39. Atlas
39
ATLAS
I carry my bride home in my arms and take her directly to our room. I tell her ten more times that Ivy is safe with my brother’s girlfriend, happily making pancakes. She still won’t lie down until I threaten her with an actual hospital if she won’t at least let me take a look at her.
My hands are shaking while I check her over. They calm when I finally see the worst of it is scrapes and bruises. On the outside, at least.
Then I can only hold her.
She insists on seeing Ivy before she goes to sleep, and I take her to Ivy’s new room, which used to be my mother’s.
Ivy is watching a movie with Remi, but she jumps off the bed and runs to Elena the moment she sees her, throwing her arms around her waist and hugging her for a long time.
When she finally lets go, it’s only to push her notebook into Elena’s hands. Elena looks at the page, at the word written there in uneven, scraggly letters. Sorry.
I recognize the writing. I can see Elena does, too. Her eyes fill with tears. She touches Ivy’s shoulder, looking into her face. “Oh, honey. You were telling me to get out? To get away from your dad?”
Ivy nods her head miserably.
Elena wraps her arms around her. “Don’t worry, solnyshko moi . I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore.”
I thought it must have been Ivy who trashed the room when I saw that Elena’s camera wasn’t damaged. And of course, I’m the one who showed Ivy the dumbwaiter. I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass—or in this case, cost me two rolls of wallpaper and three new locks.
How the hell I’m going to keep her out of the dumbwaiters in the future is the bigger problem…they go all throughout the hotel. And Ivy is going to have a lot more freedom in the future, for better and for worse.
Problems for another day.
I care about one thing and one thing only tonight.
“Put her to bed,” I say to Elena. “I need you.”