Writing On The Wall (The King Brothers Duology #2)

Chapter 38

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

IVY

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” I whisper through the side of my mouth to Toby.

“Ember invited me, how could I miss this?” He aims a giant smile at Opal and Gail. We’re all seated at a long table at Capelli’s, the Italian restaurant Ember and Colton both love. Well, not all of us. Ethan still hasn’t arrived.

I joked with him earlier about how hilarious it would be to end up seated between him and Toby. I also assured him I’d come up with an excuse as to why Toby couldn’t make it tonight. Jokes on me! Ember took it upon herself to personally invite my fake boyfriend, and soon I’ll be sandwiched between him and my real, but also secret and slightly jealous boyfriend. It’s my own personal hell.

And Toby seems to find it all hilarious, while I squirm uncomfortably as Opal and Gail impale the two of us with suspicious glares.

I’ve made a giant mess of things, but I’m in too deep. This fake relationship needs to fizzle out, and soon. I wasn’t made for the double life. I’m constantly on the verge of needing smelling salts with all the stress of keeping up the multi-faceted charade. Can I add circus master to my resume?

The small talk around the table continues, my face aching from forcing myself not to frown too much. Who knew it took so much effort to appear casual. Ember is chatting excitedly with Jed’s wife, Rachelle, while Colton and Jed trade short sentences about sports. A server bustles around the room that’s softly lit with a warm glow over the rustic wooden tables and chairs. Exposed brick walls adorned with vintage photographs transport patrons into the charm of Italy’s countryside.

I catch a whiff of garlic and herbs as our server places a basket of heaven on the table, the warm rolls practically steaming. The soulful Italian ballad that plays over the speakers seems to come to a record-scratching halt as Ethan enters the room, and the vibe shifts immediately.

Holy cow—the man looks good in a sports coat.

Toby coughs under his breath beside me, hiding a smirk while he slides a napkin into my hand. “For the drool.”

I can’t help it. For so long I fought the urge to acknowledge my attraction to Ethan. But now that I’m dating him, it makes it hard not to appreciate how fine he looks. It’s actually rather sad that I still need to hide my feelings and blatant googly eyes for him.

For the briefest second, his eyes meet mine, flashing a deeper blue that threatens to float me out of my seat and into his lap. Thankfully he greets everyone else before he takes his seat beside me. “Ivy. Toby.” He practically growls when his eyes flicker to the point of contact between Toby’s shoulder and mine. There’s enough chatter in the busy restaurant that nobody notices Ethan’s sudden surliness, but I bug my eyes at him for a second, reminding him to behave.

I need these two men in my life to get along, and as hot as the jealous growls may be, I really want Toby and Ethan to be friends.

“Oh, Ethan, you do clean up nice,” Gail gushes from across the table. “It’s a pity you’re sitting on that side, seeing as you’re the only single man and there’s two perfectly delightful ladies across from you.”

Ethan flashes his devastatingly handsome smile at her, doing that thing where he feigns a bashful glance down, then lifts his head ever so slightly, flashing his pearly whites as his cheeks rise with a face-splitting grin. It’s enough to make me hum audibly. Toby elbows me, bringing me back to the unfortunate reality where he and I need to appear to be an item.

Ethan proceeds to shamelessly flirt with the seventy-year-olds across from him, and I shake my head in an attempt to remember the goal.

Fake it with Toby for a little longer. Try not to look absolutely enamored with Ethan.

Easier said than done.

Ethan leans away from the table, a hand casually resting on the back of my chair. I’m still cozied up to Toby, feeling more awkward than ever. Meanwhile, no one can see Ethan’s hand behind me in the dimly lit room, but it’s certainly there emitting an inordinate level of heat. The thin straps of my sundress leave most of my upper back exposed, causing me to flinch when Ethan’s thumb grazes my skin, tracing soft circles over my back. He pauses long enough to tug lightly on my ponytail, a silent admonishment to sit still and not give anything away. It’s remarkable how the man can carry on a conversation while my brain is practically short circuiting due to his subtle contact.

I suppress a shiver when he slides his thumb under the strap of my dress. Who would have guessed the skin just beside my armpit would be so sensitive ?

Ooh, he’s playing dirty right now, punishing me for bringing my fake boyfriend tonight. Toby snickers beside me as he tries to stifle his obvious amusement at my reaction to Ethan’s touch.

I turn my head to whisper in Toby’s ear, but not enough to put any space between myself and Ethan’s hand. Because I’m a glutton for punishment. “You’re not helping.”

“You’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty funny. I’ve never seen your brain overheat like this ‘cause of a man.” He smiles then moves a piece of hair out of my face. The action clearly pushes Ethan’s buttons, which was undoubtedly Toby’s intention. Ethan has moved on to a different conversation while his hand tugs gently on my dress strap, pulling me ever so slightly away from Toby.

“You could stop antagonizing my actual boyfriend, though,” I whisper back. To anyone else it must appear as if we’re in our own little whispery, mushy love-bubble. Which doesn’t help my plan to bow out of this faux-lationship any time soon.

“I’m sorry.” He smiles. “I’ll make it up to you. But only after I get the chance to gloat and say I told you so.” And then he pulls out his phone, frowning at it before leaning closer. “I’ll see you at school. Don’t look too upset when I leave. It’ll help sell our conscious uncoupling soon.” He winks at me after kissing my cheek.

“But…”

“Vee, we’ll figure everything out. But I don’t know how much longer you can convince your friends that you’re not hopelessly gone for the man sitting beside you, and I’m not going to keep standing in the way of your happiness.”

A deep frown etches onto my forehead and my jaw slackens.

“That’ll do it.” He grins, then stands and politely excuses himself due to a fake family emergency, thanking Ember and Colton for inviting him.

I push my chair in, smiling at Gail’s attempts to comfort me after my ‘boyfriend’ had to leave. Opal only sips her drink, eyes narrowing in their knowing way. I haven’t given anything away, have I? Ethan and I have barely acknowledged one other. And there’s no way she saw his hand on my back.

No, everything is fine. I’m just worrying over Toby’s words and about ending our mutual fake relationship.

I mean, I said it myself. I need this thing to fizzle out, but I haven’t thought about what I’ll say to Gran. If the relationship that spurred her generosity suddenly ends, will she see me as just as fickle as Ross? I know she wouldn’t kick me out onto the streets, but she may ask me to leave, without knowing I have no place and no money to fall back on. I naively gave it all to Ross, and if she finds that out, it would only further prove how irresponsible I am. Just like Ross. Everyone has written him off. And I suddenly don’t feel very far off from that same fate.

The hand that’s rubbing at my temple stills when I feel Ethan’s palm slide over my thigh in a comforting grip. My eyes bounce to his for a second, catching the concern in his expression. But there’s also so much steadiness cemented there. I don’t let my gaze linger, as much as I desperately want to swim in his baby blues. Opal is already watching me with too much suspicion.

Ethan’s hand on my leg helps to ground me, and I manage to calm my thoughts and remain present for the rest of the evening. I’m not even sure why we’re having this get together, but I assume the mothers, particularly Ember’s, are getting to be a bit much as the big day gets nearer, and this is Colton’s way of reminding Ember that she has people in her corner.

An hour later, our bellies are full of the best Italian food I’ve ever eaten, and I’m about ready to slip into a food coma. Opal shimmies into the open seat beside me on the way back from the restrooms.

“A lot of interesting developments happening this evening.” There’s that glint in her eye, telling me this is the setup to whatever she’s about to say next.

“Really?” I squeak.

“Fascinating how Ethan ate his entire meal with his left hand. Like the right one just took the night off.”

I gulp. “Hmm. That is interesting. He should see a doctor about that.”

“Strange how his mood seemed to perk up after your Toby left.”

“Maybe he bumped his head. You should ask him about that. He really listens to you and Gail. Um, excuse me, gotta run to the whiz palace.” And like the coward I am, I speed walk to the safety of the restroom, lingering until everyone is putting on their coats and getting ready to leave.

Ethan winks at me as I rejoin our group, and I catch myself as I’m about to smile in return. Opal’s eyes are also zeroed in on my face, but with much less affection. She means well, but sometimes she’s too inquisitive for her own good. She and Gail have a new-found chumminess with Gran, and I don’t need them spilling any secrets that I’d rather keep to myself.

She’s staring at me like she’s charting all my reactions, trying to find clues in each one.

Ember loops her arm through mine as we walk through the bustling restaurant to the exit.

“You okay? You seemed a bit distracted. It’s not Ross, is it?”

For once it’s not my wayward brother causing my stomach to swirl. But I can’t tell Ember that I’m malfunctioning because her future brother-in-law is too sexy for my own good.

“I’m fine. Ross is Ross,” I say with a sardonic laugh. “Did you enjoy tonight?”

“It was the perfect wedding de-stressor.” She sighs.

“Is wedding planning supposed to be so stressful?” I cringe, hoping this isn’t a ‘that’s just how it is’ scenario . I’m nowhere near this phase of life, but I hope my future holds the type of wedding bells that someone else will organize on my behalf.

“I’m not sure. I can’t imagine everyone has such an opinionated mother,” she says over my shoulder, wrapping me up in a hug when we reach my car.

“What can I do to help?”

“You mean, on top of all the Maid of Honor stuff you’ve already done?”

“Of course. If I can buffer some of that stress, then you bet your butt I’m gonna do what I can.” We shout our goodbyes in unison to Opal and Gail as they wave and pull out of the parking lot.

“Thanks, Vee, but you’re doing enough already.” Ember holds my door open while I climb in. Ethan is chatting with Colton and Jed while Rachelle talks on the phone. It sounds like she’s reassuring their babysitter that they’ll be home soon. Before Ethan slides into his truck, he catches my gaze, lifting his phone with a tiny wiggle. I roll my lips in to hide the grin that wants to overtake my face. With a small dip of my chin I let him know I understand.

“Love you, Em. Give Nicolas a squish from me.”

Colton joins Ember, curling his arms around her from behind. “I’ll try.” Ember laughs as her fiancé kisses her neck. “I’m sorry Toby had to leave. Ooh, we should do a game night or something with the four of us.”

Colton’s eyes jump to Ethan, who’s standing outside his truck with the driver’s side door open. It makes me think Colton knows more than he’s letting on. Although, he apparently hasn’t divulged any of it to Ember, which is commendable .

But I’ve got to backpedal on this happily ever after I can already see forming in Ember’s eyes. Now that she’s found her soulmate, she desperately wants that for everyone else.

I will not, however, be finding it with Toby.

“Oh, um…I’ll let you know. He’s not really a game person. Hates them actually. Total weirdo. Kay, love you, bye!”

I drive away, leaving behind Ethan’s amused grin and Ember’s slightly confused frown. Nothing like an awkward exit to end the evening.

I put my phone on speaker, calling Ethan once I reach the first traffic light.

“Opal knows something,” I blurt out after he picks up.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” He laughs. “Especially after you gave me heart eyes the whole night.”

“Did not,” I whine.

“I’m not complaining,” he drawls, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “You want me to come over?”

“You know I want nothing more than an evening of snuggling with you, but I can’t do another late night, King. I’m already a zombie.”

“I’ll make sure you go to bed early. I won’t stay long.” I can practically hear him pouting.

“Nah-uh. That’s what you said last time, and then we stayed up talking till two in the morning.”

There’s an exaggerated sigh before he changes the subject, keeping me company until I arrive home.

“I’ll say goodbye after you get inside and lock the door.” Again with the assertive tone that I find problematically attractive.

I lock my car, stifling a squeal as I notice Ross hulking near my front door. I mime a shush motion to him, pointing to the phone while I let us inside. Ethan’s assertive tone will increase a few defcon levels if he finds out my brother is visiting. Thankfully Ross nods, seeming to understand my instructions and the stern frown.

I make sure to hold the phone near the lock mechanism as I turn it. “There. Door’s locked.”

Ethan chuckles, and I can picture him shaking his head. “Sleep well, Ivy June.”

“Night.”

My arms instinctively cross over my middle as I hang up and turn to face Ross, who’s jittery energy immediately puts me on edge. His eyes shift constantly—cataloging, watching—like he expects someone to jump out from around a corner.

“What do you want, Ross?”

“Vee…I need the music box.”

I throw my hands up, half-turning before looking back at my ghost of a brother. “This again? I’m starting to think you’d sell this house out from under me if you could. When does it end?”

He chews on his lip, the ball of his foot bouncing nervously. “Are you saying you don’t have it?”

“I’m saying you can’t have it.”

He presses his palms into his eye sockets, then slides his hands up to clench his hair. With a resigned sigh, he nods and walks away.

I march after him only to be met by the reverberating slam of the front door. I engage the locks for the second time, banging my palm against the wood before turning to slide down to the floor. Why can’t anything ever be normal with us? This habit from the past keeps ringing in my ears, nagging me to give in and fix everything. But I know I can’t anymore. I’m Bilbo Baggins, feeling like butter scraped over too much bread, and not even the good butter. I’m the generic, store-bought kind that’s been surreptitiously swapped, wrapped, and slotted into a box of the fancy stuff. I feel like a fraud, walking around pretending that everything is fine. I’m fine. I’m thriving.

Except I’m not.

And that’s when I know Ethan is right, and I have to talk to C.J. There’s still the fear that once she sees my struggles, she’ll declare she hates the generic, store-bought stuff and I’ve repulsed her with my duplicity.

But I guess there’s only one way to find out.