We’re talking about Lou Reed and Metallica cutting a new studio album and the buzz that the artists’ collaboration is perfection, but when I glance up and see my brother and his wife walking in, I smile for the first time all day. I can’t believe I’ve missed that pain in my ass and the muse, too. I haven’t seen Dahlia in a few months and I have to say River was right—she looks amazing. Seeing his happiness means everything to me. Years ago I promised my grandfather I’d look out for him and not let the same things that happened to our dad happen to him. I did the best I could and then I had to let him make his own decisions, and I’m glad to say I think he’s much happier because of it. I know my grandpa would understand, and I think he’d be proud.
Amy must see me staring because she turns around on her stool. Twisting back, she’s smiling too. “You didn’t tell me Dahlia was pregnant.”
“Sorry. With everything that happened last night, I never even thought about it.”
“How far along is she?”
“Three or four months, I think.”
“She’s got the cutest baby bump. She really makes pregnancy look good.”
I have no clue about pregnant women, so I just nod my head in agreement. River sees me and heads toward the bar with what I swear is a protective shield around Dahlia. Honestly, I feel sorry for Dahlia, because his overprotectiveness will probably reach a level of insanity. Ivy crosses his path before he reaches me and I can tell she recognizes him right away. He seems to play it cool. Giving her that same look he always gave her—the half smirk that seems to put girls in a frenzy, the one I used to think meant he was hot for my girl and the millions of other girls who were on the receiving end of the look. It actually wasn’t until River brought Dahlia around that I figured out the look didn’t mean anything. The look my brother gives his wife, the one with a full smile that brings out his dimples, is the one that matters. I realize now it’s the same look I used to give Ivy. He introduces her to Dahlia, who appears to be gushing. I watch as the two ladies seem to hit it off. Ivy points to Dahlia’s stomach and then Ivy is the one gushing.
“So are they both going?” Amy asks, and suddenly I feel like I must have missed half of the conversation. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glance at the screen and put a finger up before I answer it. “Hey, Zeak, everything okay with Zane?” The music is so loud I can’t hear him, so I step outside. After a ten-minute phone conversation with Zeak trying to persuade me that I should postpone the tour, I finally head back inside.
The lights dim and the music gets louder as the DJ invites people to the dance floor. Making my way through the crowd, I come face-to-face with pale arched eyebrows delicately framing the most perfect feline eyes. However, their stormy blue color offers up a hint of her unease at seeing me. Only inches from me, she takes my breath away with just one look. Her normally colorless cheeks are flushed and her breathing is shallow, telling me she’s affected by my presence as well. “Ivy,” I breathe softly, almost not believing that she’s right here in front of me.
She quickly diverts her gaze, looking anywhere but at me, and it doesn’t take long for her pouty red lips to form a frown. “Excuse me,” she says a little too politely as she tries to step around me. The tone of her voice is so soft, so feminine, that my body hums just from the sound alone.
I clutch her elbow, my fingers tingling from the touch of her warm skin against mine. I pull her closer to me. The feel of her body is so familiar. I whisper in her ear, “Don’t act like you don’t know me. Talk to me.”
She stiffens the moment physical contact is made. Her breath quickens and when her eyes shoot to mine they seem to sparkle. For a moment I think their hardness is fading. But just as she opens her mouth to speak, the room brightens, the music quiets, and a voice comes over the microphone.
“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming tonight. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Damon Wolf, head of Sheep Industries,” he says from the front of the room, flashing a fake smile. He’s wearing an expensive suit with a tie and has swapped his sunglasses for matching glasses with clear lenses. The crowd claps as he pauses, and Ivy holds her arms up high, clapping with a pride that guts me. I scan the room and see River and Dahlia talking to Garrett. Ivy’s eyes flick between the stage and the parquet floor beneath us. Her eyes go dull—there’s not an ounce of admiration in them as she looks at him. But when she also doesn’t look back toward me, I walk away.
The announcement was just as I thought—his father’s company had bought Jane’s label. At least, by the looks of it, her label is one company he doesn’t plan to dismantle. Most of the bands it holds are solid and their dynamics seem to work the charts well together. River, Dahlia, Amy, and I leave shortly after the announcement and head to my brother’s suite to discuss the tour, but there’s more than just the tour on my mind. I can’t wrap my head around Ivy being with Damon. Watching them function as a couple killed me. I knew they were engaged, but seeing them together is like one of my worst nightmares and just makes it all the more real. Every time I saw him touch her today it set my insides on fire—it was unbearable, intolerable, and I knew that if I stayed, I was going to have to drop him.