Chapter Twenty-One #2
Ivy’s gaze moves about the apartment I am currently sharing with my sister, drifting back to the entryway, tiny pink shoes and my comparatively massive boots tucked sideways against the baseboards.
She peeks into the kitchen and spots the three chairs at the dining table, still slightly pushed out from dinner.
When I open the drawer of the coffee table and pull out a package of dog treats, Resin’s tail immediately wags.
It’s possible I bought the treats as soon as I found out that Ivy has a dog . . .
“May he have one?” I ask.
Resin looks to Ivy for permission. She laughs and gives a nod. “Wait, why do you have those?”
“What do you mean?” The dog is already chewing contentedly, flopping on the floor. I smile.
“You don’t have a dog.”
I look at Ivy. “No, but you do.”
Her eyes melt into the deepest version of hot chocolate I’ve seen yet. “Jace,” she says after seconds or minutes. I’ve lost track of time from being this close to her again. “What does the forest mean?”
It takes me a moment to register that she’s talking about my tattoos. I breathe out, knowing she’s caught the details of each one. “The trees near home.”
“And the book?”
“It’s a tribute to my love of reading.”
“The North Star compass?”
“For Emmy.” My chest tightens with each admission.
“The paintbrush?"
“For Mina.” I swallow, knowing what she’s saved for last.
“And the ribbon?”
My eyes meet hers. The design in question is a replica of the piece of ribbon she gave me once. “I think you know,” I manage.
Her eyes fill with emotion, and a tear slips down her cheek. Ivy wipes it away. “Jace, what happened tonight when you saw my brother? Why did you walk away?”
I hear Emmy and Angie laughing in the other room and know I can keep sharing without little ears hearing.
Now that Freddie is back, it’s time. “I came to find you,” I admit.
“After that night, when I couldn’t make it to our second date.
” I round my back in defeat, the gesture more painful than helpful.
“What?” Ivy barely gets out a breath. “What do you mean?”
I shift on the sofa so that I’m completely facing her on a diagonal. “After Mina died. I tried to come back. I asked around town for you.”
Ivy covers her mouth with her hand, and Resin perks up, rubbing his face on her knee, clearly sensing her shift in mood.
“It’s okay, buddy,” she says, petting him.
He settles back against her feet. It’s a comfort to know that although I haven’t been here, she’s had him looking out for her.
Suddenly, I’m not so jealous of him. I’m grateful.
“So, you asked about me,” Ivy continues. “What happened then?”
“Everyone here was very protective. People knew your name, of course, but you were back in New York.” I rub the back of my neck to try to ease the tension. “I was about to give up when I ran into your brother at Four Leaf Cookies.”
“When was this?”
“Four months after we met.”
“What did he say?” Ivy’s face has turned pale, her eyes widening. I think she already knows how this ends.
“He said I broke your heart. I tried to tell him about Mina and what happened to her, but he wouldn’t let me explain. He said to stay away. And normally, I wouldn’t have listened. But he made some pretty compelling arguments, and I listened.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“Such as?”
“Ivy, we don’t have to do this now.”
“Such . . . as?” she asks me again, and I cave more quickly than I should.
“Such as the fact that your whole life is—or was—in New York. He said that if I didn’t have the decency to show up for our date, then I wasn’t worthy to have you as my girl, no matter the reason.
He didn’t know that I had a life-changing reason for not showing up, but I didn’t correct him.
He said that you’d been treated like an afterthought by men before and that now you were finally living out your dreams.” I struggle to grit out the next words.
“And he said that if I cared about you at all, then . . . I would leave you alone.”
The reverberation of Ivy’s gasp sends a shock through me. “No.”
“Ivy—”
“He had no right!” She’s standing now, rushing to the door, the rigidness of her turned-out feet alerting me to make a move.
“Ivy, wait.” Cold wind hits my chest from the partially opened door. The hair dryer blows loudly in the next room, a contrast of temperatures from where we stand.
Slowly, I lean forward and shut the door, my arm hovering above her head. She turns to face me, her back pressing against the door. Resin looks between us and settles, his excitement fading. He flops on top of our feet, and I give Ivy a tentative smile, hoping it encourages her not to run away.
Her arms are crossed, and she lets out an adorable—I mean, fierce—huff. “So, he said all that to you. And you just listened to him?”
I reach out and gently wrap her face in my hands, my hands cradling her delicate jaw. “Is this okay?” She nods, and I sigh in relief, even though my lungs feel heavy. Tears brim along the edges of her hot-chocolate eyes, and my heart picks up speed. “Ivy, please listen to me.”
She looks up at me, and a tear slips out.
I stroke her soft skin with my thumb. “You were in New York. You were living your dream. And maybe I shouldn’t have listened to him.
But I had known you for only one night at that point.
A magical night, to be sure, but not nearly as long as I would’ve liked to disrupt your life like that.
He’s known about your dreams for your whole life.
You must know that I would never want to hold you back. ”
“But don’t you remember what I said? I told you that I wanted someone to really know me.
We could’ve known each other, Jace.” Deeply, I inhale as she forces her head down, pushing my hands away, a hint of a sob emerging from her heaving chest. “I’ll talk to him,” Ivy says quietly.
“I’m just so . . . Why did we . . . It’s so unfair. ”
“It is. All of it.”
“Your sister. My brother. Never seeing each other again. Emmy’s mother and whatever lies she told you.” Her insight causes my eyes to widen as she continues. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Jace.” Ivy places her hands on my chest, and I go completely still. “You didn’t.”
A part of me has always wondered if there’s been some sort of cause and effect on my life.
Yes, I made some decisions after Mina passed away that I wish I could take back.
But I was grieving. And while that’s never been an excuse, mourning has a way of altering our reality in ways we don’t understand while we’re moving through those dark days.
And even though I wish it hadn’t happened, I understand her brother’s motives. I respect him for protecting her.
“Your brother meant well,” I reply. “Our timing was just off, Starlight.”
Her eyes soften slightly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For still using the name you’ve given only me.” She smiles, her eyes red but warmth returning to her face.
“Welcome.” My hands lift, and I pass my thumb over the curve of one of her cheekbones as Emmy walks into the living room, rubbing her eyes, with Angie right behind her.
“Oh, hello, Ivy,” Angie says with a knowing smile after the initial surprise.
She looks at me, making all sorts of gestures I will have future questions about, as Ivy leans down to encourage Emmy’s interaction with Resin.
I motion for my sister to quit it when Ivy looks at me, and I freeze, my hands still midair.
“Okay, then.” Ivy looks between us. “I have a sibling, so I know code when I see it. I’ll just get going. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Nope!” Angie yells. “You misread. I was trying to communicate to my gigantic, romance-loving brother here that he shouldn’t let you get out the door.”
Ivy laughs.
“I can’t even repeat what you just called me,” I protest. “Why? Just why?”
Angie laughs too, but I catch Emmy’s tired swipe of her eyes once more.
She reaches for me, and I hold her close, wishing that the days when she lets me hold her like this would never end.
My daughter relaxes completely against me, her head facing Ivy, her hair in a braid brushing against my neck.
Already, her breathing is steady, her small rib cage pressing against my heart with every breath, and something about having all of us here together makes me try to clear my throat from emotion.
I don’t let my gaze linger on the fact that the woman I care about is here to observe such a quiet moment.
There’s no glamour in the four of us standing in the entryway—just the facts.
These are the everyday elements that I try to keep moving through, and she’s now a witness to them.
“I’ll just put her to bed, and I’ll be right back,” I say as softly as I can, my hand cradling Emmy’s shoulders. Ivy clocks the gesture and grins, nodding, as Angie gives a nod and a wave to us both before heading back to her room.
“I’ll be here,” Ivy whispers.
“G’night, Miss Ivy,” Emmy’s tired voice breaks through, and Ivy lightly touches her back, rubbing it in a clockwise motion.
Her gaze lands on my left hand, the one with the tattoo of the clock, and I feel the way she’s tracing the foliage wrapped around it with her eyes.
She searches my face, and I give myself one more moment to cherish having Ivy here in my space, wishing this family scene could go on forever.
Then I gather the resolve to walk down the hall to our room.
Emmy is too tired for one of the books we’ve been reading, so I tell her my favorite story: How I felt the night that she was born.
She falls asleep easily with her mouth slightly open and her long lashes brushing her cheeks.
I tuck her in and make sure there’s an extra blanket draped near her feet.
For a moment, I stand in the doorway of our temporary shared bedroom and shake out my shoulders before I walk down the hall.
To my relief, Ivy is still waiting in the next room.
My brain can’t comprehend how we got here, but even after the grace she showed me tonight, I know that if anyone has ever earned the right to know me at my core, it’s Ivy.
I just hope she’s patient enough for us to move through the part of my story that I still haven’t wanted to share or relive. Until now.