Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  On the opposite side of the stage from the DJ were the thrones for the prom king and queen, the same as she remembered from high school.

  Blake led Ivy over to a table at the edge of the room where Grant was already seated with his date, a woman Ivy didn’t recognize. Blake had been right about his tuxedo. It was awful. It had black pants and a rust-colored jacket with black buttons and piping along the lapel and pockets. The ivory shirt underneath had ruffles down the center with matching rust thread on the edges.

  Ivy bit her lip trying not to laugh. She got the chance to turn away when Blake leaned down to speak to her over Prince’s cries blaring from the speakers.

  “Do you want some punch?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m going to walk around a little bit.”

  “I’ll find you.” Blake turned and disappeared across the room to the refreshments table.

  Ivy waved at Grant and his anonymous girl before turning and taking a stroll around the edge of the room. She was too nervous about tonight to sit idly. Gloria had assured her that none of the paps would be allowed into the dance—that was probably why Simon was outside—but that didn’t make her feel much better. They’d find their way in, one way or another.

  She waved at people, weaving around tables and decorations. She saw Pepper and Brian getting their picture taken. Pepper was right. He’d gone from nerd to geek chic, quite the handsome guy these days.

  “I just heard about all the excitement this morning, bless your heart. They said you nearly mowed down several small children and traumatized the parade marshals.”

  Ivy tensed up and closed her eyes when she heard the woman’s voice from behind her. Why was Lydia always sneaking up behind her? Taking a deep breath, Ivy turned to face her.

  Lydia had on a tight, short, sequined black dress with a peplum that was hot pink on the underside. There was a big pink bow at her hip that would have made her look wide if she wasn’t so petite to begin with. Her hair was teased and sprayed into submission, making a golden halo around her head like a lion’s mane. She looked just like she’d strolled off the set of an eighties music video.

  “Lydia. I’m sorry you missed it, but honestly, you wouldn’t have enjoyed yourself very much. We both know how much you hate it when I’m the center of attention instead of you. I think you’re the winner tonight, though. I see you got C. C. DeVille’s stylist to do your hair. No one will give me a second glance with that train wreck ingrained in their minds.”

  Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up so high they nearly spilled out of her sweetheart neckline. “I heard you came here tonight with Blake,” she said, pointedly ignoring the insult.

  Normally, Ivy wouldn’t make a big deal about coming with Blake, but if he was right and it would make Lydia miserable, she was all for it. “I did. He asked me at the fair.” Ivy held up her wrist to showcase her corsage. “He even bought me the same corsage he got me in high school. Isn’t that sweet?”

  Lydia’s lips tightened into a thin pink line. She didn’t seem impressed. She seemed like she was ready to throw something. Perhaps Ivy had pushed her too far. “Why is it that every time I’m close to getting something I want, you swoop in and take it? Everything that should’ve been mine went to you instead. You’re not even staying in Rosewood, but you couldn’t stand for me and Blake to be happy together. You had to mess everything up.”

  “Yes, Lydia, that was exactly my plan when I came,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes. “You think I spent all my time scheming on how to take everything you wanted, but you give yourself too large a role in my mind. If you hadn’t spent all your time trying to make me miserable, I could’ve forgotten all about you.”

  “Yeah, right. We both know you were jealous of me because you weren’t good enough for him then, and you aren’t good enough for him now.”

  “Excuse me?” Ivy exclaimed. Was she really starting this here?

  “You heard me. It doesn’t matter how many albums you record or how much money you make, because you’ll always be just a little white trash around the edges, Thrift Shop.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t grow up spoiled and rich? Because my daddy couldn’t pay for debutante training and white-gown cotillions? ’Cause I’m not a member of the Junior League? Please. I never wanted to be like that. I never wanted to be like you. And that was fine with me because Blake didn’t want you; he wanted me. And he still does.”

  “Aww, Ivy. Did you think that just because Blake slept with you that he thought you were good enough for him? Me and everyone else in town could’ve told you he never would’ve married you. You don’t deserve the Chamberlain name and everyone knows it, including him.”

  Ivy wished she had one of her Grammys here so she could hit Lydia upside the head with it. Ivy Hudson. In the cafeteria. With a Grammy.

  “Let’s face it, Blake didn’t want you then and he doesn’t really want you now. He wouldn’t have screwed around with that cheerleader if he had been dating me. I know how to keep a man happy.”

  Ivy felt her blood pressure start to climb. She was right. He couldn’t have slept with that cheerleader because Lydia wouldn’t have let him out of her sight. “But he wasn’t dating you. Even despite your best bitchy efforts to steal him away from me. And he never did date you.”

  “Oh, Ivy,” Lydia’s face drew into a sympathetic frown. “Haven’t you heard? I have dated Blake. Wait . . . let me rephrase. I am dating Blake. As in, currently.”

  “You don’t say.” Ivy wasn’t about to let rat-faced Whittaker ruin her night the same way she ruined her high school years. “Well then, why was he at the fair with me? Kissing me? Coming to the dance with me?”

  “You seem so worldly and yet you’re so naïve, Ivy. You’re nothing but a hot piece of ass he’s courting for the sake of the fund-raiser. Miss Adelia, or Granny, as she likes me to call her, put him up to it. If he’s seen with you and starts a”—Lydia made air quotes—“ ‘relationship’ with you, we’ll get a lot of press and sell more tickets. So he can get his stadium rebuilt and take the team to the championships. And then, once you flit on back to La-La Land, he’ll be back with me, where he’s always belonged.”

  Ivy had faced harsh critics, endured publicly scathing critiques of everything from her voice to her clothes to her body, and shut down abrasive talk show hosts. She was always quick with the perfect response. And yet, when faced with the girl who made her school years a living hell, she was stunned speechless and fifteen again.

  “You saw us kissing the other day, Ivy. What did you think that was about? What line did he feed you to convince you it was nothing, hmm?”

  “He said you kissed him,” she said, finding her voice. “He said that you’re pathetic, constantly sniffing around. He said he’s never wanted you and he never will.”

  “Blake is good,” Lydia noted with a smile. “Did it ever occur to you that he had to tell you all that so his grandmother didn’t find out he screwed up? He’s not supposed to be seen with me while you’re here, but he just couldn’t stay away.”

  Ivy turned to look for Blake in the crowd. She found him talking to a woman.

  “He’s such a flirt,” Lydia chided. “And so virile. He made his way through half the women in town before I finally tamed him for good. It takes everything I’ve got to keep him satisfied and in my bed every night. It’s no wonder you couldn’t keep him.”

  Ivy gritted her teeth, praying for self-control to keep her from snatching a fistful of hair from Lydia’s head. She couldn’t do it. Kevin would be very disappointed if she caused another scene. There wasn’t supposed to be press here, but somehow, she knew, the picture would get out.

  “Enjoy your little moment while it lasts, but remember . . .” Lydia leaned in and narrowed her beady little eyes. “In a week, you go home and he’s mine again.”

  Lydia spun on her heel and stomped away, nearly colliding with Blake in the process. She stopped only a moment to smile sweetly at him before making a hasty retr
eat to the other side of the cafeteria.

  It was just as well. Cameras be damned, Ivy was on the verge of popping Lydia in the face. Blake wasn’t using her at his grandmother’s demand. Miss Adelia had made it perfectly clear how she felt about the interference of Whittaker girls. He wouldn’t go to these lengths just to sell tickets while he secretly dated Lydia. He was a miserable flirt, he always had been, but that didn’t mean he followed through.

  Right?

  Suddenly, Ivy wasn’t so sure. It was just like Lydia to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. Blake had been able to explain away her every concern, but was she just falling for his smooth-talking charm? She’d never thought Blake would cheat on her the first time, but she had been wrong. If Lydia was telling the truth now, this time it was much, much worse.

  This time Ivy was the other woman and didn’t even know it.

  Blake had to wait longer for punch than he’d hoped. The elderly office assistant was making up the cups like she did for the actual students without seeming to realize some of these people were in their forties and could do it themselves.

  When he finally got two cups and turned around, he didn’t make it far. Person after person would greet him and start a conversation. He couldn’t get more than a few feet without being stopped again. Then he looked up and spotted Lydia talking to Ivy. Then he couldn’t move through the crowd fast enough.

  He had deliberately not told Ivy, or anyone else, about Lydia’s part in the morning’s debacle. He didn’t want Ivy worrying about something like that, and keeping it quiet gave him something to pressure Lydia with later if she gave them any trouble.

  He didn’t expect trouble to arrive the same day. As he got closer, Lydia turned and nearly ran into him. She looked at him with a saccharine sweetness he knew meant she was up to no good. He’d threatened her this morning. She either didn’t care what he did or she was going to find a way to get what she wanted without “crossing the line,” as he’d put it. Either way he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.

  He had a hard time choking back his animosity as he approached Ivy. One look at her made all thoughts of Lydia vanish, however. Ivy was red-faced and her gaze was stony and focused on him, not on Lydia. What had Lydia said to make Ivy mad at him? “Are you okay? What did she say to you?” he said sharply.

  Ivy frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong, Blake? Worried I’ll find out that you two are secretly together and just using me for publicity? That the whole town is just using me for publicity?”

  A burst of nervous laughter escaped from Blake’s lips before he could stop it. Secretly together? Publicity? What the hell had Lydia said to convince Ivy of that? “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I was,” Ivy said, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Did you really think it would be okay to publicly be seen with me and privately date her? That isn’t fair to anyone, especially me. I thought something . . .” Her voice trailed off as she swallowed hard. “I thought something was really happening between us again.”

  The smile slipped from Blake’s face. He set the punch aside and gripped Ivy’s upper arms with both hands, holding firm so she couldn’t pull away. “Lydia is just jealous and messing with your head. She and I are not dating.”

  “She said that you were and sounded pretty convincing.” She shook her head sadly.

  “Were,” he repeated, then let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. “This is so embarrassing.” Blake looked over his shoulder at the crowd behind them. The number of people had easily doubled, with the dance finally getting into full swing. There was a line for getting pictures taken and a few couples were already out on the dance floor.

  “I did date her, okay? We went out a couple of times. It was stupid of me, but I thought if we dated and she didn’t have a good time, she’d finally leave me alone.”

  Ivy slowly shook her head, but he wasn’t sure if it was due to disbelief in his story or at how stupid he was.

  “It was a huge mistake. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to turn her off. I tried, believe me. We kissed once and it was awful. I never slept with her. I wasn’t interested at all. I broke it off with her a few weeks ago, before I even knew you were coming back to town. You know how Lydia is. She’s just jealous and starting trouble, as usual.”

  The expression on Ivy’s face was anything but convinced. “Blake, I—”

  “And now,” Gloria announced from the stage, “it’s time to crown our prom king and queen and have their first dance. Blake Chamberlain, please come to the stage!”

  Blake groaned. Not now. They needed to finish this discussion.

  “Go,” Ivy said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Blake hated to walk away when Ivy had that look on her face, but there wasn’t much else he could do. The spotlight found him in the crowd, so he made his way to the stage.

  The attendees applauded as he was given his crown and scepter. It seemed like an odd exercise, considering this wasn’t something anyone had voted for. When they were finished, he stepped to the side and waited for Ivy.

  “And our prom queen tonight is Ivy Hudson!”

  The spotlight found her at the back of the crowd, following her up the stairs to the stage. They pinned on her tiara and gave her a small bouquet of roses “courtesy of Petal Pushers Florist.”

  Ivy stood beside him as the crowd cheered. It was a little surreal to be up here with her again. The first time, they’d been ecstatic to have won. He’d been pumped to be there with Ivy and more than a little nervous to think that tonight was the night. Now, things were different. There was just the blossoming of romance between them. But even so, they once again had Lydia interfering with their happiness.

  “And now, our prom king and queen are going to have their spotlight dance.”

  Ivy put her flowers down on the table as Blake helped her down the stairs to the center of the dance floor.

  The first haunting notes of Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” started. Blake supposed it could be worse. They moved together to the music, slowly rocking back and forth as the occasional lights flashed around them. No press were allowed at the dance, but of course most people had their phones and were taking pictures of their own. This was probably the first prom where the queen looked pissed at the king.

  “Smile, please,” Blake said. “If not so I can enjoy your beautiful face, do it for everyone who came tonight. Otherwise I’ll be forced to do things to make you smile. Like pick my nose. Or sing to you.”

  Ivy smiled, but he wasn’t sure whether it was just to keep him from singing. It seemed sincere enough.

  “Don’t let her ruin tonight,” Blake said. “I wanted this dance to be special, like our first one was. I don’t want to spend tonight with you mad at me.”

  Ivy looked up at him, her green eyes near black in the dim light of the dance. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for being so easily manipulated by her even after all this time. She just . . .” Her voice faded away. “She knows how to go straight for my jugular. Lydia loves to exploit my every insecurity.”

  Blake’s brow knit together in confusion. “You’re a gorgeous, talented, rich rock star. Half the men in America would kill to be me right now. What have you got to feel insecure about?”

  “I’m human, Blake. That girl on the album covers and in the music videos isn’t real. I have as many insecurities as the next woman, especially when I come home to the place and the people that knew me before I was anybody special.”

  “You were always someone special, Ivy. Maybe it took a platinum album to convince you, but you were always special to me.”

  “Blake . . . ?” Ivy said quickly, and then seemed to lose her courage.

  “What is it?”

  Ivy sighed and looked at his bow tie instead of his eyes. “If that night at Auburn never happened and we didn’t break up when we did . . . would you have asked me to marry you one day?”

  Blake was a little stunned by the
question. It was something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Why on earth would you ask that now, after all these years? What did Lydia say to you?”

  A tiny flush of pink embarrassment rushed to Ivy’s cheeks. “Lydia . . . Lydia said you thought I was good enough to sleep with, but that you never would’ve married me because I wasn’t good enough to be a Chamberlain.”

  “Jesus,” Blake muttered, softly shaking his head. If there weren’t a hundred people watching and a spotlight highlighting their every move, Blake would’ve sought out Lydia and given her a piece of his mind.

  “So . . . would you?” Ivy pressed.

  “Yes,” he said simply. “I had every intention of marrying you and making a future together. Ivy, despite the fact that I was the one who ruined our relationship, I was already thinking about rings. I was planning to propose that Christmas.”

  Ivy’s eyes grew wide as Berlin cranked out the last few notes and Gloria invited everyone onto the dance floor for the next song, Madonna’s “Crazy for You.” With the spotlight gone, they were once again blanketed in the dim multicolored lights. Dozens of couples crowded around them, forcing them closer together.

  Blake crooked his finger beneath Ivy’s chin and lifted it so she had no choice but to look at him. “There’s no such thing as ‘good enough’ or ‘not good enough’ to be a Chamberlain. We’re just a family, not a pantheon. Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re not good enough for me.”

  Ivy’s eyes searched his face for a moment. He kept waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, her palms gripped his lapels and pulled him down until their lips met. There was so much emotion in her kiss, so much behind every desperate caress and nibble of her lips and teeth and tongue. Appreciation, desire, relief.

  There, on the darkened dance floor, it was easy to give in to it. He let his hands roam over the slick fabric of her dress. Here, they were public, yet somehow it felt like they were all alone in the crowd. It was just like their first prom all over again. Nervous bodies pressed against one another. Hormones racing with the thrill of the night’s possibilities.