That laugh. I’ve heard so much of it during the last week.
The flooding kept us inside for two days, so we turned the living room into a blanket and pillow fort and enjoyed a marathon of our favorite Spider-Man movies.
I’m not sure if Slate has ever been happier.
Or me.
We played board games to pass the time. Turns out, Ivy is ridiculously competitive and is also the type of person to read through the rules—even of games we know—before we start to play.
My girl and her plans.
At one point, Ivy let her phone die and acted like it was nothing. Oh, how things have changed in such a short time.
For my birthday, Ivy called the lodge and had a butterscotch cake dropped off at the door, along with ingredients for peanut butter bacon cheeseburgers. Brad was able to make the trip easily using one of the lodge’s off-road-vehicles. A full circle moment.
Ivy somehow turned a day I can barely get through into something tolerable. She did just enough. We cooked dinner together—mostly in silence, but touched each other every chance we got. The thought of cooking with her for years to come was the distraction I needed.
What I respected the most was how she never once asked if I was okay. She knew the answer. No words necessary.
Hazel used to do the same thing. My heart pinches and swells at the same time. It’s always been torture to think of Hazel, and somehow, Ivy makes it easier. She makes all this easier.
A closing closet door snaps me back to now.
“Plus, Slate wants to come,” I say, knowing it’s damn near her kryptonite.
Ivy says nothing as she wraps me up in a hug. Her arms around my waist, her head on my chest. I can feel her smile against me.
“Let’s go get Slate,” Ivysays.
I pull up to the airport departures and put the truck in park. My heart jolts to match. Without looking at Ivy, I open my door.
We leisurely unload her bags from the back. Slate, still buckled in, props himself up with his front legs, his head hanging out the rolled down window. Ivy gives him a kiss between each bag she unloads.
Everyone around us seems to be racing, getting in the airport as fast as possible. Doors slam, bags roll, and horns honk. It sort of smells like chaos and exhaust. Meanwhile, I’m taking my time. Because I know what’s next.
When there’s nothing else to grab, I turn to see Ivy petting Slate and him sneaking licks of her face.
She looks at me and my heart is on the floor. Her lip quivers. That perfect lip. Tears pool in those ferociously green eyes. Heavy like the raindrops that flooded the roads and kept us at my place for two whole days.
The air is gone. I can’t breathe. My whole body feels heavy. It’s almost hard to stand.
This is it.
I pull her in for a hug, resting my chin at the top of her head. We sway back and forth.
“Holland. I don’t want to go,” she cries into my chest.
My hand brushes the side of her hair before twirling a piece between my fingers. It’s something that will calm her down—a trick I’ve picked up during our last week together.
I tip my nose and breathe her in. The comfortable smell of lavender— of Ivy.
“I don’t want you to go.” My voice is quiet because I know it’s about to get all crackly. I suck in a deep breath and push us apart a little. Our eyes catch; hers are red with tears flowing and I bet mine aren’t much better. I swear, my heart aches.
But at thismoment, there’s a shift. It’s subtle but enough for me to feel it. It’s like I was driving a car on two wheels and the third has touched the pavement. Stability. Consistency.
“This is weird.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Ivy’s eyebrows scrunch, a confused look takes over her face.
“Weird?” Her eyes are big as she leans back a bit.
