when I went to the address Carl Svensson had given me, the courtyard was empty, and no one was home except Fergus, who was at the window, chewing on a curtain.
“How’s my best furry buddy?” I greeted him. The big Maine Coon hissed at me when I stuck my hand through the partially opened window and unlocked the door to let him out.
“Yeah, I probably deserved that. But I’m making it right,” I assured him. “I just have to find Ivy.”
Had she left town? Where was she?
52
Ivy
Amy’s apartment was even smaller than my old one. She couldn’t even fit a bed in it, so I slept on the floor in a sleeping bag wedged between the stove and the cot Amy slept on.
“Ivy,” she whispered in the darkness. “Remember when we were in college and we had all those big hopes and dreams?”
“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “I wanted a fancy apartment, a wonderful, good-looking husband, and an internationally renowned business. And look at me now.”
At the window, Fergus screeched at a leaf that had fallen from one of the miniature trees.
“Does he do that all the time?”
“When he’s in a really bad mood,” I said. “Or when he’s hungry.”
“There’s leftover cured salmon in the fridge.”
As I rummaged around in the fridge, my phone rang. On the screen, Mika’s name glowed in the dark.
“Ivy! Oh thank goodness,” she said in a rush when I answered.
“It’s four in the morning.”
“I know, it’s so late already,” she babbled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Can you please come run this wedding?”
“Imogen fired me.”
“Evan unfired you.”
“Ah, yes, Evan, really looking out for my best interests there. Prick.”
