Harper arrived at Ivy’s cottage earlier than expected, her car crunching over the gravel driveway at precisely 8 a.m. It was unusual for her to be up and about at this hour—she wasn’t exactly a morning person—but she wanted some uninterrupted time with Ivy, free from Kim’s meddling presence.

Standing at the cottage’s front door, Harper hesitated for a moment before knocking. The soft morning light bathed the house in a golden glow, and she found herself shifting nervously, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets.

Seconds ticked by with no answer. Harper frowned, about to leave, when a faint melody drifted through the air. A soft, sweet humming carried from the woods nearby, accompanied by the occasional crunch of footsteps. She spotted a flash of baby blue among the trees and decided to investigate.

Walking carefully through the wooded path, Harper followed the sound. Soon, she came upon Ivy crouched low to the ground, snipping fresh herbs with a pair of garden shears. She wore a baby blue sundress with delicate spaghetti straps that slipped down her shoulder, and an oversized pastel cardigan hung loosely over her frame. Her boots were dusted with dew, and the basket in her hands brimmed with mint, thyme, and rosemary.

“Good morning,” Harper called out, her voice soft but enough to announce her presence as she deliberately stepped on a twig.

Ivy looked up, startled, but her face quickly broke into a radiant smile. “Oh, Harper! Morning. I didn’t expect you so early.”

Harper scratched the back of her neck, stepping closer. “Hope I’m not intruding. Thought I’d swing by and get a feel for the place before the chaos starts.”

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to know I’m not the only early riser,” Ivy said, standing with her basket in hand.

As she moved toward Harper, her boot caught on a stone hidden beneath the undergrowth. She stumbled, and before Ivy could hit the ground, Harper darted forward, catching her easily. Ivy found herself pressed against Harper’s chest, her basket dangling from one hand as Harper’s arm encircled her waist.

“Whoa, you okay?” Harper asked, her voice low, her blue eyes searching Ivy’s face with concern.

Ivy braced herself against Harper, her cheeks flushing. “Y-Yes! Sorry, the ground’s uneven here. I trip all the time,” she said with a sheepish laugh.

Harper smirked but didn’t immediately let go, savoring the way Ivy fit against her. “Maybe you need a guide,” she murmured, finally setting Ivy back on her feet but keeping a steadying hand on her arm. “Come on, let’s get you back to the house.”

Ivy nodded, her heart thundering in her chest as Harper’s hand found hers. Harper’s touch was firm but gentle, and Ivy felt herself leaning into the moment, letting Harper lead her back to the safety of her little sanctuary.

Inside the cottage, Harper took a seat on the plush couch as Ivy disappeared into the kitchen. The soft clatter of cups and the faint hiss of a kettle filled the cozy space. Harper let her gaze wander, taking in the charming details of Ivy’s home: the dried flowers hanging by the window, the mismatched throw pillows, the warm, inviting clutter that made the place feel alive.

Fifteen minutes later, Ivy returned with a tray of freshly brewed mint tea and a plate of golden toast slathered with homemade strawberry jam. “Breakfast is served,” she said with a small laugh, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

Harper sat up, accepting a steaming cup from Ivy’s hands. “Thanks. You didn’t have to go all out.”

“It’s nothing, really. I always make tea in the morning anyway,” Ivy said, pouring a cup for herself and settling into the seat beside Harper.

They ate and sipped their tea in comfortable quiet, the early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. Conversation flowed easily between them, light and unhurried, as if they’d known each other far longer than a few days.

When they finished, Ivy wiped her hands on a floral dish towel and leaned back. “Alright,” she said, cradling her cup. “Now that you’re here early, how about I show you around? It’ll help with the content, and I can show you the canvas I was thinking of using for your portrait.”

Harper raised an eyebrow, setting her mug down. “A tour and a sneak peek at the masterpiece? I must be special.”

Ivy chuckled, standing and motioning for Harper to follow. “I wouldn’t call it a masterpiece yet. But come on, you’ll see.”

As Harper followed Ivy out of the room, she found herself grinning. The day had barely begun, but something about it already felt right.

***

The tour started with the cosy living room, where shelves overflowed with books and knick-knacks, each with a story Ivy was eager to share. Harper filmed snippets on her phone, zooming in on an antique globe and a dried lavender wreath hanging near the window.

“This place is like stepping into a Pinterest board,” Harper said, her voice dripping with faux skepticism. “Do you even own a TV?”

Ivy grinned. “Nope. I have a projector, though. For the occasional movie night.”

“Of course you do,” Harper smirked, but there was a hint of admiration in her voice.

From there, Ivy led her outside to the garden, where raised beds overflowed with vegetables, herbs, and a rainbow of flowers. Harper lingered by a row of sunflowers, capturing a quick video of Ivy tending to a patch of mint.

“This is where the magic happens,” Ivy said, straightening up and brushing dirt from her hands. “Well, part of it, anyway.”

Harper tilted her head, intrigued. “And the rest?”

“Inside.”

They returned to the cottage, and Ivy opened a door near the back of the house, revealing her art studio.

The room was bathed in soft light streaming through wide windows. An easel stood in the centre, surrounded by jars of brushes, tubes of paint, and stacks of neatly arranged canvases. A large, blank canvas leaned against one wall, its surface pristine and intimidating.

Harper whistled low, stepping inside. “Okay, this is... a vibe.” She ran her fingers over the edge of a table, careful not to disturb the organised chaos of Ivy’s supplies.

“It’s my little sanctuary,” Ivy said, her voice quieter now, as if stepping into the room shifted her into another state of mind. She walked over to the large canvas, resting a hand on its edge. “This is the one I was thinking for your portrait.”

Harper raised her eyebrows. “That’s... huge.”

Ivy smiled, brushing her fingers along the edge. “I like to think big. You’ve got a strong presence—big personality, big energy. I wanted the piece to reflect that.”

For once, Harper didn’t have a quick retort. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling the weight of Ivy’s gaze.

“Right. So, what’s the plan? You make me look like royalty or something?” Harper asked, recovering with a playful grin.

Ivy laughed, leaning back against the canvas. “Something like that. But first, I’ll need to get a sense of you. Your energy, your style.” She gestured to her art table. “We could start with some photos or sketches today if you’re up for it.”

Harper glanced around the studio, the sunlight catching in her hair. “Yeah,” she said slowly, her grin softening. “Let’s do it.”