The Ivy House

chapter 46

Chase found her by following the wet footsteps across the front porch, through the front door, which she hadn’t locked, down the hall and to the terrace. She had lit a fire in the fire pit and changed, though she was still wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the new outdoor couch she’d had delivered.

It had taken him a good hour to straighten things out with the police. Luckily, Dean, like Chase, hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, so they shook hands, Chase with his stomach aching from Dean’s nicely placed roundhouse kick, and Dean with a shiner that made him look more like a biker than a preppy Hollywood type.

She was drinking tea, wrapped in a soft blanket, staring out at the water. The sun was well down below the horizon, but the last streaks of purple-pink suffused the indigo sky.

“I’m sorry,” he said, deciding to lead with an apology.

Her face didn’t turn. He could see her exquisite profile, the long straight nose, the way the fire picked up the red-gold highlights in her hair.

“Why did you come today?”

“I came because I thought you were going to Los Angeles with him, for him,” Chase said, and felt his hands clench and then unclench.

“Dean?” She had turned now, surprise lifting her voice.

“Yes. I thought you were going to walk out of my life and I was crazy. Crazy that I would lose you.”

He came around the couch and dropped down in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Chase took her hands in his. They were still cold and her hair was still damp, probably from her shower. She smelled like her flower-and-citrus shampoo.

“Phoebe Ryan, I love you. I love you because you’re you. Stubborn, caring, loving despite never being loved, because you’re talented and creative. Because I can’t think straight when you’re around. Because when your blue eyes look at me, I would do anything for you.”

“You did jump into the water after me. I was on the swim team or didn’t you remember?”

“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. “No sarcasm. I am trying to tell you something here.”

She shook her head, lifted her chin. “Then just say it, Chase Sanders.”

He smiled. “Phoebe, I love you. Every single thing about you. From your fuzzy slippers, to your silly salt-and-pepper shaker collection, to the way you look in the morning when the sunlight hits your hair on the pillow, to the way your skin smells in the rain. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you because you’re you. And no one else. Will you marry me?”

Chase looked at her, barely breathing. Slowly, excruciatingly, she reached up with her hands and brought his face close to her. She laid a gentle kiss on his lips and breathed the word, “Yes.”



They sat there on the couch, entangled in the blanket, watching the dying embers of the fire. It was fully dark now and frogs had grown loud around them.

“So, about this house,” he started to say.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

“I was thinking that we might need to expand it, just a little bit. You know, so you have a proper studio and there’s plenty of room for the kids to run around. That’s if you want to stay here. If not, I am sure we could find something else.”

Phoebe’s mouth shushed him with a row of kisses along his cheek.

“We can’t leave Ivy House. It’s magical.”

“Romance of this century,” he agreed, as his mouth caught hers and kissed her.




About Drea Stein

Andrea Stein is a writer of contemporary romance, a blogger, wife and mother who lives in central New Jersey. When not writing, she’s probably trying to squeeze in some reading, in between chauffeuring kids, making dinner, folding the ever-present laundry pile and updating her popular blog: www.dreastein.com or on facebook at http://www.facebook.com/DreaSteinAuthor.