“He had no right!” She’s standing now, rushing to the door, the rigidness of her turned-out feet alerting me to make a move.
“Ivy, wait.” Cold wind hits my chest from the partially opened door. The hair dryer blows loudly in the next room, a contrast of temperatures from where we stand.
Slowly, I lean forward and shut the door, my arm hovering above her head. She turns to face me, her back pressing against the door. Resin looks between us and settles, his excitement fading. He flops on top of our feet, and I give Ivy a tentative smile, hoping it encourages her not to run away.
Her arms are crossed, and she lets out an adorable—I mean, fierce—huff. “So, he said all that to you. And you just listened to him?”
I reach out and gently wrap her face in my hands, my hands cradling her delicate jaw. “Is this okay?” She nods, and I sigh in relief, even though my lungs feel heavy. Tears brim along the edges of her hot-chocolate eyes, and my heart picks up speed. “Ivy, please listen to me.”
She looks up at me, and a tear slips out.
I stroke her soft skin with my thumb. “You were in New York. You were living your dream. And maybe I shouldn’t have listened to him. But I had known you for only one night at that point. A magical night, to be sure, but not nearly as long as I would’ve liked to disrupt your life like that. He’s known about your dreams for your whole life. You must know that I would never want to hold you back.”
“But don’t you remember what I said? I told you that I wanted someone to really know me. We could’ve known each other, Jace.” Deeply, I inhale as she forces her head down, pushing my hands away, a hint of a sob emerging from her heaving chest. “I’ll talk to him,” Ivy says quietly. “I’m just so . . . Why did we . . . It’s so unfair.”
“It is. All of it.”
“Your sister. My brother. Never seeing each other again. Emmy’s mother and whatever lies she told you.” Her insight causes my eyes to widen as she continues. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Jace.” Ivy places her hands on my chest, and I go completely still. “You didn’t.”
A part of me has always wondered if there’s been some sort of cause and effect on my life. Yes, I made some decisions after Mina passed away that I wish I could take back. But I was grieving. And while that’s never been an excuse, mourning has a way of altering our reality in ways we don’t understand while we’re moving through those dark days. And even though I wish it hadn’t happened, I understand her brother’s motives. I respect him for protecting her.
“Your brother meant well,” I reply. “Our timing was just off, Starlight.”
Her eyes soften slightly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For still using the name you’ve given only me.” She smiles, her eyes red but warmth returning to her face.
“Welcome.” My hands lift, and I pass my thumb over the curve of one of her cheekbones as Emmy walks into the living room, rubbing her eyes, with Angie right behind her.
“Oh, hello, Ivy,” Angie says with a knowing smile after the initial surprise. She looks at me, making all sorts of gestures I will have future questions about, as Ivy leans down to encourageEmmy’s interaction with Resin. I motion for my sister to quit it when Ivy looks at me, and I freeze, my hands still midair.
“Okay, then.” Ivy looks between us. “I have a sibling, so I know code when I see it. I’ll just get going. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Nope!” Angie yells. “You misread. I was trying to communicate to my gigantic, romance-loving brother here that he shouldn’t let you get out the door.”
Ivy laughs.
“I can’t even repeat what you just called me,” I protest. “Why? Just why?”
Angie laughs too, but I catch Emmy’s tired swipe of her eyes once more. She reaches for me, and I hold her close, wishing that the days when she lets me hold her like this would never end. My daughter relaxes completely against me, her head facing Ivy, her hair in a braid brushing against my neck. Already, her breathing is steady, her small rib cage pressing against my heart with every breath, and something about having all of us here together makes me try to clear my throat from emotion. I don’t let my gaze linger on the fact that the woman I care about is here to observe such a quiet moment. There’s no glamour in the four of us standing in the entryway—just the facts. These are the everyday elements that I try to keep moving through, and she’s now a witness to them.
“I’ll just put her to bed, and I’ll be right back,” I say as softly as I can, my hand cradling Emmy’s shoulders. Ivy clocks the gesture and grins, nodding, as Angie gives a nod and a wave to us both before heading back to her room.
“I’ll be here,” Ivy whispers.
“G’night, Miss Ivy,” Emmy’s tired voice breaks through, and Ivy lightly touches her back, rubbing it in a clockwise motion.
Her gaze lands on my left hand, the one with the tattoo of the clock, and I feel the way she’s tracing the foliage wrapped aroundit with her eyes. She searches my face, and I give myself one more moment to cherish having Ivy here in my space, wishing this family scene could go on forever. Then I gather the resolve to walk down the hall to our room. Emmy is too tired for one of the books we’ve been reading, so I tell her my favorite story: How I felt the night that she was born. She falls asleep easily with her mouth slightly open and her long lashes brushing her cheeks. I tuck her in and make sure there’s an extra blanket draped near her feet. For a moment, I stand in the doorway of our temporary shared bedroom and shake out my shoulders before I walk down the hall.
To my relief, Ivy is still waiting in the next room. My brain can’t comprehend how we got here, but even after the grace she showed me tonight, I know that if anyone has ever earned the right to know me at my core, it’s Ivy. I just hope she’s patient enough for us to move through the part of my story that I still haven’t wanted to share or relive. Until now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ivy
The clock strikes seven.
