CHAPTER 132: IVY LOVES ME

"Joey... Ivy loves me," Winn said. "She may need time to think the permanence of things through, but she is coming. So quit with the weird sad face and go get ready to be my best man." There was a glint in his eyes, a fire that no absence or threat could extinguish.

"Winn..." Joey began.

"I said go!" Winn thundered. "She is coming. She has to." His stride carried him past Joey without a backward glance, each step filled with purpose, urgency, and a quiet desperation.

Once inside his room, Winn dialed Ivy’s number again, the repeated buzzing of unanswered calls a tormenting drumbeat. "Babe, come on. Just call me, please. We can talk this out. We can postpone the wedding." He muttered to himself.

He moved to the wardrobe and began preparing for the day, each cufflink, tie knot, and folded shirt a small act of control in a situation that had become maddeningly chaotic. She would come. Ivy would come.

He would wait at the church, standing at the goddamn aisle if he had to, until the sun set and rose again, willing her to appear with every fiber of his being.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Winn’s heart stuttered, a mix of hope and caution surging through him. He swung the door open to find his father standing there, perfectly composed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Morning, Dad," Winn muttered. Winn didn’t bother to fake enthusiasm; his patience was already hanging by a thread.

Tom stepped into the room. "I heard the bride is missing," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"She just needs time to think, that’s all," Winn replied.

Tom smirked faintly, checking his wrist watch. "You think she’ll be done thinking in...two hours?"

Winn looked up sharply, meeting his father’s cool, calculating gaze. "She will not leave me hanging. She isn’t that kind of woman," he said firmly. His throat felt tight, his heart pounding a painful rhythm in his chest.

"Okay. Okay... I just need you to know that a lot rides on you getting married today. Your investors. Your grandfather’s will. Your choice of bride is... appalling, but if it gets things done, then I accept it."

Winn’s head snapped up. "You don’t get to accept her," he said. "You don’t even know her."

"Oh, I know enough," Tom replied smoothly. "The whore-turned-lover who has no pedigree, no business standing beside a Kane." His eyes flicked over Winn. "She’s beautiful, yes. But son, that’s all she has got going for her."

Winn took a slow, dangerous and threatening step forward.

Tom raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. "Okay, big man. See you at the service." He turned. The door shut softly behind him.

Winn stood there, chest heaving, running a hand through his hair. He turned toward the mirror, staring at his reflection. "She’s coming," he whispered to his reflection. "She’s coming, damn it."

*****

Across town, the church on the Upper East Side stood tall. The stained-glass windows caught the morning light, scattering it into soft jewel tones that danced across the floors. Sylvia and Trish stood by the grand doors, each wearing carefully composed smiles that were beginning to crack at the edges.

Sylvia’s fingers trembled slightly. "If she doesn’t show, I swear Winn might lose his damn mind," she murmured, glancing toward the empty aisle lined with white roses and gold ribbons.

The pews were beginning to fill.

"What are we going to do?" Trish asked. Her eyes darted toward the entrance again, as if Ivy might suddenly burst through the gates, bouquet in hand. But all she saw were ushers shifting nervously and Sylvia’s face, composed but tight with worry.

"I don’t know," Sylvia replied quietly. Her clutch purse was clutched so tightly her knuckles had gone white. "Winn believes she’s going to show up, so... let’s just hope that she will." She forced a smile. Her eyes flicked to the altar where the priest waited in hushed confusion.

"I don’t know," Trish repeated, pacing a few steps in her heels. "I really don’t know." She tugged at her hair, her anxiety morphing into agitation. "This isn’t just cold feet—this is glacial. Like, freeze-your-heart kind of cold." She gave a small, shaky laugh that died halfway through.

Sylvia exhaled heavily. "My brother is stubborn," she said, her lips curling in a wry half-smile. "He won’t give up until it’s absolutely, painfully, publicly clear she’s not coming. He’ll stand at that altar all day if he has to."

Trish sighed, then looked down at the ring in her hand—the engagement ring that had once sparkled so brightly on Ivy’s finger. The diamond caught the light in a way that made her chest ache. "I should go give him the ring," she said softly, almost to herself. "Just in case she does show up last minute... he can give it back to her."

She didn’t wait for Sylvia’s response; she just squared her shoulders and walked toward the main aisle.

Inside the church, the atmosphere was thick with awkward anticipation. The musicians were murmuring near the organ, the guests whispering in the pews. Winn sat near the front, elbows on his knees, staring blankly ahead. Joey was beside him, fiddling with his cufflinks.

"Hey, Trish," Winn said as she approached. "Any word?"

Trish swallowed, her throat dry. "No, I’m sorry." She hesitated, her gaze flicking toward Joey, who looked at her with silent understanding. "I... I wanted to give this back to you. You know, in case she shows up last minute." Her voice broke slightly as she reached out and placed the ring in Winn’s palm.

Winn looked down at it, at the ring that symbolized everything he thought he’d secured—the promises, the dreams, the nights tangled in each other’s arms. "She left this behind?" he asked quietly, his thumb brushing the edge.

"Yes," Trish said. "I’m sorry."

For a long moment, Winn said nothing. Then he nodded once, slowly. "It’s fine," he said at last. He forced a faint smile. "She’ll be here." He turned away, staring at the empty aisle. "She’ll be here," he repeated, softer this time, as if saying it again would make it true.

(TheresaScofield, JenniferWillard, You have been reading quietly. You have queen for a day. Ask any questions.)

NB: I had an unhealthy crush on the Scofield character in prison break. My God! I was pathetic!