Jamison said his goodbyes to Professor Brown before hurrying after her.
Ivy was just stepping into the elevator when he stopped the doors with one hand and joined her inside.
Her cheeks were still flushed, and she wouldn’t even look at him.
It was just the two of them in the small elevator. Jamison eyed the bright red tips of her ears and the blush that crept down her neck, a teasing smile twitching at his lips. “Weren’t you brave just a moment ago? What happened–shy now?”
Ivy said nothing.
“Are you really not going to consider Professor Brown’s suggestion? I didn’t even mind being used as a guinea pig, and yet you’re the one getting all flustered.”
She shot him a glare. “Who’s flustered? I just–men aren’t really my thing. It’s not about you.”
He softened, his tone gentle but earnest. “I know you’ve been hurt before. It’s normal to be cautious. I’m not asking you to decide anything right this second, but at the very least–stop shutting me out entirely.” He took the opportunity to make his feelings clear again.
Ivy kept her gaze down, silent, refusing to meet his eyes.
They walked together to the hospital pharmacy to pick up her prescr on. Rather than sending her home with raw ingredients, the staff brewed the herbs into pouches of medicine she could just heat up later–far less hassle.
When Ivy saw the sheer number of packets, her pretty face twisted with dismay. “So many? How long do I have to drink this stuff?”
Jamison hefted the heavy bag and flashed a reassuring smile. “Medicine that works is never pleasant, but you’ll get through it.”
She didn’t reply, but her expression made her reluctance obvious.
“I’m going to call you every day to make sure you’ve taken your dose,” he added, holding open the door for her as they left the dispensary.
Ivy glanced over, instinctively protesting. “That’s not necessary. I’ll take it, I promise.”
After all, it was her own body–she didn’t want to keep suffering every month.
Jamison just grinned, unconvinced. He fully intended to check on her like clockwork, whether she liked it or not.
Once they were in the car, Jamison suggested, “Let’s grab lunch. I’ve already made a
1/2
་་་
reservation.”
Ivy was buckling her seatbelt and frowned at him. “Why do you always make plans without asking me first? Next time, could you at least check with me?”
He shrugged. “If I did, would you ever agree?”
“No.”
He gave her a cool, knowing smile, as if to say: exactly.
Ivy looked at his determined expression, somewhere between exasperated and resigned.
“Your family must be dead set against us, right? Especially Micah Shepherd–he probably
hates this the most.”
Jamison steered the car smoothly, his voice light. “Yeah. He’s been acting like it’s the end of the world.”
Ivy stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? That dramatic?”
“Pretty much. But don’t worry about him.” Jamison’s tone was almost dismissive; he clearly had no intention of letting his nephew’s disapproval get in the way of what he wanted. >
Ivy had no intention of worrying about him, either.
“What about the Windsor family? Have they been bothering you again?” she asked, her tone cool. “After what happened at the museum, they’ve been under e microscope. Emma’s been dragged through the mud online. I guess karma finally caught up with
them.”
Jamison glanced over, his expression soft with concern. “Did they really come after you again?”
“This morning, actually. Security stopped them at the door, and I told them exactly what I thought.”
His face darkened. “Who was it?”
“Adkins and Rosetta,” she replied flatly, refusing to even call them her parents by name.
Jamison was silent for a few moments, then suddenly said, “Ivy, marry me. Let me help you deal with them. What do you say?”