“Gabe, I don’t know if I can sign it,” Ivy whispered. She glanced at the ground, hugging herself.
“Hey, Princess, you don’t have to think about it now.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in her magnolia scent.
He opened the car door for her and paused before opening his door.
He fucked up. She had to sign the contract. It’s what they agreed on; more than anything, he just wanted them to return to normal.
As they drove through the neighbourhood, with its mansions and sprawling properties, Ivy checked her phone.
“What’s up?”
“Just letting Dad know what time my plane gets in on Thursday. I can’t wait to see them. They would love to see you.”
She was too good for him. That was the truth.
“I said I would think about it, okay?” He didn’t mean to snap. But Ivy’s parents were great as on TV, and he always felt uncomfortable around them. Like, he didn’t know how a typical family acted.
Ivy didn’t say anything until they were at the door of their condo. Her hurt expression pulled at his heartstrings. He had fucked up this night so badly.
“Ivy, thanks for coming to dinner with me. And I’m sorry.”
She nodded, grabbed his hand, and smiled. “I know you’re trying, Gabe. I just want to go to bed.”
He’s trying? Shouldn’t it be her that’s trying? He pushed away how irked her comment made him feel.
“I’m going to take a quick shower, okay?” Ivy kissed his cheek.
“Okay.” Gabe smiled at her, wanting to restore their earlier harmony.
While Ivy took her shower, he paced around their condo, finally calling Xander. He left his boss a message, saying he was ready to be back in the field and asking if Xander would reconsider.
Work gave him focus. It gave him that feeling of having a purpose; without it, he was one unfocused, angry mess in a hardened shell. It sucked.
He made Ivy’s favourite nighttime tea and brought it to her as she finished her shower.
“Peace offering?”
“Thanks.” Her big eyes took him, and she shook her head. “Gabe, I don’t feel up to talking or doing anything tonight. I feel like I haven’t processed what happened.”
“That’s okay.” He twirled a piece of her hair around his fingers. “Your hair is always so silky. I’ve missed your hair.”
“Just my hair?” She smiled slightly.
“No, I’ve missed you. Seeing you in our bed, finding your books laying on the coffee table, your jacket over the door in the closet instead of hanging it up, the smell of your French press in the morning. You, all of you.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, long and slow.
In that kiss, he pushed into her how sorry he was and how much he hoped he could be better.
“I’m going to bed now.”
“I’m going to get in right next to you, okay?”
“I would like that.” She put a hand on his chest, leaned her forehead against his, and he took her mug from her, put it on a shelf and hugged her hard. He didn’t need anything outside of this room. He didn’t need the approval of his father or brother. He didn’t need to chase the high of some dangerous work op.
“Baby, I’m sorry.” He kissed her with all the tenderness he had. He didn’t deserve her. If only he could let all of this go.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Maybe you can go talk to someone?”
“Like a shrink?”
