Too bad my dreams are completely out of my control.
CHAPTER 4
CHAD
My head still hurts when I wake up the next morning, but at least it’s manageable. I tell the girls it’s a game to see how much we can get done with just some dim light in the room, and they agree excitedly.
Maybe a little too excitedly.
Everything is exciting to them about this trip, which is good, since I worried that detouring from our normal Christmas Day stuff would upset them. My mom wasn’t happy that we weren’t coming to Dallas, but I needed something different. Something to mark the new start that our little family is embarking on. I’ll take the girls to see my parents over New Year’s or something.
I’m combing through Zoey’s fine curls when there’s a tap at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Scarlett cries, hopping up.
“Ask who it is,” I remind her, setting down the comb to follow her even though she’s already got her hand on the doorknob.
“Who is it?” Scarlett yells. I wince and look at the package of ibuprofen sitting on my nightstand. I slept through the night, probably out of sheer exhaustion and my body trying to recover, so I never took any more. I should do that now.
For the girls.
“It’s Ivy,” the voice on the other side says.
Scarlett flings the door open without waiting for instructions from me. “Miss Ivy!”
“Miss Ivy!” Zoey comes running from my bedroom, where we were combing her hair. I try to relax. Clenching my teeth won’t help the lingering headache.
Ivy crouches down to hug them both and looks up at me. “Ready to conquer another step?”
I nod. “Do you have a life coach Spidey sense or something?” I joke.
She stands, and the girls slip their hands into hers. They must have really bonded when they went to see the lights yesterday. “I heard the girls.” She gives me a fake grimace, and I smile. They’re not quiet girls. “First step,” she says. “Grab the ibuprofen.”
“Okay.” I’ve already done this once before, so walking across the room shouldn’t be a big deal. I force myself to move. One foot in front of the other, through the small living room of the suite, entering my bedroom. Three steps to the nightstand. I put my hand over the package and pick it up.
“Perfect,” Ivy says from the doorway. She beams at me like she did last night, and it makes my shoulders relax. “Can you shake two out, or can I help you?”
“I got it.” And I do. If I don’t think about what I’m doing and chantfor the girlsover and over in my head.
Thirty seconds later, two more ibuprofen are down the hatch, and Ivy leads the girls in whisper-cheers they think are hilarious, even though they have no idea why it’s a big deal for me to take a pain reliever.
“Thanks, Ivy,” I say in an undertone. “I don’t know what I would have done without you here.”
Her cheeks flame a deep red, and I realize what I’ve said could sound … romantic? Maybe?
“You’re welcome,” she says before I can clarify that I mean as a friend. Being here for me. Helping me.
Don’t get me wrong: Ivy Hart is gorgeous. She has bright blue eyes and pale blond hair. It’s pulled up into a high ponytail. Even though it’s early, just past eight o’clock, small curls are already escaping the ponytail, making her look relaxed or like she’s already been busy for several hours. Which is quite possible for Ivy. When she lived in Houston, it seemed like she was always on the go.
But she’s way too young for me. I’m pushing forty, and she’s not even thirty yet. And there’s the fact that she’s not looking for relationships, and that kind of woman terrifies me. That’s what Shelby said when we first met.
She never wanted to be tied down, and yet it happened. I kept pursuing her, despite her saying she didn’t want anything serious. I kept expecting her to pull away, or push me away, and it never happened. So I fell in love with her.
But I won’t involve myself with a woman who doesn’t want to date. I don’t even know ifIwant to date. I haven’t thought of it. It’s only been about nine months since Shelby left, though our marriage was over a long time before that. When she started choosing her next fix over her family.
I could have forgiven her. I could have stayed with her and figured out a way to help her or something. But the day she got high with her boyfriend in the house while the girls were asleep upstairs was the day I told her to leave. And what scared me most was that I couldn’t help wondering how often it happened. I came home that night unexpectedly from consulting on a surgery that Shelby would have known would take several hours. There had been a mistake, and two consultants had been called in. I was the lucky one who got to go home. I’d picked up crème brûlée from her favorite restaurant. Things had been so bad between us, and somehow I thought that sharing a dessert and a quiet night to ourselves could put us back together.
I haven’t told anyone that I kicked her out. Law, Carlie,probably Ivy, Shelby’s mom, my family … they think Shelby ran off with her addict boyfriend. And I guess technically they did run off together, away from my house, when I found them there together and told her to leave.
