47. Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-four
Brynn
Gordon Ramsay is purring on my chest when I wake on Saturday morning. Gently pushing him away, I rub my eyes, squinting as light slips in through the eyelets in Leo's curtains, bathing us in a golden line of sun dust.
"Good morning." The man himself rolls onto his stomach and graces me with a sleepy smile. "Sleep well?"
"Once you let me go to sleep, yes." I laugh, running my fingertips up his arm just because I can.
I stumbled into his bedroom after another nightmare in the early hours of the morning—something about being the reincarnated spirit of Joan of Arc, I don't know—and he made me forget all about it the very moment his lips touched my skin. In fact, he made me forget all about it three times over last night.
He is insatiable.
But there are worse things in life than being ravished by a man like Leo Sullivan, I suppose.
"Any plans for today?" he asks, pushing himself up into a sitting position with two strong arms, muscles rippling with the movement. Catching where my attention has drifted to, he shoots me a vicious grin. "I'd tell you we could stay in bed all day, but Say will be up any moment."
I push his chest lightly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I told Miss Jessica that I'll be stopping by the home again today. I want to check in with Ivy and see how she's doing."
Covering himself with the linen sheets, he leans back against the headboard. "I'll take Salem to the playground or something for a couple of hours, then."
It's strange, the change in our dynamic. How easily we move around each other now. It was happening even before we slept together, but sex has a way of intensifying things. And now, in the few days it's been since he touched me for the first time, Leo, Salem, and I have interacted almost like a family would.
It feels both natural and terrifying.
Because none of this is real. We're not a family. Leo isn't my partner, and Salem isn't my daughter, no matter how much I love her like she could be. I'm her nanny. Simple as that. And Leo is my brother's best friend, a soccer player at the top of his game with thousands of women wishing that they could be lying naked in his bed just like I am now.
There is no future for us, no world in which I could magically become Salem's mother and Leo's partner and become part of their family for real.
It's a fantasy, one born probably from the buried trauma of losing my parents so young.
Thinking otherwise would be foolish, and yet I can't stop myself from saying, "Well, I actually asked Miss Jessica if she wouldn't mind me bringing you and Salem along with me—you know, if you wanted to. You’ve had all your background checks done now, so it should be fine."
Leo blinks at me in surprise. "You're serious?"
A wave of shyness washes over me, making me suddenly self-conscious that I've overstepped. "Only if you want to," I reiterate.
But then he smiles so bright and wide and genuine that whatever I was feeling before melts away. "I'd love to."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It'd be really cool to learn more about where you and Alex grew up."
"Okay." I nod, fighting to hide my giddiness that he's willing to come. "We leave in an hour."
"We're so excited to have you here today, Mr. Sullivan," Miss Jessica greets Leo, beaming from ear to ear. "We have some little soccer fans living with us."
Leo returns her smile with a kind one of his own, shaking her hand with his free hand, using his other to keep Salem propped on his hip. "Thank you for having us, Miss Jessica. Brynn has told me so much about you."
"All good things, I hope?" She shoots me a teasing look.
"The best," I answer, wrapping her in my arms for a long hug. "Where's my Ivy?"
"In the main room with the others." She nudges me in that direction. "Go ahead. She's been staring at the door, waiting for you, since breakfast."
Just as Miss Jessica said she would be, Ivy is sitting cross-legged on the carpet, staring unblinking at the doorway when I walk through it. Instantly, her little face is overcome by a toothy smile, her knees bouncing as she waits for me to reach her.
The room erupts into a chorus of excited voices, children bounding around me as they each wait their turn for a hug. The chaos only intensifies when Leo steps up behind me, the children releasing a collective gasp that there is an "actual soccer player" standing in their living room. They swarm him, asking a dozen questions at a hundred miles an hour, thrusting crayons and craft paper in his face for autographs.
Through it all, Ivy stays seated, her nervous gaze flitting to the wildlife mural on the wall behind me while she waits.
She doesn't like crowded spaces. For as long as I've known her, she's preferred to spend her time upstairs in her bedroom, hidden away from the loud sounds that come from having ten children packed into the same room. Yet, she braved it today. For me.
"Hey, sweet girl," I say gently, dropping down onto the carpet beside her. "You got any news for me?"
"I learned how to tie my shoelaces dis week," she announces proudly, toying with the cotton hem of her red-printed dress. "Miss Jessica showed me."
"Well, that's awesome."
She nods emphatically, reaching across to twist some of my hair around her fingers. "You look pwetty today."
I boop her on the nose. "You look pretty every day."
Her eyes dart away from me as she smiles softly, shyly. "Who's that?" she asks, peering over my shoulder at Leo, who's doing a stellar job of writing autographs with one hand while holding Salem in the other.
He catches us looking, offers an awkward wave, and somehow manages to extricate himself from the mob surrounding him, placating them with promises to bring back some signed soccer shirts and a few major league balls to kick around in the yard.
"My friend. And that's his daughter, Salem."
"Are you friends that kiss?"
My mouth falls open. "What?"
"Like in the movies." She tuts like I'm an idiot. "I'm six, but I'm not stupid."
"Jesus Christ."
Approaching us, Leo shoots us a lopsided smile—the sort of smile that makes my stomach flip—before flopping down onto the floor in front of us. "Hey, pretty ladies."
Ivy rolls her eyes, not the least bit impressed by his charm. "Who are you, and why do you kiss my Brynn?"
He snorts, fixing me with a look that says, how the fuck do I answer that? I simply shrug and let him figure it out for himself. Seeing him flounder is the highest form of entertainment.
"Well…" He clears his throat. "I'm Leo. And I kiss Brynn because, um...because I like her?" It's phrased as a question, his discomfort clear as the silver flecks in Ivy's eyes.
I can't blame him, though. Ivy can be pretty intimidating when she wants to be.
She pulls a face in response. "If you like me, please don't kiss me."
Leo chokes, and I slap his back to help him through it. Ivy, though, is unperturbed.
"I like your baby," she says, touching Salem's arm with a gentle prod of her index finger. "Can I hold it?"
"She is a girl," I remind her gently as Leo gets Salem settled in her lap, "not an it."
But she isn't listening. She's too enamored by the babbling one-year-old in her lap, who's currently looking back at her like she's just found a kindred spirit.
"My name is Ivy. Can you say that? I-vee."
Salem watches the movement of her lips, studying her face with sparkling, inquisitive eyes. "V-vee."
"That's right. Good job."
"Well, look at that," I whisper to Leo.
He doesn't respond—not with words, anyway. But his shock and awe that his daughter is so content being held by Ivy is written all over his face.
And I get it.
Whatever he's feeling at the sight of them together is raging war inside me too. These two little humans—so different in circumstance yet so similar in innocence—playing together in the home where I grew up... It's almost too much for me to handle, because I'm filled with the sort of pride I imagine mothers feel when witnessing the connection between their children.
Except, I have no right to feel that way. Neither child belongs to me, no matter how much I wish things could be different, and neither ever will.
I can't adopt Ivy, because I don't have a home of my own. Yet, if I were to finally invest in my own place and curate a life where I'd be able to raise a child, I'd have to leave Salem behind. Loving them from a distance is all I'll ever have.
"She's lucky to have a daddy," Ivy whispers, as if to herself, then looks solemnly toward Leo. "Make sure you don't die."
Leo blinks.
Ivy continues, "Your baby won’t like it if you die."
Leo nods in understanding. He doesn't know what brought her to the Poppy Fields Children's Home, but I guess he's figured it out. "I'll do my best to stay alive."
"Good." Ivy gives him a solemn nod. "My mommy and daddy died, and I didn't like it."
Oh, my sweet little Ivy.
She says it so simply, so casually, with a slight lift of her shoulders, as if the death of her parents didn't rock her entire world to its core. She's good at that, at pretending that everything is okay on the outside when, beneath it all, she's really a terrified, lonely six-year-old girl drowning in grief so strong that she doesn't know how to process it.
It's the reason she acts out sometimes.
People write her off as a bad kid, but it's only because they lack the patience and empathy needed to give her what she needs.
Comfort. Understanding. A safe space to feel her emotions.
"Where's your baby's mom?" she asks bluntly, absentmindedly running her fingers through the fine hairs on Salem's head.
"Salem doesn't have a mom," Leo replies.
Ivy's eyes widen, sadness filling them as she looks down at the baby on her lap. "Oh no," she gasps. "Did she die too? Like my mommy?"
I wrap my arm around her and kiss the top of her head. "No, sweet girl. She didn't die. Salem only has a daddy."
"Miss Brynn could be her mommy," she tells Leo, her tone serious, her expression one of earnest. "She could adopt her, like she'll adopt me one day."
My heart twists.
Pain shoots through me at the knowledge that I will likely never get the chance to make both our dreams come true. I've never told Ivy I'd adopt her. I wouldn't fill her with false hope only to let her down, but she asks me every single time I'm here.
"Remember what I told you?” I ask her gently. "You don't have to call me Miss Brynn."
"When you adopt me, I can call you mommy."
Her utter seriousness breaks my heart, the hopefulness in her silver eyes shattering me like a sword through the soul.
Leo clears his throat. "I need to chat with Miss Jessica about something before we go. Are you okay with Salem?"
"Of course." I nod my head, redirecting my attention back to Ivy and distracting her with some plastic cups that she uses to build a tower for Salem to knock over.
But all too soon, I’m saying goodbye.
"See you soon, my sweet girl," I whisper as I hug Ivy close to my chest and promise to be back later in the week.
And it is all I can do to stop tears from welling in my eyes, because every step I take away from her echoes with the sadness that comes from knowing I'll never be a mother to either of the two little girls who I love with all my heart.