Chapter 740

“Of course it’s for the Coffee Festival! Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about Neo Haven’s coffee scene—it’s world-famous. Just last month, both the champion and runner-up at the World Barista Championship in Italy were from Neo Haven. I’m planning to meet them while I’m there,” Bob explained enthusiastically.

Ivy listened to her lengthy explanation with a smile, nodding along, but keeping her thoughts to herself.

It was getting late when the study door creaked open again—Dr. Ludwig had come to fetch his wife for bed.

Ivy caught her husband by the arm, nodding toward the laptop screen.

Jamison looked confused. “What’s up?”

“Look,” she said, pointing at the screen. “Sophia wants to visit again, supposedly for the Coffee Festival. But I think that’s just an excuse.”

What she really meant was, Sophia was using coffee as a pretext—she was coming to see Dale Sullivan.

Jamison glanced at the chat log and didn’t bother to comment. Instead, he leaned down, scooped Ivy into his arms, and said, “Who cares what anyone else is doing? Time for bed.”

As Ivy found herself suddenly airborne, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering in protest, “Wait, I haven’t shut down the computer yet.”

“Forget it,” he said.

Ivy didn’t need to guess what was on his mind; she could practically read it from the look in his eyes.

Honestly, the nightly dance of restraint was starting to wear on both of them, leaving them restless and frustrated—it couldn’t go on like this.

Looking up at his face, now just inches from hers, Ivy spoke seriously, “Maybe I should stay at Golden Maple Estate for a while. When the time’s right, I’ll come back.”

Jamison carried her steadily toward the master bedroom, frowning at her suggestion. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Ivy replied. “This constant back-and-forth every night—doesn’t it drive you crazy? It can’t be good for either of us.”

After all, she’d read somewhere that constantly having to suppress desire could cause problems for men in the long run. The last thing she wanted was for her young, healthy husband to suddenly have issues when the six-month mark was up.

Jamison’s frown deepened. “And you think moving out is the solution?”

“It’s not like I want to. It’s just the situation we’re in.”

“No,” Jamison said flatly, not even giving it a moment’s thought.

Ivy fell silent. She’d known he wouldn’t agree, but she hadn’t really planned to wait for his permission anyway. She already had clothes and shoes at Golden Maple Estate. Tomorrow after work, she’d just head over there.

Later, as they lay in bed, Ivy tried to distract him from his wandering thoughts by steering the conversation back to business. “Any updates from Boyd on the arson investigation at the villa?”

Jamison shifted onto his side, pulling her close as if she were a throw pillow he couldn’t let go of. “I’ve been swamped at work and haven’t had a chance to ask. I’ll check in with him tomorrow.”

“Baillie’s been asking about it too, but I’m not planning to get involved again.”

“Good call. The arson’s almost certainly tied to the Windsor family. You’re better off cutting ties—no need to get dragged into their mess.”

As he talked, Jamison’s hand slipped under her pajama top, coming to rest on her chest—pure habit.

Ivy tensed and quickly tried to pry his hand away. “Jamison, don’t-”

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything. It just helps me fall asleep,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss behind her ear.

Ivy’s face burned; she bit her lip and said nothing, refusing to dignify his so-called logic with a response.

The next evening, Ivy had to work late. By the time she left the office, it was past seven. Rain had cooled the air, and traffic was a nightmare.

She slipped into the car and told her bodyguard, “We’re not going to the downtown apartment tonight. Head to Golden Maple Estate.”

Halfway through the drive, her phone rang. It was Jamison.

“Are you home yet? I got held up at the hospital and just left. Traffic's a mess tonight, and I’ll be late. If you’re hungry, order some food first.”

Neither of them had a knack for cooking, and their jobs kept them busy. The house was stocked with takeout menus from all the best places nearby—good food, reliable service.

If they finished work early, they’d eat out before heading home. If it was late, they’d have dinner delivered.

Sometimes Ivy would wonder if their lives were too easy, too lacking in routine, and she’d ask Jamison if he minded her laziness, never learning to cook.

He’d always answer, “Why would I care? I married you, not a chef. Cooking takes too long—it’s just not worth it. Whatever’s easiest, that’s what we’ll do.”

He’d even planned ahead: when they had kids and couldn’t eat out or order in as much, he’d just bring over a couple of staff from the old family house.

Their approach to life was simple: comfort over everything.

Hearing his familiar, easygoing tone, Ivy felt even less inclined to learn her way around the kitchen.

After he finished giving instructions, she replied, “I had to work late too. Just left the office, still on the road. I’m heading to Golden Maple Estate tonight—Katrina’s back, so I’ll keep her company.”

That was a lie.

It was the only way to keep Jamison from showing up—otherwise, he’d be at Golden Maple Estate before she even arrived.

But Jamison saw right through her little trick before she’d even finished speaking.

“So, to avoid me, you’re splitting up another couple? Isn’t that a bit cruel?” he teased, laughing softly.

“Hardly. Katrina never lived with Naylor anyway. She’s either at the hospital on night duty or at school, and sometimes she comes back to Golden Maple Estate for a night. It’s not like I’m meddling,” Ivy replied, doing her best to sound completely innocent.