There were only thirty minutes left before my appointment with Chase, and I already knew this was going to feel strange no matter how it went. Delilah being wary of him made sense, and honestly, Ivy's track record with men did not help his case at all. Either she had the worst luck imaginable, or the universe had a personal vendetta against her happiness. Probably a little of both.
Chase's waiting area was small but clean, modern in a way that felt intentional rather than cold. The walls were painted in soft neutral colors, somewhere between beige and light gray, and there were framed abstract prints that looked expensive without actually saying anything. A low coffee table sat in the center with neatly stacked magazines about mental health, productivity, and relationships. A single plant rested near the window, clearly well cared for.
