27. Ivy
IVY
D uncan carried two suitcases through the front door while I guided the triplets into his house.
The space felt enormous after the cramped quarters we'd been living in—vaulted ceilings, gleaming hardwood floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in streams of afternoon light.
Everything was pristine, organized, and quiet.
The quiet lasted approximately thirty seconds.
"Wow," Elena breathed, her voice echoing off the walls. "This is so big."
Chrissy immediately ran toward the living room, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. Sammy followed, both of them drawn to the massive sectional sofa that dominated the space.
"Careful," I called after them, but Duncan shook his head.
"Let them explore. Houses are meant to be lived in."
Elena tugged on his pant leg, and he looked down at her with an expression I couldn't quite read.
She lifted her arms, the universal signal for being picked up, and he hesitated for only a moment before scooping her into his arms. The movement was awkward at first, uncertain, but when she giggled and wrapped her small arms around his neck, his posture relaxed.
I watched them together, my chest tightening with emotions I couldn't name. Elena chattered about the big windows and the pretty lights, and Duncan listened with the same focused attention he gave to business presentations.
"She's got strong opinions," he said, glancing at me over her head.
"They all do. Fair warning."
He carried Elena through the house while I corralled the other two, showing us room after room.
The guest wing was at the back of the house, with its own entrance and a small sitting area.
Two bedrooms connected by a shared bathroom, both larger than the single room we'd been sharing at my parents' house.
"This one could be yours," Duncan said, opening the door to the master bedroom in the guest wing. "And we could set up the other one for the kids. There's enough space for three beds."
I nodded, overwhelmed by the generosity of it. "Duncan, I can't?—"
"You can." His voice was firm. "You're here now. Let's make it work."
The afternoon dissolved into the chaos of settling in.
I unpacked clothes while Duncan assembled the toddler beds we'd picked up on the way over.
The triplets "helped" by handing him screws and offering contradictory advice about which pieces went where.
Elena appointed herself supervisor, directing operations from her perch on the floor.
"No, Mr. Duncan, that one goes there," she said, pointing at a wooden slat he was trying to fit into the wrong slot.
"Mr. Duncan?" I looked up from folding tiny shirts.
Elena shrugged. "He's not Grandpa."
Duncan's hands stilled on the bed frame. "What would you like to call me?"
"Duncan is fine," I said quickly, but he was already looking at Elena with curiosity.
"Mr. Duncan works," she decided. "Can we have dinner soon? I'm hungry."
Dinner was takeout pizza spread across paper plates, steam curling up from greasy slices while the triplets arranged themselves around Duncan in a loose, chaotic ring on the hardwood floor.
The coffee table had been shoved to the side to make space, and the open boxes sat between them like the centerpiece of a strange little ceremony.
Duncan folded himself down, cross-legged in his crisp button-down, his slacks creasing as he adjusted to the unfamiliar posture.
He looked like a banker at a kindergarten sleepover, but he didn’t complain.
Instead, he fielded a barrage of questions about the house—why he had so many rooms, what he did with all the space, whether ghosts ever lived there when it was dark.
"For company," Duncan said, answering Sammy's question with a careful shrug.
"What kind of company?" Sammy pressed, licking sauce from his fingers.
Duncan tilted his head, thinking. "Friends. Family. People who bring the place to life."
"Like us?" Elena asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.
"Especially you," he said, meeting her eyes.
Chrissy paused mid-bite, stringy cheese dangling from her chin. "We're company," she declared, chewing triumphantly.
"You are," Duncan agreed, smiling. "The best kind."
Sammy leaned forward. "Do you have any pets?"
"Nope. Not yet."
"You should get a dog," Sammy said. "A big one. It can sleep in the kitchen."
"Or a cat," Chrissy countered. "But it can be orange. I only like orange."
"Cats are boring," Sammy muttered.
"Are not. They purr."
"Do you guys argue this much all the time?" Duncan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Elena replied matter-of-factly.
He laughed then, really laughed, and the kids looked pleased with themselves. "I’ll keep that in mind."
"And we’ll keep you company," Sammy added, nodding solemnly.
Duncan’s voice went softer. "I’d like that very much."
By eight o'clock, the triplets were rubbing their eyes and growing cranky.
I shepherded them through baths and bedtime stories, tucking them into their new beds with familiar blankets and stuffed animals.
Elena fell asleep first, followed by Sammy.
Chrissy fought it longer, but eventually her breathing evened out.
I found Duncan on the back patio, sitting in one of the wicker chairs with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The sky had darkened to deep purple, and landscape lights illuminated the garden beyond the deck.
"Thank you," I said, settling into the chair beside him. "For all of this."
He turned to look at me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the patio lights. "Come here."
I moved toward his chair, and he pulled me into his lap, arranging me so I was facing him. His hands settled on my waist, thumbs tracing small circles on the fabric of my shirt.
"You really have your life together," I said, glancing around the patio, the tasteful lighting, the well-tended garden. "Big house, the cushy job, a great future ahead of you… I don’t get it. Why aren’t you married?"
Duncan exhaled through his nose, one hand tightening on my waist. "That’s…
a long story." He took a sip of whiskey, then set the glass aside.
"After the scandal, after everything fell apart, I thought I was done with relationships.
Then I met someone at work. A partner. We were careful, kept it professional during the day, but after hours…
" He shrugged. "I thought it was real. I thought she cared about me the way I cared about her. "
I waited, sensing there was more.
"She used me. Got close to learn company secrets, used our relationship to position herself for a promotion. When I found out, it nearly destroyed me. Not the business part—the personal part. I'd let myself believe that someone could want me for who I was, not what I could give them."
"Duncan—"
"I've been afraid ever since. Afraid to trust anyone, afraid to let anyone close. Then when we had that fling… four years ago, I told myself it was for the best. That I'd dodged another bullet." He cupped my face in his hands. "But I was wrong. I was a coward."
"You're not a coward."
"I felt like it was just a mistake because of the promise I made your father. I was on the rebound after Meranda and you were so insistent." His eyes sparkled with emotion and I felt it pull at my heartstrings.
I leaned into his touch, my heart breaking for the pain in his voice. "We both made mistakes."
"I don't want to make them anymore."
He kissed me then, soft and tentative at first, then deeper as I responded.
His hands moved to my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he pulled me closer.
The kiss tasted of whiskey and regret and hope all mixed together.
The memory of our one night together, so many years ago, flooded back to me in a wave of heat.
I couldn't help but moan into his mouth as my hands trailed down the hard lines of his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his body.
Duncan's response was immediate and electric.
His grip on my hair tightened, angling my head back to deepen the kiss further.
His other hand slid down my back, settling on my hip, and with a growl, he pulled me harder against him.
I could feel every inch of his arousal pressing against my thigh, and I knew we couldn't do this outside.
Pushing away, I stood up and took his hand. He looked up at me with hesitation but I smirked at him and said, “What? You’re shy now? We have triplets, and you told my dad about us. I think we’ve crossed that line, Mr. Duncan.” I winked at him and he rose him with a half grin and a look of hunger.
“Then why are you keeping me waiting?” Duncan’s hands were on me again, and his heated palms found my skin as we struggled through the back door, baby monitor in hand. We barely made it to the couch before he was undressing me.
I moaned as Duncan's lips trailed down my neck, his hands roaming over my body, unfastening my blouse. He kissed his way down my collarbone, and I arched my back, giving him better access. His hands found my breasts, cupping them through my bra, and I couldn't help but gasp at the contact.
My own hands were not idle either. I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against mine.
Finally, I managed to undo the last button, and I pushed the fabric off his shoulders and pressed hot kisses to his chest. My hands found his belt and began working, and he tangled his hands in my hair again.
As Duncan's lips continued their downward path, I felt a shiver of anticipation zip through me.
His hands left my breasts, and I whimpered in protest, but he only smiled against my skin and hooked his fingers into my leggings.
Slowly, he eased them down my legs, along with my panties, leaving me naked and exposed to his hungry gaze.
The room was dimly lit, but I could still see the desire burning in his eyes as he took me in.