35. Ivy
IVY
I stood frozen in the hallway with feet that felt like ice cubes. The sound of the doorbell still reverberated through the house, and I knew who waited on the other side of that door before Mom called my name.
"Ivy, honey. Duncan's here."
My heart contracted painfully in my chest. I hadn't expected him to come, hadn't expected anything after what I'd overheard.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall.
More than three years of building walls around my heart, of convincing myself I was better off alone, and it felt like I'd let those walls down only to be hurt again.
Now here he was on my doorstep, unraveling everything I thought I knew about moving forward.
I walked toward the front door, and when I opened it, Duncan stood there with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, his face etched with the same exhaustion I felt bone-deep.
"I'm sorry," I said before he could speak. "I'm sorry I ran off but I couldn't?—"
"No." He shook his head, his voice rough. "I'm the one who's sorry. I should have told you about the retirement plans. I should have explained?—"
"Ivy?" Mom's voice interrupted from behind me.
I turned to see her walking down the hallway, Elena balanced on her hip.
Her dark hair was mussed from sleep, and she rubbed her eyes with tiny fists.
Dad followed close behind, carrying Sammy, while Chrissy toddled between them, her small hand gripping Dad's pants leg.
Duncan's expression softened as his gaze landed on Elena in Mom's arms. My little girl had been cranky all evening, but she perked up when she saw him, reaching her arms out with a sleepy smile.
"Mr. Duncan!" Chrissy called out, breaking free from Dad's grip and running toward him on unsteady legs.
He crouched down automatically, catching her in his arms. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, and I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders. Elena babbled from Mom's arms, waving her chubby fists in Duncan's direction.
"Hey, sweetheart," Duncan murmured to Chrissy, his voice gentle. After two weeks of living with us, the kids had grown comfortable with him, and he with them.
I reached out and touched his arm. "We should go somewhere. Talk."
He nodded, unable to look away from the children. When he finally stood, it was with pained movements, reminding me he wasn't twenty-something anymore. He cleared his throat and turned to Dad, who had been watching the entire exchange with an unreadable expression.
"Bill, I'd like to talk with you later. Man to man. But right now, I need to fix things with Ivy."
Dad studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "We'll be here."
Mom stepped forward, shifting Elena to her other hip. "Go on, both of you. Talk this out properly. We'll keep the girls."
Duncan's house felt different when we walked through the front door.
The familiar space seemed charged with possibility and fear in equal measure.
He led me to the living room, where the triplets' toys were still strewn around the floor, and we sat on opposite ends of the couch with too much distance between us.
"Tell me about the retirement," I said.
He ran his hands through his hair, disturbing the silver-streaked strands. "I've been planning it for years. Before you came back, before any of this—" he gestured between us "—I was burned out, Ivy. Tired of the politics, the backstabbing, the constant battle for control. I wanted out."
"And now?"
"Now I don't know what I want." He turned to face me fully. "Seeing you again changed everything. Seeing them…" He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion.
"Changed it how?"
"I never thought I could be happy the way other people are happy. With a family, with someone who stays. I thought I was broken after what happened with Meranda, after the scandal years ago. I convinced myself I was better off alone."
The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. "Duncan…"
"I was planning to retire, travel, maybe find someone worth putting down roots for. But I never imagined it would be you. I never imagined you'd come back."
I tucked my legs under me and studied his face. "I stopped dreaming of this kind of life years ago. When I had the triplets, I accepted that no man would want to take on a woman with three small children. I made peace with being alone."
"You were wrong."
The simple statement hung between us. I felt tears gathering again, but this time they weren't born of hurt or fear.
"Were you really going to leave?" I asked. "Even after finding out about the kids?"
"I don't know. I was confused, angry. Not at you—at myself. At the years I lost, at the way I handled everything." He moved closer, closing some of the distance between us. "But leaving was never about you, Ivy. It was about me being too scared to try."
"And now?"
"Now I'm still scared. But I'm more scared of losing you again."
I reached for him then, my fingers finding his hand. He squeezed gently, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles.
"I want to try," I said. "I want to see if we can make this work. But I need to know you're not going to disappear when things get hard."
"I'm not going anywhere." His voice was steady now. "I've canceled the retirement plans. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Don't cancel them for me. Cancel them because you want to build something here."
He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "I want to build something with you. With them. I want to learn how to be a father."
The words broke something open inside me. I leaned forward and kissed him, tentative at first, then deeper as he responded. His free hand came up to cup my face, and I could taste the salt of tears—mine or his, I couldn't tell.
When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "I love you," he whispered. "I've loved you for years, even when I was trying to forget you."
"I love you too," I whispered back.
I curled into his side. My knees brushed his thigh as he slid his arm around me. The warmth of his body sank into mine. I rested my cheek against his shoulder. I breathed him in—soap, aftershave, and something underneath I couldn’t name but always recognized.
“I can’t believe you showed up at my dad's house,” I murmured. “After everything.”
“You really thought I wouldn’t?” His hand moved slowly up and down my arm. “I know I’ve been a mess lately. But I’m not stupid enough to let you go without a fight.”
“I just didn't think you'd come,” I said, my voice low.
He shook his head. “I had to, my heart won't let me sleep at night without you."
“That makes two of us.” I tilted my head and looked up at him. “For years I convinced myself I was better off without you. I thought if I saw you again, I wouldn’t feel a thing.”
He smiled faintly. “And?”
“And I was wrong.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over my forehead. His hand tightened on my waist.
“I was terrified, Ivy. I still am. But you came back. You walked through all that hurt and shame… You opened the door.”
“Duncan…" I turned to face him more fully. I tucked one leg beneath me. He waited, watching me quietly, his hand still resting on my waist. "What happens now?" I asked.
His thumb traced a slow line over my hip. "We figure it out. Day by day. We make space for the chaos, the early mornings, the tantrums. And we do it together."
"You're sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I want bedtime stories. I want burnt waffles on Saturdays.
I want to be there when they lose their first teeth, and when they ask about boys or girls or life.
I want to know how you take your coffee when you're tired and how you laugh when you're not holding anything back. "
I blinked hard, trying not to cry again. "You really want all that?"
"With you? Yeah. I want the whole damn thing."
I leaned in and kissed him. He pulled me into his lap again, arms locking around me, our foreheads touching.
"Then we start tomorrow," I whispered.
"Tomorrow sounds perfect," he said.
And this time, I believed him.