The faculty apartments sat by the school’s other entrance, meaning they had to cross the entire campus–right through Decadence Avenue.

Despite the biting cold, the grounds buzzed with life. Students strolled along, some singing, others roughhousing or hosting club events, the air practically crackling with youthful energy.

Jamison, caught up in the atmosphere, couldn’t help but sigh, “Youth is wasted on the young–so carefree, nothing to worry about.”

Ivy glanced back at him, grinning. “Oh? Don’t tell me you consider yourself old already?”

“I’m six years older than you, and I’ll be thirty soon. Isn’t that old?” he teased.

Jamison was five years older than Micah Shepherd, but Micah still had a year on Ivy. Ivy and Jamison had been together for half a year now, but she’d honestly never given their age gap much thought–until Jamison brought it up.

Now, she suddenly felt like she’d gotten the short end of the stick. “That’s practically two generations between us! I swear, I only fell for you because you look so young.”

Jamison shot her a look. “Wasn’t it my irresistible spending power that won you over?”

“Nope–your face first, and maybe your wallet second,” she quipped.

She wasn’t like Emma or Baillie Windsor, willing to do anything for money. Besides, she’d already set her sights on a comfortable little fortune for herself. A self-made woman, thank you very much.

Jamison laughed, touching his face with mock concern. “Guess I need to invest in some serious skincare. Maybe I should ask the hospital’s cosmetic surgery department how to preserve my looks–keep my wife in love with me as long as possible.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at his antics, pretending to swat at him. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? You might as well get a full makeover–go for the young Chris Hemsworth look while you’re at it-”

Before she could finish, Jamison suddenly pulled her into his arms, shielding her as his other hand shot up and, with a sharp twist of his wrist, caught something mid-air. There was a loud thwack–he’d just intercepted a basketball out of nowhere, trapping it easily in one palm.

Chapter 708

Ivy flinched at the sound, ducking instinctively. When she finally peeked up from his embrace, she saw Jamison lowering his arm, the ball secure in his grip.

That was close!

Why did she always seem to attract rogue basketballs?

From the courts nearby, a tall, skinny guy jogged toward them, apologizing profusely, “Sorry! The ball didn’t hit you, did it? I’m really sorry about that!”

He was bowing and nodding even before he reached them, clearly mortified. Jamison, stone-faced but not unkind, simply tossed the ball back.

The guy caught it with practiced ease, then gave Jamison a long look–maybe impressed by his height, or the effortless way he’d caught the ball. Either way, he must have pegged Jamison as a fellow player–or maybe even a teacher.

“Hey, sir, any interest in joining our game? We could use another man,” the guy offered hopefully.

He’d mistaken Jamison for a faculty member.

Ivy blinked in surprise and turned to Jamison. “Wait, you play basketball?”

Jamison hadn’t intended to get involved, but with Ivy’s interest piqued, a sudden competitive spark flared–especially remembering that Celeste’s younger brother, had a thing for Ivy, the campus heartthrob and star of the basketball team.

“Basketball? How hard can it be?” Jamison replied, feigning indifference.

“Great, we’re one short! Come on, join us!” the student urged, bouncing eagerly.

Jamison shot Ivy a look. “What do you say–should I play?”

Her eyes lit up, clearly excited, though she tried to sound concerned. “But you just ate. Won’t you get sick?”

“No worries. I didn’t eat much anyway.”

“But your hand isn’t fully healed yet,” she fretted, remembering how he’d scraped his knuckles bloody on her scumbag brother-in-law just a few days ago.

“It’s fine–it didn’t even slow me down in the operating room,” he said with a wink.

She could see he wanted to show off a little, so she grinned and nudged him. “Go on, then knock yourself out.”