Ivy
Hampton, Virginia
I wake slowly, aware of how safe I feel before anything else.
There’s solid warmth at my back, a muscular arm draped securely across my waist, fingers loosely curled against my stomach like he found me in the night and never let go.
For a few quiet seconds, I just exist there, suspended in that hazy space between sleep and awareness, the steady rhythm of Dalton’s breathing at my neck grounding me in a way that feels unfamiliar and still deeply comforting at the same time.
Then memory rushes back all at once.
His room. His hands. His comfort.
My cheeks warm instantly, a slow smile tugging at my lips before I can stop it.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but the small movement makes his arm tighten reflexively, pulling me closer. The subtle press of his body behind mine makes it very clear he’s not as asleep as he might appear.
“Good morning, beautiful,” his voice murmurs, rough with sleep, warm against my shoulder.
I smile, turning gently in his arms until I’m facing him. His hair is a little messy, his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them, the guarded edge he usually carries nowhere to be found.
“Hi,” I whisper.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. We just look at each other, the quiet stretching in a way that doesn’t feel awkward or rushed. Just…full.
His hand slides slowly along my arm, like he’s reacquainting himself with the reality that I’m actually here.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
The question is simple, but there’s something deeper beneath it. Like he’s making sure nothing feels different now that everything has changed.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.” More than okay.
I didn’t expect the calm. I didn’t expect the absence of regret. If anything, I feel…steadier.
We stayed awake talking for awhile last night. At some point, Dalton threw clothes on and went out to grab my phone since it has Had’s monitor on it and even though she’s three, I haven’t let go of needing to know she’s safe during the night. Those clothes didn’t stay on long though.
His thumb brushes lightly along my hip beneath the sheets like touching me has already become something natural to him.
“I was worried you might panic,” he admits, voice softer now.
I huff a quiet laugh. “I probably should be.”
His mouth curves faintly. “But you’re not.”
“No,” I admit, meeting his eyes. “I’m not.”
The tension eases from his shoulders as he pulls me a little closer, pressing a slow kiss to my forehead that feels unexpectedly intimate.
This is comfortable. Easy.
Dangerously easy.
My phone ringing on the nightstand slices through the moment.
The sound is jarring and pulls me abruptly back into reality.
Kyler’s name flashes across the screen.
Every muscle in my body tightens at once.
Dalton doesn’t say anything, but I feel the subtle stillness in him, the way his hand pauses lightly at my waist before he slowly lets go enough for me to reach for the phone.
Guilt hits harder than I expect. Sharp and immediate, settling heavily in my chest even though I know—logically—I haven’t done anything wrong.
Kyler and I are divorced.
We’ve been divorced.
He walked out. I may have opened the door, but he walked through it.
Still, the reality of answering his call while still wrapped in another man’s sheets feels…messy.
I clear my throat quietly before answering. “Hey, Ky.”
“Hey,” Kyler says, his voice as familiar as ever. “I know it’s early, but I was hoping I could stop by before Had goes to school.”
My eyes flick briefly to Dalton, who’s watching me carefully now, expression neutral but attentive.
“Of course,” I say quickly, maybe too quickly. “She’d love that.”
“Thanks,” Kyler says. “I won’t stay long. Just wanted to see her. I’ll be over in thirty minutes if that’s okay?”
“That’s great,” I murmur. “We’ll see you soon.”
We hang up, and I set the phone back down slowly, suddenly very aware of the quiet in the room again.
Dalton doesn’t immediately fill it. He gives me space, which somehow makes everything feel more overwhelming.
“I feel weird,” I admit finally, staring at the rumpled sheets between us.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he says gently.
“I know,” I say quickly. “I just…I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m doing something wrong even though I know I’m not.”
His hand finds mine beneath the blanket, fingers threading ours together. It feels patient, not possessive. “Do you want us to slow down?” he asks quietly.
“No.”
Kyler has been a huge part of my life for a long time. He’s Hadley’s father. He knows how particular I am about my nails being perfect all the time. Knows I hate the sound of the garbage disposal. Knows how to calm Hadley down when she’s overtired. Knows exactly what both of us need all the time.
There’s history and love there that probably won’t ever go away.
Dalton studies my face carefully, like he’s trying to read every thought moving behind my eyes.
“Hey,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “We don’t have to define anything right now.”
The simple reassurance loosens the knot in my chest.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, creating space without making it feel like distance.
“I should probably go get showered and dressed before Had gets up,” I say reluctantly, already missing the warmth of the bed.
His mouth curves faintly. “Probably.”
Neither of us moves immediately.
Eventually I slide from beneath the covers, acutely aware of his gaze following me as I gather my clothes from the floor. The quiet familiarity of the movement feels strangely intimate, domestic in a way that makes my chest tighten again.
When I glance back at him, he’s propped on one elbow, watching me with an expression that’s equal parts soft and entirely too distracting for six thirty in the morning.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter, pulling my shirt over my head.
“Like what?” he asks innocently.
“Like we didn’t just completely complicate our lives.”
His smile is slow, unbothered. “Complicated doesn’t always mean bad.”
I pause at that.
Because the truth is…nothing about last night felt wrong. Terrifying, yes. Life-altering, probably.
But not wrong.
Still, as I glance at the clock and mentally calculate how soon Kyler will be standing in the living room, reality presses back in.
Hadley. Schedules. History. Expectations. Questions I don’t have answers to yet.
I look back at Dalton once more before heading for the door.
He reaches for my hand briefly as I pass, tugging me gently back toward him just long enough to press a soft kiss to my mouth.
“Good morning, beautiful," he murmurs again, like he wants to make sure I remember it started that way.
And despite the nerves already creeping in…I smile.