Antsy and agitated, I bounced my weight from one foot to the other and chewed on the skin inside my bottom lip.
It was a nervous habit I’d developed as a teenager, and by now I’d all but decimated the fragile skin. But it worked for me, giving me something to focus on internally without having to outwardly admit to any kind of anxiety.
I’d been on set for an hour and a half, and Ivy and Camilla had yet to arrive. No one else seemed even the least bit concerned over their late arrival, but it gnawed at me like an ant with a left-behind French fry.
The Lord’s Prayer preached forgiveness of those who trespassed against us, but I couldn’t exactly blame Ivy being slow to the godly order. I’d been trampling all over her feelings since the moment she’d come to town.
Still, that had never stopped her from being on time for work.
Normally, I wouldn’t fucking hesitate. I’d have had Boyce Williams up against a wall with a hand to his throat to give me answers. And if he didn’t know why she was late, to do something about finding out and quick.
But I’d been trying to think first and act later, and something told me Ivy would not swoon over the sight of me holding her producer against the wall by force.
This is insanity, Levi Fox. Congratulations, the voice inside my head taunted. You’ve earned it.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my phone book to Dane Marx’s number. If nothing else, at this point, I needed to at least assure myself of her safety.
My thumb hovered over the call button for a long second before pressing it. And then immediately moved over to hit end as a cold burst of wind and a streak of fresh sunlight drifted in from the street.
The door swept open to reveal Camilla, followed by Ivy, entering the building with faces wreathed in smiles. Ivy looked tired but otherwise unharmed. All of my fear evaporated, replaced by relief.
I shook my head, dismayed by my inability to think of anything but the worst. I’d been doing it since Grace died, a side effect of the situation, I supposed, but it needed to fucking end already.
Cautious was one thing; paranoid was another.
Ivy buzzed by quickly, Camilla chasing after her with important notes she’d somehow already managed to acquire from Boyce, so I faded into the background and watched.
They appeared to be in rhythm in a way I hadn’t noticed before, finishing each other’s sentences and coming up with answers before the other even asked a question. I’d heard about twins having a kind of sixth sense for one another, but I’d never personally witnessed it. There’d never actually been a set of identical twins in Cold, Montana in the time I’d been alive, and Ivy and Camilla hadn’t really been in sync before today.
Something that was no doubt my fault.
Ivy moved to the makeup room, and Camilla ventured back to Ivy’s bag for something. She tossed it up and Ivy caught it without even looking back, and I became even more convinced than ever.
A rift had been burning through the uncanny connection of the twins since I’d stuck myself in the middle. But today, they’d somehow found their way back.
The door to the makeup room was still open, and I surreptitiously moved myself closer. I wanted to be a part of Ivy’s chaos, to get a look into everything that went into her day and went into making her who she was.
That was how I’d spent a whole hell of a lot of the last fourteen days, honestly. She wasn’t big on letting me get close enough to apologize, or more likely, argue, and I was doing my best not to push it.
After everything I’d put her through, the least she deserved was space to get her head together.
“Excuse me,” Boyce mumbled as he shouldered past me on his way into the room, eyes set on Ivy.
“Hugo has some notes for you,” he announced as soon as he cleared the threshold. Several heads swung over at the blaring sound of his voice, and Ivy’s jerked up from where she’d been studying the notes in her lap.
Her brow furrowed as Camilla stepped forward to take them from Boyce’s hand. “Is he unhappy with something I’ve been—”
“Read the notes,” Boyce interrupted to order. “Jesus. I can’t spoon-feed you everything.”
I’d never considered something as innocuous as the absence of sound could occur violently until now, but silence burst through the room like an explosion.
Ivy did her best to compose herself as the rest of the room pretended to ignore the tension while still keeping an ear to the action.
I watched unabashedly, my jaw hard and ticking.
At the undeniable disquiet he’d unintentionally created, Boyce stepped farther into the room and ran a thick hand down the bare skin of Ivy’s arm, leaning into her ear to whisper something none of us could hear.
Her cheeks pinked slightly, and my spine shot straight.
Goddamn, I didn’t like the sight of someone else’s hands on her.
Strain tightening throughout my muscles, one foot moved in front of the other, poising to step inside the room, when a small hand landed roughly on my shoulder and a taunting voice played in my ear.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Camilla coached knowingly. I flinched, completely surprised to find her anywhere but inside the room where she’d been before.
Obviously distracted by the interaction between Ivy and Boyce, I’d lost track of her.
“Why not?”
She jerked her head behind us and stepped away, heading across the room to the craft services table, so I followed.
Camilla moved easily, preparing a cup of coffee in a way it was obvious she’d done millions of times.
I looked on avidly for lack of anything better to do and tried to come up with the words to apologize. I was sure there were better times and ways to do it, but two weeks of time had passed and I’d yet to have the opportunity. Now had to be better than never.
“Look, Camilla—”
“Cam,” she corrected without looking up.
I nodded and repeated the shortened version of her name diligently. “Cam.”
She flitted from the coffee to the pastries, surveying the selection with rapt attention. I reached out and touched just her elbow. “Can you look at me?”
She shook her head without looking up. “I can, but that’ll probably make my aim better when I try to stab you with this butter knife.” She held it up for me to see. “So you probably don’t want me to.”
I chuckled despite myself. “All right. Maybe don’t look at me, then. I’ll settle for listening.”
She snapped her fingers and grabbed a chocolate croissant from the back. “Good plan.”
I rolled my eyes, but one corner of my mouth curled. “I’m trying to apologize, and you’re making it kind of hard,” I said frankly.
With wild hair and burning forest eyes, she looked directly at me then. “It should be hard, jackhole. You fucked up big-time.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “If you really know, there probably should be more groveling.”
I laughed and smiled before leaning in close and beckoning her to come closer with a curl of a finger. She did so tentatively, thrown off by my seemingly good mood. “I know I was an asshole. I was scared—”
She rolled her eyes dramatically, and I laughed again. “Cliché, right? The harsh dickhead being scared?”
“Yeah,” she agreed with a comical nod. “And I have to say, dickhead is an astute observation that I fully agree with.”
I shrugged. “It’s all true. I was scared of love, scared of your sister, and scared of what the two of them would mean together.”
Her head jerked back, and her smile melted.
“You were an easy play at the party, and in hindsight, I understand just how cruel I was. But what happened between you and me beyond the party was not my motivation or intention.”
“Oh great, that makes it all better.”
I nodded. “I know. It was still shitty, I still deserve for the two of you to hate me, but the way I figure it, you’re going to get over it.”
She guffawed. “I am, am I?”
I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest. “I was an asshole. I treated you like shit and Ivy like shit, and I regret all of it. But we both know I couldn’t ever have felt something for you, as great as you are, because I was already gone for your sister.”
Cam’s mouth opened and closed, momentarily stunned as I leaned back in for the kill. “Forgive me?” I whispered. “I’d really hate to have a problem with my sister-in-law.”
Her words were stuttered and her breathing no more than pants. “Sister-in-law?”
“I’ve got some work to do before then,” I admitted.
Her nod was stiff and her face laughable, but the icy exterior she’d given me when we first came to the table was noticeably thawed.
I inclined my head to the cup of coffee in her hand. “Now…is that how Ivy likes her coffee?”
She nodded, analysis making her eyes turn a darker shade of green as she held it out to me.
I shook my head and smiled. “No, thanks. I watched you make it. Two sugars and a little bit of milk.” She laughed—just one tiny lilt of disbelief. “I’ll make her a fresh cup.”
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Levi Fox.”
“By all means,” I acquiesced. “If you think it’s necessary, I give you permission to keep watch with two.”
Just before she left to walk away, she paused her steps and turned to meet my eyes. “You really care about her?”
I nodded. “Without question.”
She searched my eyes for a few long moments, assessing and scrutinizing my truth.
Until she found whatever she was looking for.
“You do something again to hurt her, I will murder you.”
And that was that.
Camilla walked away from the craft services table and, ironically, her words left me standing there with a giant smile on my face.
If I did something to hurt Ivy again, I’d willingly hand Camilla the weapon.