âNo worries, the foodâs getting cold. Letâs dig in,â Ivy said casually, though her mind seemed miles away.
She listlessly picked at the slices arrayed before her, taste buds registering little of the mealâs flavor.
Even now, Balfour was serving her slices just as he always did, meticulously picking off the olives that he knew she detested.
As Ivy watched Balfourâs slender hands at work, she couldnât help but wonder why. Everything was just so inexplicably odd.
âSomething wrong? Youâre looking a bit off. Didnât you pick this place?â he inquired, pausing mid-motion to rest the slice heâd been holding back onto his own plate.
Ivy aimlessly poked at her food with a fork. âOh, maybe itâs the whole Giselle incident from this morning thatâs put me off. I wasnât exactly starving, to begin with. I remember raving about this restaurant, but now that weâre here, it just doesnât seem to hit the spot.
Balfour chuckled softly, not taking her disappointment to heart, âIf youâre not into it, just leave it. We can get the housekeeper to whip up something you like when we get back.â
âWhen Iâm not hungry, nothing really appeals to me,â Ivy declared, locking eyes with him earnestly.
But he just lowered his gaze, âWell, if you donât feel like eating, then donât eat. When youâre hungry, youâll want to eat.â
The tension between them thickened in an instant. Balfourâs head bowed, he absentmindedly nibbled at his food, clearly lacking appetite.
Ivy wanted to ask if he had forgotten his suggestion for her to reconsider their relationship.
She had figured it out now, but why wasnât he asking?
Did he regret bringing it up and no longer want to know her answer or pursue anything further with her?
âLetâs head back,â he said abruptly.
On the way home, they sat in silence, the awkwardness palpable.
Ivy searched for words to break, the tomb-like quiet.
Their times alone together used to be so engaging; she never worried about the lulls or felt uncomfortable. However, since the incident in that diner, all she could think about was who that girl was. Someone was out there, in touch with Balfour in a way she wasnât privy to, and his silence on the matter only deepened her heartache.
However frosty they might be with each other on the road, back home with Alyssa and Dean around, they had to play the part of the sweet, loving couple.
After parking, Ivy sat dazed, unmoving in her seat.
He came around to open her door.
âNo matter what happens outside, we should control our emotions at home. Letâs not worry the old folks,â he said, extending a gentlemanly hand to help Ivy out.
With a sigh, she took his hand, âI know, Iâm an actor. Donât worry.â
He seemed to take issue with her reference to being an âactorâ, frowning slightly, but left it at that.
Hand in hand, they approached the door, releasing their grip as they turned to face Alyssa and Dean.
Ivyâs face lit up with a practiced smile. âWeâre back!â
She let go of Balfourâs hand and flung herself towards Alyssa, miming a hug.
As Balfour felt the warmth leave his palm, he rubbed his fingers together, contemplating the complexities of their intertwined lives.