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I pull out a smile. “Doesn’t look like I’m alone anymore.” That’s all she needs to hear.
Chapter 19
Ivy
Making pain aux raisins is soothing. The steps I have to go through, the yeasty scent of dough, and the warm fragrance of almond cream. I push myself, creating dozens of delicate, buttery layers. Rolling and folding, rolling and folding.
A fine ache spreads along my neck and shoulders. It feels good, this movement. Proactive in the face of my inner silence.
Music plays and I sing along. Rolling and folding. Layer after layer. The dough is like cool satin against my palms.
The phone rings, and I rub my hands on a rag before answering. It’s Fi.
“Hey there, mama bear.”
“Hey.” I try to insert some enthusiasm into my reply. I really do. But it’s an epic fail.
Unfortunately, Fi notices. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” Which is true. Life has basically become a void. I’d tried to go out, have fun. Dance with guys and pretend I loved it. But I’ve never been very good at pretending.
We’re both quiet for a minute. Me not being able to respond without sobbing to Fi, and she’s playing detective.
This becomes obvious when she says with suspicion, “Are you listening to ‘Shadowboxer’?”
Sometimes it sucks to have a sister who knows me inside and out. “No.”
I flick off my speakers.
“Why are you listening to my moody namesake?”
Fi knows perfectly well that I listen to Fiona Apple when I’m in a funk.
“What are you, the DJ police?”
“Yes, and you’re in violation of drowning in sad-sack music for the emotionally imbalanced.”
Giving up the ghost, I confess. “I miss Gray.” I draw in a deep, shaking breath. “I miss him like a loose tooth.”
“What?” She laughs, clearly confused.
“You know, it’s like a constant ache, and even though I should ignore it, I can’t help but prod.” Provoke that itchy, dull pain that digs deeper the more I touch on it.
“Ah, a vicious circle of self-torture,” Fi says.
I can picture her nodding now. I don’t say anything, but pluck at a spot of dried flour on my apron.
Fi’s gentle voice drifts through the phone. “Do you want me to come home tonight?”
She’s been spending more time at her boyfriend’s house. I’m almost envious, but I’m not going to drag her over here. “No. I’m okay.”
“Call Gray, Ivy.”
“I’ve texted him.” A stab of pain hits my heart. “He’s been distant. Doing his own thing.”
He’s doing what I asked him to do. And it sucks. All I can think of is Gray out, meeting girls, moving on.
Fi sighs. “Yeah, not the same. Call and tell him that you’ve been a fool. A big ol’ flaming fool—”
