“This is Resin,” she says.
Hearing his name, the dog’s tail thumps against the sidewalk. While some sections of the sidewalk have been set with cobblestones, we’re in a smooth part now. I wonder if it’s a sign of my relationship with Ivy. Maybe it can be smoother from this point forward, after we keep moving through the awkward.
“Hi, Resin.” I bend a knee to the ground, the cold seeping through my pants. I’m rewarded with the retriever’s affection and find my shoulders losing their tension. “He looks festive,” I observe with a touch of amusement.
“Yes, well, he just finished walking in the pet parade.”
I raise my eyes to hers to see if she’s kidding. “The what, now?”
“It’s a Christmas parade for pets.” The tiny lift of her chin dares me to make fun of it, even though her grin carries a hint of timid playfulness.
“Did he win?” I’m not sure how else to ask about this event.
“It’s not a winning or a losing event; it’s just about participating.”
Resin leans against me and nuzzles into my neck. The cold press of his nose against my skin causes me to release a surprised laugh.
Ivy stares at him. “Wow, he’s friendly but not usually this affectionate,” she states.
“Well, he knows that I—” I stop myself before blurting out how much Resin’s owner means to me. Has meant to me. How can I say how much her dog and I both want to follow her anywhere without coming on too strong? How can I explain that, besides Emmy, the woman before me might be the person I wantto protect the most in the world? Instead, I clear my throat. “He knows that he’s got the best mom,” I conclude.
To my alarm, Ivy’s eyes fill a bit at my words.
“Did I say something wrong?” I rise swiftly. “Clearly, I did, if it’s affecting you like this. I’m sorry. I meant well.”
She sniffles lightly, reaching up to wipe her eye with one of her mittens. “No, I’m good. We’re okay—about that, at least.” She pauses. “I just . . . sometimes, I realize he may be the only one to give me that title, even for a pet.” I watch her ballerina posture slump a little. “But that’s more than you need to know, right? Since we’re not friends and will never be.”
I open my mouth and close it again. Ivy wants to have a family? My pent-up affection draws me toward her like the moon to the tide. Inconveniently, it also reminds me that one of the stupidest things I could’ve believed is that I would be able to stay away from her when I first discovered that we now share the same zip code.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she hastens to admit softly. “Can’t seem to stop saying things when it comes to you.”
Her somber grin nearly sends me to my knees. I decide to help ease her anxiousness by changing the topic.
“I should’ve said this earlier, but you’re not in New York,” I add quickly, knowing I’m stating the obvious like a fool who has clearly lost his game once more.Note to self: Carry a candy cane in my pocket for the rest of the season.
Ivy laughs incredulously. “No, I’m not.”
Her eyes drift to the inn behind me. When I turn to look over my shoulder, a couple is staring out of one of the windows. They are waving, and a grandmotherly woman beside them is giving a thumbs-up.
“Do you know those people?”
“Yes,” Ivy says with a laugh and a half-wave in their direction. “That’s my family. Well, some of them. My parents and grandmother. They own the inn.”
“Ah, I see. I didn’t know that.”
“Well, we’ve never had a chance to talk much about each other’s lives.” Her words could sound harsh, but instead, they’re laced with sadness.
I stare at her as Resin leans against my leg. “No, we didn’t.” My voice is equally sad.
“So, Emmy is a trip.” Ivy’s eyes brighten when she mentions my daughter.
I hum. “Yes, she is. Big heart. Lots of dreams.” I force myself to say something nice to the unique woman in front of me, something that will test the tension between us. “Thank you for teaching her to dance.”
“It’s my job.”
“Yes, but I know it could be challenging since she’s my kid. I don’t mean that arrogantly. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“Please, don’t say that.” Quickly, her face whips toward me, eyes more fiery than I’ve ever seen them.
