Chapter 33 Elena
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
elena
Ibring cupcakes.
It feels stupid now—standing on Ivy Logan’s porch with a box of white bakery cupcakes I bought in town and a knot of dread in my stomach—but I hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed. Not when I’m about to drop a bomb on the woman who fought to get me this part.
She opens the door with a soft smile and eyes that are a little puffier than usual.
“Hey,” she says. “You’re up and out. That’s a good sign.”
“Starting to feel more human again,” I offer. “And I wanted to talk. About getting back on schedule.”
She waves me in, barefoot in leggings and an enormous flannel that looks like it belongs to her giant husband. “We’re not actually shooting until Monday. You’ve got a few days.”
“That’s good.” I follow her into the kitchen. It smells like lavender-scented soap and fresh laundry. It’s overwhelming. I consider asking her if we can sit outside since I’m about to tell her why every scent on the planet is too much for me lately.
We sit, and I try to find the words. Try to figure out how to ease into a conversation about pregnancy and postponing work, about visiting my chronically ill father with news that could literally disappoint him to death.
But Ivy presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, letting out a low groan.
“I’m sorry,” she says before I can speak. “I’m not usually like this.”
I set the cupcakes down. “Like what? What’s wrong?”
“Emotional. Moody. Overly aware of every damn thing my body is doing.” She sighs, voice cracking slightly. “I just started my period. Again. And Wyatt’s chopping wood like he’s in the lumberjack Olympics pretending not to be disappointed, but…”
Her chin trembles and she shakes her head, like she’s trying to will the tears away.
My stomach tightens.
“Ivy—”
“We’ve been trying to conceive,” she says quietly.
“For months. Nothing’s wrong, exactly. But nothing’s happening either.
And I know I shouldn’t complain. I already have a life most women would kill for.
But this? This is the one thing I want more than anything.
And I’m starting to wonder if it’s just not in the cards for me. ”
The confession is so honest, so heartbreakingly raw, it guts me.
And I can’t tell her.
Not now.
Not when Isaac and I did something completely on accident that she’s trying very hard to make happen on purpose.
I hand her a Kleenex from a nearby box. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s the stress of the show. Sometimes that can be an issue,” I offer, not having a damn clue what I’m talking about.
She blows her nose loudly.
I wave it off when she apologizes.
This is why I don’t spend time with many people. I’m not good at it.
Comfort is not my specialty. Sarcastic comments I can manage. And if you need to egg your asshole ex’s house, I have an excellent throwing arm. But this, the emotions, the tears, I’m bad at it.
So I pivot.
“I don’t want to cause you any additional stress. I just wanted to ask if I could go home for the weekend,” I say softly. “My dad’s birthday was last weekend, and I missed it.”
Along with my last two periods.
Ivy blinks, nods. “Oh gosh, Elena. Of course. You mentioned at your audition that he’s chronically ill.”
“Yeah, his kidneys are failing,” I say. “He opted to go off dialysis and just live out what time he has. He’s hanging in there, but he’s tired all the time. And he can’t travel.” He can barely manage his daily walk to the mailbox.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “God, I’m so sorry. Here I am wallowing in my own misery, crying all over you when you’ve got enough to deal with.”
She doesn’t know half of it. But she’s so kind, if I was a hugger, I’d hug her.
“Go see him. Take extra days if you need next week. I’ll talk to the producers. We’ll make it work.”
“Thank you. The weekend will be fine,” I assure her, knowing I’ll probably be completely disowned within an hour of walking through the door.
Before I can say anything more, the back door creaks open and Wyatt walks in.
He crosses the kitchen, wraps his arms around his wife, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey angel, you want to go get coffee at our place? Some pastries? All the pastries?”
My frozen heart melts a little. They have a place. He buys her all the pastries.
I watch them for a second too long.
Ivy gestures toward the cupcakes. “Elena brought me cupcakes. And she didn’t even know I was in here moping.”
Wyatt nods to me in greeting. “I can run out and grab you both a coffee, one of those fancy latte-macchiato-Ariana-Grande-whatever it’s called.”
I laugh. I didn’t know this brother could be funny. I thought that was solely Isaac’s thing. But I see it, the way he’s trying so desperately to cheer up his disappointed wife. And I’m intruding on their time.
“I should go get packed, but thank you,” I tell them both, standing to leave.
Ivy gives me a kind smile and says she hopes I enjoy my visit home.
Doubtful, I think but don’t say.
Outside, the sun has dipped lower, casting everything in that dreamy golden hour haze.
And there he is.
My golden cowboy.
Leaning against the porch railing, cowboy hat low, arms crossed over his chest like he’s been waiting for me for a while now.
“Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”
“It didn’t. I couldn’t.”
His brows lift. “Couldn’t?”
I motion for him to follow me away from the house and toward the guest cabin where I’m staying. “They’ve been trying for a baby and haven’t had any luck.” My voice wobbles. “I couldn’t do that to her.”
He doesn’t say I should have.
He doesn’t say anything, just turns and looks back at his brother’s house.
Through the kitchen window, we see Ivy and Wyatt slow dancing in the soft light, her head on his chest, his hand stroking down her back.
Isaac tips his chin toward them. “Probably about to be baby-making time. We should get out of here.”
I manage a half-laugh, half-sniffle. “I told her I need to go see my dad.”
“Let me come with you.”
I blink. “To New Mexico? I promise I won’t chicken out this time. But thank you.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not worried you’ll chicken out. Elena, unless there’s something you want to tell me, I’m the father of our baby. I’d be honored to meet your dad, face to face, and own that like a man. Especially if his health’s not great. I want to be there—for you. And for me.”
Something catches in my throat. I nod, too overwhelmed to say yes out loud. Wyatt and Ivy’s mushy moment has rubbed off and turned me mushy.
“I’ll behave,” he tells me, brushing my pinky with his. “I’ll be as involved or uninvolved as you want when you tell them. But also, I can fly us there a lot quicker than you can drive or get a commercial flight.”
I suck in a breath, feeling more relieved than I expect when I let it go. “Okay.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shaggy donkey trotting by.
“Hey, cowboy, is that a–”
“That’s Jasper,” Isaac says on a sigh. “On his evening patrol, I guess. He’s probably the best security we have around here.”
The animal parks himself beside Ivy and Wyatt’s porch like he’s settling in for the night.
“Should we…return him to the barn or something?”
Isaac laughs. “That’d be a pointless waste of time. He’ll just let himself out of his pen and come right back.”
I arch a brow. I’ve been around donkeys before, never seen one act like this.
“Ivy has some issues about locks. They don’t have them on their doors. So…” He pauses and gestures at the donkey who is now snoring soundly. “He’s like a guard dog.”
“A guard donkey?”
Isaac shrugs. “Yeah. And he’s kind of territorial, so we should go.”
This is a strange ranch.
And yet, it’s growing on me.