Tears now stream down her face, dripping along the curves of her leotard at the delicate line of her collarbone. But she doesn’t speak. And because I’m nothing if not intense, I keep going. This woman is going to hear me loud and clear, if only to shine the brightest of lights on why she should believe she’s the most stunning woman in the world.
“When we met,” I continue, “in those life-changing hours, you made me believe that there could be a love just for me. And when I couldn’t get to you . . .” My breathing is heavy, and my ribs feel like they could crack from the pressure of all I’m holding back, but I don’t relent. “A piece of me died, Ivy . . . a piece of me that wanted to believe. So, I tried everything and anything to get over you, never thinking I’d see you again. And I hate that I made the choices that simply took me farther from you. I own my mistakes.”
Ivy wipes the tears from her face with the back of her hand and inhales twice. Just that alone is enough to make me want to reach for her, but I convince my body to wait.
“And then I saw you again. We’re back in the same place. My daughter is learning to dance from you. We’ve reconnected. We’re kissing. I’m able to touch you. And suddenly, I’m seeing possibilities again. It’s like you reminded me why I believed in dreams in the first place.”
“Then why do you keep drawing close and then pushing me away?” Ivy’s words are knives, slicing away the protective layers I’ve forged around my heart.
“Because I don’t know if I’m really what you need. But I also don’t want to let you go.”
“Impossible,” Ivy whispers, and the hint of possibility in her tone makes me both frustrated and unnerved.
“No, Ivy, you don’t know,” I say, hearing the pain caught in my throat.
“What don’t I know?” she demands.
Dread settles in my stomach, the realization hitting me that it’s finally time to give her what I haven’t been able to give her before now. “Jenna—” Just the name makes Ivy’s jaw clench, and it’s enough vindication for me to keep going. “She told me . . .”
This is the part that is the hardest to reveal because even recalling the words makes me feel emasculated. I know my ex’s cruelty shouldn’t affect me, but it does. The words have lingered for years.
I clench my fists. “She didn’t want me to touch her anymore. Near the end of our relationship, she said she hated how it felt when I held her,” my voice cracks. “After she had Emmy, she told me that she regretted ever being with me. It disgusted her to have me touch her. She also added that anyone who told me differently would be lying.”
Ivy gasps. I extend my palms to make a point, looking at my callused fingers, willing them to become more than I’ve regarded them as for the past few years.
“I believed her. Because of that, if you ever . . . if you didn’t want me to . . .” And that’s all I can get out. I’m emotionally exhausted, the weight of what I’ve shared enough to sap my strength.
“Hear me loud and clear,” Ivy says, her voice startling me. Without warning, she jumps into my arms.
Immediately, I wrap my arms around her and hold her as her legs wrap around my waist. Her warm, elegant hands curve around the bottom of my jaw, her thumbs extending toward my cheekbones.
“Here’s the truth of it, Jace.” Her breath hitches. “Whatever happens between us, I never want another man to touch meagain. I never want to dance with another man. Do you hear me? It’s only you. It has to be you.”
A tear leaks from my eye, but I don’t wipe it away. I’d rather it fall than to put her down. I won’t let her go. I’ll always hold her if she wants me to. Even so, I can hardly believe her words.
“Ivy . . .” A second tear leaks out.
She wipes it before motioning for me to put her on the stage. Holding my gaze as she stands, she reaches for my hands, turning them until my palms are facing up, her fingers tracing each one as if she’s memorizing both my fingers and my calluses. Her eyes close as she explores, and the flush in her cheeks is enough to undo me. And then I am undone when she pulls my hands around her waist once more.
“Hold me, Jace,” she says softly.
Tentatively, I pull her close to me, and it strikes me anew that just one of my hands is large enough to cover most of her back and shoulders. She reaches up, pushing her fingers into the hair behind my neck and pulling me down toward her. When our mouths are merely inches apart, she traces each of my features with her eyes before they trail up to mine. In their depths, I see a warmth I’ve never seen from her before and a fire of determination that I already knew burned within. It’s now aimed fully at me.
“Your hands only. Do you hear me?”
For a moment, I let her words sink in, willing them to be true. Her statement burrows into my heart, and I wonder: Maybe what’s most important to our lives isn’t the people who leave us or scar us but the ones who heal us. Maybe we should focus on the ones who find as much magic in being near us as we do in being near them. For the truth is that it wasn’t that I couldn’t hold someone well. For so long, I was just holding the wrong things, the wrong people.
All along, Ivy is the woman meant to be in my arms. And if she wants me to stay near her, then nothing else matters. Without another word, I eliminate those final inches between us and kiss her like she’s the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I kiss her like there’s a piece of heaven that can be found on earth within her love. I kiss her as if, in doing so, I’m conveying how much I missed her and how much I never wanted to give up. I kiss her like I believe her.
And with my hands wrapped around her delicate form and my heart securely in her grasp, she kisses me back the same way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ivy
Good morning, my darling friend! Merry Christmas Eve!” Grey says as she enters my apartment, her hands full of gifts and snow stuck to her cat-eye glasses.
Resin rushes over to his second favorite woman. (I’m his favorite, of course.)
