I risk a glance. She’s grinning.
“That’s not her name,” I say.
“Absolutely is behind her back,” Ivy replies. “Phyllis Philpott. Pee-Pee saved my sanity and possibly my criminal record.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Do you still have her details?”
She studies me long and hard. “Yes, of course. I’m still seeing her. Are you—”
“I don’t need you to ask questions… please,” I add quickly. “And I don’t want my brothers knowing. Not yet.”
Ivy snorts. “You do realise I’m genetically incapable of gossip, right?”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Okay,” she says. “Icangossip. I just choose not to when it matters.” She leans in a fraction. “I won’t say a word. But I am going to say this.”
I brace myself.
“It’s not weakness,” she says. “It’s maintenance. Like servicing a car. Or yelling at the universe in a safe, carpeted room.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Good,” she says. “Because men have a terrible habit of powering through until something actually breaks.”
I glance towards Theo, now crouched to Lucy’s level, negotiating cake logistics with a seriousness usually reserved for international treaties.
“I’m not broken,” I say quietly.
“I didn’t say you were,” Ivy replies. “I said Pee-Pee is very good at keeping things from getting worse.”
She pulls her phone out and taps a note open, sliding it across the counter to me without ceremony.
“There,” she says. "Just make sure you call her."
“Thank you,” I say as I copy the number into my phone.
She bumps my shoulder lightly. “Any time. And Geoff?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, soft but certain. “You’re allowed to ask for help. Even when you don’t have the words yet.”
Then she hops off the stool and heads towards Theo and Lucy, ready to put an end to the negotiations… probably by siding with Lucy.
I stare at the number on my phone for a moment longer than necessary.
Then I save it.
Maybe what I need to heal my dick is some quality Pee-Pee time.
4
Pea-Lime Is in the House
Christa
The pregnancy test turnspink with the sort of decisiveness I respect.
