Chapter 24
CAM
Ivy stands frozen in front of me, just inside the doorjamb, staring into what was a guest room that held nothing more than a twin bed and a dresser.
What she and Drew had once hoped would eventually become a nursery for their theoretical baby.
The one they tried so hard for and thought wasn’t going to happen…
It became an empty tomb, a place Ivy never went, the same way she wouldn’t have entered Drew’s office if I hadn’t wanted to go through those boxes.
But it isn’t that anymore.
At least, I hope she won’t see it that way.
Her eyes move across the space, taking in every detail, but they keep returning to the far wall—to the thing I knew I had to do the more I thought about what Dale said to me.
It just took me a while to figure out that it’s what I needed to do—for Ivy.
And for myself.
A step toward looking forward instead of back by concentrating on the moment we let Drew go, that we stopped clinging to him and set him free in the place he loved so much.
Her body starts trembling, and my stomach twists.
Shit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.
Maybe I got it all wrong.
I lean to the side slightly so I can see her face and try to gauge just how badly I fucked this up.
Tears well in her eyes, and she reaches a hand from where it rests on her belly up to swipe them away as she absorbs all the work I’ve done over the last several days.
The longer she remains silent, the more confident I become that I made a huge mistake in doing this.
I’ve overstepped.
Massively.
I’ve inserted myself into her life in a place and way she never wanted me.
And why would she?
This isn’t my place.
It never will be.
My gaze drifts to her stomach, to the place I felt my niece kick for the first time. My hand tingles with the memory, wanting so badly to feel it again. “Ivy, I’m sorry. I can change it. I can paint over it tomorrow, and you won’t ever have to see it again. I just thought—”
Her head finally turns, and her gaze meets mine.
But there isn’t any anger or animosity in her eyes.
Always pain, but not that.
She gives me a half-smile that shatters me completely because it might be the first real hint of joy I’ve seen from her since the night everything fell apart. “It’s perfect.”
Those two simple words immediately soothe some of the uncertainty and turmoil swirling inside me, but her tears haven’t convinced me that I didn’t mess up big time by doing this, especially without telling her first.
And she may not see what I chose for the theme of the nursery the way I do…
Ivy takes a hesitant step inside, and I follow her, giving her space, unsure if she even wants me in here with her—now or ever.
The mural I painstakingly painted takes up the entire far wall.
Strathmere Beach at night with the moon reflecting off the water, exactly how it looked the night we spread Drew’s ashes…
Her gaze stays locked on it for several minutes, taking in every nuance—the dark blues, black, white, and grays necessary to truly capture the image.
“How’d you do it?” Her eyes flick over to me. “It looks exactly like that night.”
Unease tingles my spine, and for some reason, I don’t want to tell her even though there isn’t any reason not to.
I clear my throat. “Uh, Roxy helped me with the color palette.”
Because there’s no way I could have done this version of it on my own.
It would have been a colorless representation of what I saw, but not what she did. And not how their baby should see that beach or that night.
She flinches slightly, as if the mere mention of another woman is enough to hurt her, but then she smiles. “It’s beautiful.”
I step in farther and stand near the crib that sits between the new matching dresser and changing table, while the rocking chair occupies the corner closest to the mural, tucked in under the moon we stood beneath that night.
And seeing her stand there now, in front of it, it’s almost like being back on that beach, with our feet sinking into that sand and our anguish threatening to drown us as we said our final goodbyes to him.
God, I hope I got it right…
All of it.
“You have to tell me if you don’t like anything.
I just thought…” I swallow thickly, my eyes drifting to the large heart-shaped vase that I painted Drew’s name on sitting on top of the dresser filled with sand from Strathmere.
My gaze ghosts over the paintings I did to decorate the walls featuring friendly, cartoonish sea creatures.
“I just thought your daughter should have him with her all the time, and this is the closest I could get to giving that to her…and you.”
A sob slips from Ivy’s lips, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
Her eyes move across the room now, taking in all the minute details, and she slowly walks over and slides her hand across the glass vase holding the sand, her palm settling on Drew’s name.
I don’t have to tell her where it came from.
She knows.
Just like I knew I needed to do this for her. For him. And for their daughter.
Because Ivy hasn’t done anything to get ready for the baby.
She hasn’t been able to bring herself to even begin to look for anything for this room, let alone spend the time putting together furniture and decorating.
And I can’t say I blame her for that.
These are the things she should be doing with Drew.
It should be a joyful time filled with looking forward to all the new firsts and the future ahead of them, but she doesn’t have that. At least, not in the same way she would have if Drew were still here.
She’s facing it with the cloud of what she lost darkening her joy, impeding her ability to tackle all the projects that need to happen before she gives birth.
So even if she hates it, I had to try.
To do something.
Like I need to now as this heavy silence fills the space between us.
I motion toward the air purifier in the corner. “That should take care of the remaining paint smell in the next day or two, but I made sure to use a kind that is safe to be around.”
She nods, her hand still plastered over her mouth, then she makes her way to the crib, trailing her fingers along the wooden rail and staring down at the bedding Mom helped me pick out.
“My mom said the sea theme would be perfect.”
Ivy’s gaze lifts to mine, and she drops her hand, her lips parted slightly. “Your mom knew you were doing this?”
I nod.
Her dark eyebrows fly up. “Did Marlo?”
Despite my best efforts, I can’t fight the twitch of my lips. “It was a concerted effort to get you out of town for a few days.”
Those tear-soaked eyes widen even more. “That little liar.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t be mad at her.
When I told her what I wanted to do and how much time I would need, she assured me she would figure out a way to get you out of here long enough for me to complete it.
And to make sure you had a good time.” Though, that part Marlo seemed less confident about, considering the almost zombie-like state Ivy has seemed to exist in for the last couple of months. “How was New York?”
She rests her hands on the crib rail and stares at the mobile dangling above it with smiling crabs, lobsters, fish, sharks, and seahorses turning over where the baby will sleep. “It was good. I think getting away from here for a while was actually exactly what I needed.”
What she needed?
The way she said those words is enough to make me suddenly dread the answer to my next question. “For what?”
Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine. “To get some perspective.”
My chest tightens at the intensity of her gaze, and I lean back against the wall, fighting the urge to go to her and pull her into my arms. To plead my case when she finally admits we shouldn’t be doing what we have been.
When she ends the only reason I get to see her, get to touch her, get to spend any time with her, even if it hurts.
I watch her, waiting for her to expand, but she doesn’t say anything else, just wanders over to the rocking chair and sits in it, resting her hands on her belly.
She pushes off with her feet and glides back and forth, a small smile spreading on her lips.
“Do you like it?”
I keep asking her that, like some broken record that should have been thrown out a long time ago, but each and every thing in here was selected for a reason, and if I got it wrong, I need to fix it.
Because there are so many other things I can’t fix.
Things that will haunt me every day for the rest of my life.
The ones in this room are easy.
Those? Not so much.
“I love it. Really.” She swallows hard, like she’s struggling to keep her emotions in check as much as I am. “Please thank Roxy for me.”
I nod slowly, watching the way she cradles her belly so protectively. “I will.”
“Are you two…?”
The way she doesn’t finish the question has me lifting my head and searching her face.
Is that a hint of jealousy, or is believing that just wishful thinking?
It’s impossible to know where I stand with Ivy after everything that’s happened.
We’ve spent months dancing around each other.
Pretending that falling into bed together whenever she asks me to come over, only to have me walk away with my heart in my throat, is somehow okay.
Avoiding the reality of what we’re doing to ourselves and each other each time I touch her.
Denying the fact that she still hates and blames me, even as she seeks me out to find comfort with increasing frequency.
Ignoring the fact that as much as she despises me and tells me as much as I give her physical pleasure, I still love her—more now than ever.
I offer a weighted sigh. “I sat down with her a while back and explained some stuff to her that she needed to know about my addiction and recovery. To understand what happened between us and why.”
Ivy’s gaze softens, the hand stroking her belly stilling. “And?”
“And she accepted my apology, even if she shouldn’t have, even if I have a lot more amends to make.” I shrug. “But we’re good now. Friends.”