“Romance. Some thrillers.” She nods. I can tell she wants to ask more, so I give her a little more. “She read for as long as I can remember. She’d bring a book to the lake, to parties, to Thanksgiving dinner.” My throat suddenly feels tight, so I clear it.
“What was she like?” Ivy asks quietly.
I smile, looking down at my hands. “Fun, outspoken, a little weird, quirky… everyone loved her.”
“Sounds familiar.” She nudges my elbow with hers, and I huff a laugh, knowing she’s referring to Delilah.
“We were best friends since we were ten. Everyone always assumed we were more than that, but we weren’t. It just wasn't like that. We loved each other, sure, but it was never romantic,” I say, then turn my head back to Ivy. “No one ever believed us, but they also didn't know that webothliked girls.” The corner of my mouth lifts as the waves of nostalgia hit me.
“Oh, shit,” Ivy responds, lightly giggling.
I shrug. “She came out to me as bi in highschool, but I always knew. She had a few boyfriends, but she always preferred women.”
“Well… how did Delilah happen then?” she asks, not rudely just genuinely curious.
I snort and shake my head. “Too much alcohol. Her girlfriend and her had just broken up. I hadn’t been with anyone in months, and was just feeling lonely. We pretty much agreed to scratch the itch with each other,” I admit, wincing before continuing. “The most awkward sex of my entire life.” Ivy erupts, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. “It was terrible,” I say through a laugh. “Six weeks later she came banging on my door with a positive pregnancy test.”
“Oh my god. What did you say?” Ivy asks through her palm.
“I didn’t. I just looked at it andlaughed. Then she laughed. For a long time. Then we agreed to have a baby together. Raise her together. As best friends. Partners.” My voice cracks on the last word.
Ivy places her hand over mine, squeezing lightly. I take a chance, gently interlacing our fingers, and she lets me.
“She had a heart attack after giving birth to Delilah. She got to hold her and feed her and love her for two days. But I left that hospital without her,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Oh, Wes. I– ” I hear a sniff, and look over to see a tear running down Ivy’s cheek.
I reach my other hand up to swipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“Sarah would’ve loved you,” I tell her honestly.
Ivy gives me a watery smile. “I’m really sorry, Wesley. For you and Delilah.”
“Me too.” I let out a long sigh, trying to shake the heartache I’m guaranteed to feel whenever I talk about Sarah, which is rarely ever.
“She would’ve loved your paranormal smut too.” I give her a big grin, trying to add levity to the heavy conversation.
Ivy snorts. “She totally would. I’ve got some good material.”
Our fingers are still laced together, and her palm squeezes mine, still trying to comfort me.
God, I like her.
I squeeze back.
“Oh yeah?” I lean my head against the headboard, and gesture to her laptop on the bed in between us. “Let’s hear it.”
She scoffs. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”
“Try me.”
She worries her bottom lip, like she’s deciding whether or not she's comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me.
“Whatever. You’re not my target audience anyway.”
She pulls her hand from mine to grab her computer, and I feel the loss of her warmth immediately. She plops the computer in my lap, and scrolls up several pages.
“I’ve been trying to work out this sex scene, and I think I’ve just about got it. But it’s still a work in progress,” she rushes out, blushing.
