Chapter 475

His heart was racing, and for a moment, it felt like his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Mr. Jamison, who was usually the picture of composure–even if the world were crumbling around him–was, for once, flustered. He was scattered, genuinely nervous.

Suddenly, everything clicked. No wonder Ivy had been grinning at her phone the entire ride over, unable to stop smiling. She’d even “casually” asked him about that fellow doctor she’d befriended online–how he hadn’t been around lately, not replying to her messages. Did Jamison think something might have happened to him?

It was so obvious in hindsight. She’d been testing him, deliberately teasing. She’d known all along that he was “Dr. Handsome.”

The more Jamison thought about it, the more unsettled he became. But when exactly had she figured it out? This woman was far too calm, too collected. She’d played along with his little charade for so long without giving herself away–not even a hint. The realization sent a chill down his spine.

Logging into WhatsApp, Jamison opened up the group chat and started scrolling through the conversation history, combing through layer by layer. The further he read, the deeper the crease between his brows. What really made him feel doomed, though, was the fact that “Mrs. Smith“- who had already gone into the villa – was still chatting away in the group.

Bob: Mrs. Smith, come on, stop stringing us along. Spill it! You two are definitely a thing.

Mrs. Smith: Nonsense. If you’re counting legs, we definitely have four between us.

Bob: [eyeroll + sweat] That’s the coldest joke I’ve heard.

Dale: I just called Dr. Handsome. The truth will be revealed soon.

Mrs. Smith: @Dale, so what did he say when you called?

Dale: He hung up before I could even finish my sentence.

Jay: What does that mean? Is Dr. Handsome mad?

Coach Murphy: See? That’s what you get for playing matchmaker. One’s married, the other has a girlfriend, and you’re still trying to pair them up.

Out in the villa’s garden, under the shade of the gazebo, Ivy was reading the chat, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Not far away, a tall, striking figure appeared. His expression was tense, almost stifled. His stride was heavy, hesitant.

Ivy set her phone down, fingers laced together on the table, perfectly composed, just waiting for him to walk right into her trap. Jamison, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white, stared at his wife in the gazebo, eyes dark and searching. Halfway there, he stopped. His legs felt a little wobbly.

Ivy’s lips curled into a cool, mocking smile. So even the unflappable Mr. Jamison could get nervous and lose his cool. Who would’ve thought? Even though it was late afternoon and the sun was lower in the sky, it was still blazing hot. After her brief smirk, Ivy called out in a languid voice, “Dr. Handsome, are you planning to stand there until you turn into beef jerky?”

Jamison’s nerves jumped. His lips pressed even tighter together. Well, there was no escaping it now. May as well get it over with. He drew a slow breath, clenched his trembling fist, and forced his long legs to move again.

Once inside the gazebo, Ivy looked up at him. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, but they were cool. Her features were striking, but her gaze was steady.

“You–you knew all along…” he started, voice distinctly lacking in confidence.

Ivy countered, “Knew what, exactly?”

Jamison’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He walked over and took a seat on the wooden bench. “Ivy, how about we eat first? Once you’re fed, you can put me on trial all you want.”

Ivy nodded. “Deal.”

The relief on his face was obvious. He signaled to the owner–a poised, elegantly dressed woman–who glided over to their table. “Mr. Jamison! It’s been too long.” The owner greeted him with stately warmth, then turned to Ivy. “And this must be Mrs. Jamison. The rumors don’t do you justice.”

Ivy smiled. “Thank you. You’re even more elegant in person.”

“Mrs. Jamison, you have a way with words,” the owner laughed, then turned back to Jamison to confirm their order.

Ivy had never been here before and didn’t know what to choose, but she trusted Jamison to pick something she’d like. She returned her attention to her phone, still following the group chat.

Bob: @Dale, you’re always saying Dr. Handsome is super good–looking. Got any pictures?

Dale: Nope. I’d feel weird asking him for one, and sneaking a photo would just be wrong.

Jay: @Mrs. Smith, where’d you disappear to? If we don’t sort this out today, I won’t sleep tonight.

Ivy chuckled at the screen, then got up, walked behind Jamison, and–click.

Jamison turned, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just picking out dinner.”

She returned to her seat and sent the photo.

Mrs. Smith: There’s no portrait, but here’s a shot from behind.

Instantly, the group exploded again.

Bob: He looks tall and solid!

Coach Murphy: Looks like he’s pushing six–foot–three… Wait, you two really are

Jay: @Dale, you know Dr. Handsome–does that back look familiar?

Dale: It does! That’s definitely Dr. Handsome! So you two are actually together! @Mrs. Smith @Dr. Handsome!

Bob: Oh my god, we got played. So unfair! [crying emoji]

Ivy replied, her smile cool: I got played even worse.

Coach Murphy: I stuck up for you guys, and turns out the joke’s on me…

Ivy’s shoulders shook with laughter. Maybe there was some truth to the stereotype about athletes being a little slow on the uptake.

Jamison finished confirming the order and glanced at his wife, who was still smiling faintly. She didn’t seem angry, which gave him the courage to lean over and peek at her phone. “Still chatting?” he ventured, trying to smooth things over. When he saw the group’s latest posts, his jaw dropped. “Why did you take a picture of my back?”