54 Ava: Dinner With Ivy
Music drifts through the kitchen, courtesy of my phone, as I chop garlic, enjoying the sharp aroma. Cooking has always been a comfort to me, a way to lose myself in the simple tasks and let my mind wander. As I toss minced garlic into the pan heating over the stove, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace settle over me, if only momentarily.”
I’ve set up the phone Clayton gave me, and texted him and Ivy to let them know it was working. Neither responded, which is fine by me. I set up the burner phone, too, and texted Lisa with updates. She did respond, and her spam of emojis have lightened the load on my heart. I texted Mrs. Elkins, letting her know I’m safe and begging her not to talk to anyone about me. Mrs. Elkins assured me my job is safe whenever I
can come home, which is even more of a relief.
My little paradise is waiting for me, which makes it so much easier to be stuck here right now.
A knock at the door startles me from my reverie. I glance at the clock, wondering who could be here at
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this hour. Wiping my hands on a towel, I make my way to the door, peering through the peephole.
It’s Ivy.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever interaction awaits me. There’s something about Ivy that always puts me on edge, a subtle undercurrent of something that I can’t quite place. Still, I paste on a polite smile and open the door..
“Ivy, hi,” I greet her, trying to keep my tone casual.
“Ava,” she says, her smile bright but somehow not quite reaching her eyes. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all,” I assure her, stepping aside to let her in. “I was just making dinner.”
As she enters, I notice the bottle of wine in her hand and the shopping bag slung over her arm. My brow furrows slightly, but I say nothing, waiting for her to explain.
“I took the liberty of picking up a few things for you,” Ivy says, holding out the wine and the bag. “A little something to help you settle in.”
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I accept the items, feeling a bit awkward. “You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, even as I eye the clothes curiously.
“Nonsense,” Ivy waves a dismissive hand. “It’s the least I could do. You’re practically family now, after all.”
There it is again, that undercurrent of something. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it makes me uneasy. Still, I force a smile and nod.
“Thank you, Ivy,” I say, meaning it despite my reservations. “That’s really kind of you.”
She beams at me, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m reading too much into things. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. The Moon Goddess knows I’m plenty paranoid these days.
You are, but it’s understandable, Selene says, yawning from her spot on the couch. She’s still binge–watching her mind–numbing wolf shifter show.
Remembering that I’m in the middle of cooking, I set the bag and wine on the counter. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” I gesture towards the living area. “Dinner should be ready soon.”
Timi roturna mu amila and cinka aronofully onto the
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54 Ava: Dinner With Ivy
couch, crossing her legs and leaning back. Selene sniffs her in greeting, and Ivy reaches out to pat her head in a ginger sort of way, almost like she’s worried about being tainted by a dog.
The image makes me snort. Inside my head, of course. I wouldn’t do that where she can hear me.
I busy myself in the kitchen, trying to ignore the way her gaze seems to follow me as I move about.
Soon enough, the food is plated, and I carry our dishes. to the table. “Here we are,” I say, setting a plate in front of Ivy before taking my own seat. “I hope you like pasta primavera.”
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