Sunday morning arrived with birdsong and golden light filtering through her bedroom curtains—the kind of mountain morning that felt like a promise. Ivy woke early, her stomach already tight with nervous anticipation, her mind racing through a hundred different scenarios of how today could go wrong.
She showered in water that finally ran hot without complaint, the old pipes having learned their rhythm. Dressed carefully in jeans and a soft blue cotton shirt—nothing fancy, nothing that screamed 'trying too hard,' but nice enough to show she cared. Left her hair down in loose waves because Boone had touched it that way, had buried his fingers in it when he kissed her, and some part of her wanted him to do it again.
Her hands shook slightly as she applied minimal makeup. Just enough to look
