CHAPTER 11
Ivy marked each day on a little pad of paper she’d found in the drawer beside the bed where she and Mason had taken to spending their nights. When she woke in the morning, she made another mark, smiled at the still-sleeping form of Mason, and went to the island to make coffee and scramble eggs.
The routine was so common now, it felt like she’d been doing it for years instead of only seven days.
Seven days.
They only went to the yacht to sleep, something about being contained inside a room, with a roof, that made them both more comfortable than sleeping out under the stars.
“Which is weird for me, honestly,” he’d told her. “I’ve spent my whole life out on a ranch. Many nights underneath only the stars.”
Ivy had told him things were different now, and maybe he wasn’t as cowb
