9. Ivy #2
Blair gives me a warm hug, her perfume soft and floral, a subtle reminder that she’s the calm to Drew’s storm. “Everything smells incredible.”
“Hope you’re all hungry,” I say, even though I know they are. They always are when I cook.
We sit down to eat, the conversation light at first. Drew dives into the chicken like he hasn’t eaten in a week, and Cassie starts recounting some client disaster she handled like a pro.
It’s almost normal. But my heart is a jackhammer, and when I finally put down my fork and clear my throat, the room goes still in the way only family dinner tables do—like it knows a storm is about to hit.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say.
Cassie straightens. Blair nods encouragingly. Drew puts his fork down slowly.
I take a breath. “I’m pregnant.”
For a second, no one moves. Then Drew’s face drains of color.
“Come again?” he says, like maybe he heard me wrong and this can all still be undone.
“I’m eight weeks along,” I say gently. “I found out recently. I’m okay.”
“Okay?” he repeats, voice rising. “You’re pregnant, Ivy! Who—how—what the hell?”
Cassie lays a hand on his arm. “Easy.”
“No, I want to know who the hell got my sister pregnant and why he’s not sitting here with us!”
“I’m not ready to talk about that part yet,” I say, keeping my voice even. “The father isn’t in the picture. It’s complicated, and I’ll tell you when I can, but right now, I just need you to trust me.”
Drew glares at me, then at the table, then at Cassie who gives him a look that says behave.
“Ivy’s not a kid,” Cassie says. “She didn’t do this lightly.”
Blair speaks for the first time, her voice soft but firm. “You’ve always said Ivy could handle herself, Drew. Let her do that now.”
Drew exhales roughly and scrubs a hand over his face. “Do you have a plan? Appointments? Support?”
“I’m figuring it out,” I tell him. “But yes. I’m taking care of myself. And if I need help, I’ll let you know.”
There’s a beat of silence before Drew nods, grudgingly. “You'd better.”
His words are gruff, but his eyes are damp, and when he stands up, I let him wrap me in a hug that nearly cracks my ribs. That’s the thing about Drew. He shouts because he cares.
The rest of dinner feels a little lighter after that.
The food helps, and the wine eases Drew.
My can of pop isn’t too bad, either, although I drink pop sparingly.
Eventually, Cassie teases Drew enough to make him laugh, and Blair tells me she’s already planning to make a baby quilt.
When they leave, I pack them some leftovers and promise to call if anything changes.
Drew gives me a look that says I’d better, then kisses my forehead and leaves with Blair, his arm around her.
I don’t cry until the door shuts behind them.
Later, I warm up some soup and sit by the window, eating slowly, watching headlights pass like ghost stories across the street.
My body feels different. Heavier, but not just with exhaustion.
There’s a life inside me now. A rhythm I didn’t expect to feel so deeply, so quickly.
I rest my hand over my stomach, and for the first time since the hospital, I think I'm content.
Just as I’m about to crawl into bed, my phone buzzes against the countertop. Unknown number.
I hesitate, then answer.
“Ivy.”
That voice.
Every hair on my body stands up.
“Daniel,” I whisper.
His tone dips into faux-concern. “Are you alright? You haven’t been answering my messages.”
“You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“You blocked my number.” He says it like it’s an offense. “Do you know how long it took me to get this one?”
“Then I’ll block this too.”
“Ivy, please,” he says. “Can we just talk? I’ve been trying to give you space, but I need to see you. There’s too much between us to just… disappear like this.”
“There’s nothing between us,” I say quietly.
“That’s not true,” he replies, soft and persistent. “We were good together. Everyone saw it. We worked. You know we did.”
“No. You worked. You worked very hard to control every aspect of my life.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
He sighs, the sound rehearsed. “You were under a lot of pressure. We both were. That kind of stress—it warps things. I wasn’t perfect, Ivy, but neither were you.”
“You took everything from me.”
“I was trying to help.”
“No,” I snap, voice shaking now. “You were trying to own me.”
“I was protecting you.” The warmth is gone from his voice, just like that. “You were reckless, and you know it. You still are, judging by the whispers going around.”
My stomach drops.
“I don’t know what you think you’ve heard?—”
“You’re pregnant, Ivy.”
The silence is thunderous. And for a moment, I hear the real Daniel beneath the polish—the rage, the disbelief that I would dare move on, dare defy him, dare belong to someone else.
“Whose is it?” He speaks so nonchalantly, as if he isn’t my stalking, manipulating ex but a close friend instead.
“You don’t get to know that.”
“Is it someone powerful?” A sliver of suspicion edges into his voice. “Someone who can protect you from me?”
I say nothing.
His laugh is cold. “Because that’s the only reason you’d keep him a secret. Otherwise, you’d be begging me to take you back.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “You never loved me.”
“I still do,” he says. “You just don’t understand what love is.”
“No,” I say, voice rising. “You don’t.”
A pause, then his tone changes again, morphing back into something calm and patient, the same one he used to use on my mother or on the press.
“You need someone like me, Ivy. Someone who knows how this city works. You think Valleria will open its arms for a single mother with a questionable history? Think again. I was your future.”
“I’m building a different one.”
“With whom?” he asks again, and this time, there’s steel under the words. “Is he going to protect you when I decide you’re a problem?”
I close my eyes. “You’re not God, Daniel.”
“No,” he agrees softly. “But I’m still the one they call when they need permission.”
And just then, there's the sound of a car pulling up on the curb outside. I inch up to the window and look outside. It's a black sedan.
The timing is too precise to be anything but intentional.
I move on instinct, barefoot and silent, crossing the room like the walls might betray me.
When I reach the door, I fumble with the lock, breath caught somewhere between my ribs.
A quiet curse slips from my mouth as I twist the bolt once, then again.
Although I head to the bedroom, I already know I'm not getting a wink of sleep tonight.