Page 48 of Lonely Heart

Tate wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Did something happen?”

“No. Nothing specific. There are just some days that are better than others. Today’s been especially busy, and I haven’t had five minutes to think.” When he eyed me curiously, I figured my best option was to shift the conversation. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came down to talk to you about the villas.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you be talking to Marco about them? Or even Liam?”

Tate laughed, and it felt like the biggest slap in the face. Obviously, he didn’t have a clue what I was going through, what was on my mind, so I couldn’t blame him. But it was still frustrating.

My brother had not a care in the world when it came to his personal life. He’d gotten that all worked out and was happily married now. I wondered if he remembered how awful he’d felt when things felt so troubling outside of his professional life.

“I’m thinking the plans for what we do to announce the villas are available are not going to be of any interest to Marco or Liam. But those plans will impact you. I thought we could talk strategy for a bit.”

My eyes slid to Marco. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I expected him to have any options available to get me out of this. Though I could see the disappointment in his stare, he tried to keep things lighthearted. “It looks like your day is just gearing up for more fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.” Returning my attention to my brother, I clipped, “I haven’t had anything to eat yet, so if you want this meeting, I’m going to need it to come with food.”

Tate laughed again. “I’ll order you whatever you’d like to have. Or, if you’d prefer, I can take you out.”

“If only I had known you were buying, I would have waited an hour to take my lunch break,” Marco teased. “I’ve got to getback to work. Good to talk to you, Tate.” He shifted his attention to me. “I’ll catch you later, Ivy.”

A moment later, he was gone. I had to pretend I wasn’t the least bit bothered by how easily he walked off.

I let out a sigh of disappointment, went to my office to grab my things, and returned to where I’d left Tate. “You’re buying and driving.”

Tate led me out of the hotel and to his car.

And on the drive to lunch, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from running wild. Marco seemed to keep trying to find the time to talk to me, even if it never worked out. While he had made that effort, there was something about the ease with which he walked away I couldn’t get past.

Was it a relief for him to not have to address what I’d said?

Without any answers, without having a moment to talk to him, my mind was a mess. And I knew, even when I returned to the hotel later, something else would come up that would stop me from learning the truth about how he felt.

14

MARCO

I didn’t get frustrated.

I always believed there was nothing worth getting that worked up about. What good would it do to lose my mind over something? It was always better to put that energy into solving the problem.

But even if I’d always been able to apply that logic to all situations in my life, it seemed impossible to do it now.

I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so frustrated.

For more than a week now, I’d been trying to get Ivy alone. All I wanted to do was talk to her, to address what I hadn’t been able to address since she’d shared it with me—she was lonely.

It seemed that the moment an opportunity presented itself, someone or something always popped up. And every time it did, I was left wondering if perhaps that was a sign. From the start, Cooper had made it clear where he stood. Was it possible that the constant interruptions were a sign, a warning to not cross a line that could destroy the relationships I had with everyone in the Westwood family?

What made it worse was that I could easily see the look on Ivy’s face each time she thought we’d have a few minutes alone to talk. The lack of a discussion about it was killing her.And while I guess I could have called her late at night just so we wouldn’t have to worry about interruptions, this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone.

So, every night when I climbed into bed, I wound up feeling tortured. I thought about her, about her feeling so alone and believing nobody would ever want her.

And every night, I felt sick about it.

I felt guilty. Like I’d wasted precious years of both of our lives. Why had it taken something so horrible happening to her for me to notice her and how much I wanted her?

This couldn’t go on any longer. I had no choice but to take drastic measures. If I had my way, if things went according to my plan, this was going to be the last night Ivy would ever feel so alone.