We exchange niceties for some time, Ivy feigning comfort, and doing so with ease. She knows every right thing to say, and every wrong thing to avoid. I've never seen her so robotic. So neutral. The only way of knowing how truly terrified she is, is by the way she's squeezing my hand once, twice, three times. I squeeze back in reassurance.

"If you'll excuse us," Ivy's dad eventually says, looking at my parents. "I'd like to talk privately with my daughter." His daughter? He's acting like he has any authority over her. Like after leaving for so long he can barge back into her life, and control it.

Before I can say anything, Ivy gets up, giving me a look of reassurance before leaving the room. And once she does leave the room, I let myself get angry. "Are you guys fucking serious?" I ask.

"Mind your tongue, Aaron." My mom points a demanding finger at me, the same one she used when telling me every idea I had was dumb. Every dream a stupid idea. I'm not afraid of it anymore.

"You could've told me he was coming. A fucking text, or a phone call. What gave you the right to bring him here without her permission?" I'm getting loud, and my restraint crumbling.

"If it weren't for her father, she wouldn't even have a chance with us. Be grateful." My dad's words almost make me laugh.

"You want me to be grateful for the mess you created? That's pathetic, even for you." I get up, and pace.

"I mean I left your fucking house. I went to the college you wanted me to go to. Everything. Every fucking thing I listened to. And now you want to take her away from me too." I shake my head, in disbelief. "The one person..."

"Like I said, we're okay with you being together," my mom interrupts. "If Ivy reconciles with Mr. Blake. Think about it, Aaron. It'd be good for business..." And that's when everything starts to click.