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“Ev said you moved out,” he says quietly.
“She asked me to.”
“That’s not how she explained it.”
“Oh yeah? How did she explain it?” I ask.
He chuckles a little. “She said she was having a hard time separating big sister from boss and thought you two would do better with a little separation, but she didn’t think that meant you’d run to the hockey player’s house.”
“I didn’t run to the hockey player’s house,” I protest. “I decided to move in with my husband like any normal wife would do.”
“Yeah, but is this really a normal husband-wife situation?” he asks.
“Yeah, it is,” I say. “And frankly, I’m tired of everyone thinking it’s not.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says lightly. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I protest. “I’m living with my husband just like Everleigh is living with her husband.”
“It’s different, and you know it,” he says quietly.
“It’s really not,” I say. “I found someone. I fell in love. And I’m not sure why nobody seems to believe me.”
“Because, Ivy, it’s a hockey player. I think we might have been more likely to believe baseball. Do you even know the first thing about hockey?”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “But now I’m learning. And Cash even gave me my first skating lesson.”
I avoid telling him the other first that I’ve had with him.
“So this is it then?” he asks. “You’re really married, and it’s real, and you’re staying in it.”
It feels a little bit like a lie since that wasn’t the original agreement, but I think we are both in agreement that the original plan has shifted. So I simply say, “Yes.”
“Okay. Well, on another note, tell me how you like working with Ev because I talked to Madden the other day, and he was telling me how much he wished you had come to work for him instead.”
“Did you just call me to tell me that I’m making all the wrong life choices, or did you have some other reason?” I demand.
He laughs, and I decide to tell him the truth about my working situation, something I haven’t even yet expressed to my sister-slash-boss.
“I took the job with Everleigh because when I had to choose a major, Dad pushed me into fashion merchandising even though it wasn’t what I wanted to do. And working with Madden felt like it was too close to doing what everyone else wanted me to do instead of what I really wanted to do.”
“And what’s that?” he asks.
“Social media management.”
It feels somehow freeing to admit it and to say it out loud.
He’s quiet for a minute on the other end, and I wait for him to tell me how unrealistic it is when he shocks the hell out of me by saying, “Well, fuck, sis. That’s a much better fit for you than fashion.”
“Really?” I ask, my tone a little disbelieving.
“Really,” he says. “And you can make a killing at it these days with the way social media platforms have exploded over the last few years.”
“That’s what I tried to tell Dad, and I felt like I was on the cutting edge of it four years ago when I had to pick what I wanted to do. And he talked me out of it. But now I’m working with Cash on launching a new brand, and he’s my client. He asked me if I would do his socials full time.”
“What did you tell him?” he asks.
“I told him I couldn’t because I’m working for Everleigh.”
