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Where I fucking belong.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ivy
I feel a bit like a fish out of water. My dark hair falls haphazardly out of a sloppy bun, and a sleeveless white shirt clings to my perspiration-stained back. When I caught my reflection in the mirror over the bar, I had lipstick on my teeth. At least, I thought to tuck my black leggings into my favorite tan cowboy boots or the maître ‘d might have barred me at the door.
To the refined brunch crowd around us, I’m sure I look a hot mess, but with a hangover gnawing at me and my stomach growling like a feral animal, I couldn’t care less.
“Why are we eating here?” Sage moans as the hostess takes us to our table. “We’re not fancy people, and this place is extra fancy.”
I smile and sit, accepting the menu from the pretty, freckled hostess. Sage isn’t wrong. This little bistro is so fancy that even the name Posh is fancy.
“We’re here because it’s ridiculously late for breakfast but perfectly timed for brunch. Plus, I’m not in the mood to cook. Do you really want to eat where you work on your day off?” I muse, picking at the breadbasket on our table.
Sage huffs. “I don’t even want to eat where I work when I’m working. That kitchen is iffy.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste.
I chuckle at my sister’s scowl, reaching for a piece of toast. “I remember those days. The diner is kind of like sausage; the food is good only if you don’t know how it’s made.”
“On the upside, I’m down five pounds,” Sage says, sitting a little taller.
Rolling my eyes, I bite into my toast. “Sage, you don’t have five pounds to lose. Please don’t tell me this is about impressing some guy.”
She sighs, a playful glint in her eye. “Nope, not about a guy. But have you seen how this weight loss has made my boobs look?” She leans forward, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Impressive, huh?”
I nod. Honesty is our unspoken rule. “Yeah, they do look good. Just... be careful, okay? The world’s full of creeps.”
“Says the girl who works at a sex club,” Sage retorts playfully. “And if some asshole tries to touch me without my permission, I’ll kick his ass.”
My sister lives her life out loud, and I’m proud of that. It’s exactly what I want for her. And why I worry about her.
“So,” she begins, pausing for dramatic effect. “Stone’s home.”
“He is,” I say nonchalantly. I play it cool, reaching for my coffee cup as a diversion. But Sage stares at me with a teasing smile on her face.
With a very inquisitive look, she says, “You see how fucking hot he is? You think he bleaches his hair? I kinda thought he might, but he did just get back from California,” she says, tapping her chin. “Hmmm…”
Trying to keep my focus on the eggs Benedict that’s just arrived, I shrug. “Probably just the sun. I don’t see him getting highlights.” Stone is the last person I want to discuss, especially with how my heart skips a beat at mentioning his name.
She barks out a laugh. “So you noticed. He does look mighty fucking fine. So…you thinking about tapping that? I know you’ve always had a thing for him.”
I focus on cutting into my breakfast, the rich hollandaise sauce a welcome distraction from the topic of Stone. Sage and I might share everything, but some things are too tangled to lay bare, even over brunch.
“I’m happy Stone is back, and I know Gray is too. And no, I’m not planning on tapping anything. I have a boyfriend, and I’m quite happy with him.”
Sage sighs heavily, shaking her head in disappointment. “He got hot, Ivy. You can say that without betraying Gray.” She wiggles her brows as if that’s going to tempt me to tell her what she wants to hear. “So hot,” she whispers and takes a bite of her scrambled eggs with cheese on top.
Stone has grown into a gorgeous man. It’s hard not to notice it, objectively speaking. But Gray is just as fine. Maybe a little more immature. Stone seems like he grew up. Like he’s older than his twenty-five years. “I’m glad he’s back, Sage. Okay?”
“Yeah, and?” She rolls her wrist, encouraging me to say more.
I laugh at the scandalous look in her eyes as if I’m about to reveal some big secret. “More than anything, more than being happy that he’s back, I’m relieved.”
Her brows scrunch together. “Relieved?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Obviously, Peaches would have said something if anything bad had happened to him but seeing him in the flesh and just knowing he’s alive. Happy. Safe. It fills me with relief.” And joy.
She grins. “He called me Squirt.”
