41. Ivy
Chapter Forty-One
IVY
Bright light penetrates the cracks on either side of the blinds, but no amount of sunshine spilling across the floor could fully eradicate the darkness of last night’s conversation. It plays through my mind like a movie. In the light of day, it feels like it had to be a dream, but acid eating at the lining of my stomach assures me it wasn’t.
While I don’t think the man I love is capable of murder, I can’t rule it out. All I can do is trust that Caelon will respect my feelings on the horrendous situation, trust that he won’t give me up and trust that the prospect of a future together is enough of an incentive to keep his past from destroying him. From destroying us both.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and soak in my surroundings. Caelon’s room is nothing like I imagined. I’d expected it to be dark and masculine, but it’s decorated in cool shades of silver and sage.
He stirs as I untangle myself from his arms and takes his hands in mine.
‘Good morning, Tortured,’ I whisper, kissing his neck and inhaling his scent .
‘I’d be far less tortured if you didn’t have to sneak out,’ he grumbles, interlinking his fingers with mine and squeezing.
‘The kids have been through enough. They don’t need to see us together yet.’ Owen’s only just accepted me. I don’t want to undo all the good work by confusing him when this is still so new.
‘I know, I know,’ he sighs, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He’s so gorgeously docile. It’s hard to believe I’m looking at the same man who was threatening murder last night.
He arches up, resting his weight on one elbow, hand flat on top of the Egyptian cotton duvet. A beam of sunlight blazes a trail across his bare, muscular chest and the curve of his bicep, illuminating the masculine veins on his forearm and the platinum ring on his finger.
‘Are you okay?’ He cocks his head.
Translation – Are we okay?
‘Yes,’ I say, though the word doesn’t come out as convincingly as I intended. ‘I’ll see you for breakfast in a couple of hours.’ I back away from the bed and tiptoe out of the room. Roxy is snoring softly at the top of the staircase. Her ears prick as I approach. The soft thwack of her tail beats against the floorboards. Someone’s happy to see me.
‘Come on.’ I beckon her downstairs with me, towards the kitchen, and out the back door. The early morning sun does little to take the chill from my bones.
Grabbing a coffee, I settle at the table with my Kindle, hoping my latest bad boy MMC will take my mind off the fact I have one of my own.
But it’s no good. Last night’s conversation won’t stop playing on repeat in my head. After all, it’s not everyday your boyfriend confesses to plotting murder.
I’m halfway through my second caffeine fix when the kids jolt down the stairs. Owen races ahead of Orla, that damned tatty teddy under his arm .
‘Ivy!’ Excitement taints his tone, and my heart warms. He’s progressed so far in a couple of months. ‘What are we doing today?’ he demands, his ebony hair mussed from sleep, his bright eyes full of wonder. He’s the image of his father.
Will my child look like that one day?
‘There’s no way in Hell I’m giving you up.’
Never in my life have I planned so much as a year ahead, but now I’m looking five, ten, fifteen years into the future, to a life with Caelon and his two adorable children. The Caelon who kissed me on the lips on the pier. The Caelon who surprises me with his underlying tenderness. The Caelon who took me to his bed last night and held me in his arms until we drifted into our dreams.
Not Caelon the crazed, revenge-seeking vigilante.
‘It’s Sunday, doofus.’ Orla climbs onto my lap. ‘It’s Ivy’s day off.’
‘Ah, what?’ Owen grumbles, tugging my elbow.
‘What do you want to do?’ I put my Kindle down to give him my full attention, brushing my fingers through his hair and meeting his gaze.
‘Swimming, ice cream, maybe the funfair.’ Hope hangs on his every word.
‘We’ll need to ask Daddy about that.’ I reposition Orla on my lap so her bony little butt isn’t digging into my thigh. ‘But I don’t mind if he doesn’t.’
‘Don’t you have a family of your own you’re supposed to visit?’ Orla peeps up at me from under long, dark lashes. She’s going to break a lot of hearts when she’s older.
Owen scoffs. ‘Ivy’s part of our family now, doofus ,’ he says, throwing her insult back.
My blood heats as I realise how much I want it to be true. I want to be part of this family. To be Caelon’s wife. I want the ring he wears on his finger to be one I put there .
‘I hope you stay forever,’ Orla whispers, snuggling into my chest.
So do I.
Ten minutes later, Caelon strides into the room in a cloud of cologne and raw masculinity. He’s dressed in smart shorts and another chest-hugging polo shirt. My mouth waters at the sight of him.
‘Good morning.’ His deep velvety voice floats across the kitchen.
The kids abandon their cereal and run to him. My ovaries weep on either side of my achingly empty uterus. I need to get a grip.
‘Dad, can we go to the funfair today? Or the circus?’ Owen demands, tugging his father’s hand.
‘We need to put flowers on Mammy’s grave,’ Caelon says, ‘then we’re going to see Uncle James and Aunty Scarlett.’
‘We are?’ Orla exclaims. ‘Do you think Scarlett will let me hold the baby?’
Do you think she’ll let me hold the baby?
The thought bombards me, followed shortly by another crushing realisation. No one’s invited me. The kids don’t even know Caelon and I are together.
‘I don’t see why not.’ Caelon shrugs. ‘Coffee?’ His attention shifts to me, his eyes roaming appreciatively over my bare thighs before landing on my face. An involuntary shiver rips down my spine.
‘Earth to Ivy,’ Caelon teases. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’ It’s not as if I have anything else planned. I texted Dermot last night, hoping he’d come to his senses and finally realise I’m an adult woman who can see and sleep with whomever I choose, but I’ve heard nothing. It’s going to take him a while to get over this one.
I suppose I could visit my parents. It’s been a while. Though I’m not sure I’m ready for another, ‘What are you going to do with your life?’ speech, especially not when it’s become crystal clear what I want to do; marry my hot tortured boss and have stinkingly cute babies.
Caelon makes the coffee while the kids return to the table to shovel in spoonfuls of Cheerios like they haven’t eaten in years. Milk splatters in every direction with each flick of their spoons, much to Roxy’s delight. She licks the floor until it’s gleaming.
‘We’ll pick up some flowers and go to the graveyard, then circle back round for you just after one,’’ Caelon says, over his shoulder.
‘Sorry?’ I startle, dragged from my daydreams.
‘I want you to come to dinner at James and Scarlett’s,’ Caelon smirks. ‘Rian, Killian and Sean will be there.’
I push my chair back and slink over to him. ‘Isn’t it a family event?’
‘Yes.’ Caelon glances at the kids, who are still engrossed in their breakfast, before fleetingly brushing his lips against mine, stealing the breath from my lungs.
‘Are you taking me to rub it in Rian’s face?’ I quip. Little does Caelon know, Rian has it bad for someone else. I have no idea who, but he had no qualms admitting it on our date.
‘I’m taking you because you’re my girlfriend, and I hate being more than ten feet away from you. The only thing I’m rubbing is myself against you any chance I get,’ he growls into my ear.
‘About last night…’ I keep my voice low so the kids can’t hear.
‘Don’t.’ Unspoken words hang between us like an assassin’s axe. ‘I told you, Ivy, there’s no way I’m giving you up.’
It’s not exactly, ‘I’ve given up all thoughts of murder and revenge,’ but for now, it’ll do.
‘In that case, I’ll go get showered.’ I take the coffee he offers, and I’m about to stride away when something occurs to me.
‘Do you want me to come to the graveyard with you?’ I suck on my lower lip. This is unknown territory for both of us.
‘One day,’ he says solemnly, catching my hand, ‘but not today.’
I squeeze his hand back and drop it before the kids see. ‘I’ll go and check Owen’s bedsheets.’ He’s been mostly dry the past ten days, but there’s been the odd accident.
‘No need.’ Caelon’s lips part in a genuine smile. ‘They’re dry.’
‘Again?’
‘Yep,’ he brushes a hand over the ebony stubble dotting his jaw. ‘And did you notice we haven’t had a “remember the time Mammy…” story for a while? I’ll never let him forget her but it’s probably healthier that she’s not at the forefront of his mind all day, every day. Perhaps we’re all finally beginning to heal.’
I hope so, because if not, and if Caelon can’t move on properly with me, it’ll be me who is broken.