Chapter 34
Ivy
“Remind me again why you didn’t want me to tell Wes about your birthday,” Sophie says, slurping the last dregs of her drink noisily from her straw.
“I’ve already told you, it felt weird just telling him. I thought if it came up naturally, I’d say something. Then I forgot for a little while, basically until this morning when I checked my phone and saw that I got a birthday email from my dentist.”
“Aw, I love those,” Sophie coos.
“Plus your brother has done so much for me, I just didn’t want to put that on him.”
“What do you mean put that on him? Why do you always say that?” Sophie asks, the humor that was there before, gone.
“Say what?” I ask.
“You always say you ‘don’t want someone to feel like they have to do something’ Or ‘I don’t want to put that on you.’ Or my favorite, ‘I didn’t want you to feel obligated.’” She of course mimics me with her air quotes.
Well, this just got real.
I don’t answer for a beat, and stir my drink with the straw, scanning the crowd of The Whiskey Hollow on the slow weekday night.
Sophie waits patiently, but eventually I muster the courage to speak up. “Well, my therapist likes to tell me that I have a fear of being a burden or have difficulty with vulnerability.” I grin at her, then wiggle my eyebrows playfully, just further driving that point home.
“Ah, yes. Well, you know that you aren’t right? A burden. To Wes, to me, to any of us.”
“Yeah, I know.” I reply, waving her off.
“Do you, though? Because someone who knew they weren’t a burden, probably would’ve called a friend when they needed somewhere to live.
They probably wouldn’t have made themselves at home in a run down motel room, and lied to everyone around them about it.
And they probably would’ve told their boyfriend that it was their birthday. Don't you think?”
I scrunch my nose at the boyfriend comment.
Is he my boyfriend? He said we were together.
The expression on her face is soft. She’s not angry with me, but she’s not sugar coating anything either.
All attempts at deflecting with humor have vanished and I clear my throat to will the burning sensation away to answer honestly.
“Yeah, probably.”
I know she’s right. I’ve told her all about my ex, and how manipulative he was, so I don’t need to rehash it all with her. Every single thing he did for me, he held against me. There was not one gift, or one favor that did not get thrown back in my face.
I recognize he’s the main reason I do this, but it’s still hard to stop. I was so raw and vulnerable after my parents death. He was all I had, so when he started acting like everything he did for me was some huge favor or inconvenience, I believed him.
When I’d ask him for little things—honestly bare minimum—he would sigh, and lay on the guilt trips. It got so bad, that I just stopped asking for help. He made me feel that if I relied on him too much, or was too dependent on him, he’d resent me, or worse, leave.
After years of therapy I understand that that’s not how healthy relationships work, and you should be able to trust and rely on your partner. And I do trust Wesley, I guess old habits just die hard.
It’s a tough instinct to fight. When every fiber of you is telling you to shoulder your own weight, to heal your own wounds, and to spare anyone around you the burden of you, it’s incredibly difficult to ask for help.
Sophie does me the courtesy and snaps me out of my thoughts.
“So, don’t you think you should be able to tell the man that clearly loves you, important things about you, like your god damn birthday?
” she asks, twirling a lock of long blonde hair around her finger, checking the ends casually as if she didn’t just drop the L word.
I rear my head back. “Love me?” I all but gasp, as if I was clutching my pearls.
I slam both of my hands on the table, and lean toward my mischievously smirking friend.
“Is that what he told you? What did he say? Tell me exactly what he said verbatim, or I’m going to throw up right now,” I demand.
She snickers. “He didn’t tell me anything. I can see it. We can all see it. But now I know for sure that you love him too,” she responds, then sips a piece of ice into her mouth and crunches loudly, a victorious look on her beautiful face.
I blush furiously, and Sophie ‘uh-huhs’ smugly. Of course I love him. I knew it all the way back in Texas. I love that little girl too.
Fiercely.
I haven’t told him yet. I know he said he doesn’t want to scare me away, but I feel the same. He was so reluctant to bring someone into his and Delilah’s life again, I don’t want to rush his process.
I’ll wait as long as I have to, because they’re it for me.
When he’s finally ready to bring me fully into his and Delilah’s bubble, I’ll be there, no hesitation. I feel like I’ve finally found my place with them, and I’d wait however long I needed to for him to be ready to accept me into their world.
For him, I'd wait forever.
The look of horror on his face when he found out it was my birthday flashes through my mind, and I internally cringe. I feel like an asshole.
“Just do something for me, will you?” Sophie pipes up, serious again.
“Anything.”
“Ask for help when you need it. When something matters, tell Wes. We love you. You’re family now, Ivy.”
I nod vehemently and give Sophie a watery smile. “I will.”
————
I kiss Sophie’s cheek and slip out of her car when she drops me off.
We keep our promise and are back before Lilah’s bedtime.
I watch as Sophie drives off toward her house a few miles down the road, then take a deep breath, readying myself to face Wesley again.
I look at the sun that still lights the sky, summoning courage, and head up the porch.
When I walk in the door, my heart stalls in my chest, as Wesley and Delilah scare the living shit out of me. Just as I swing the door open I’m accosted by a loud shrill sound, and the two cutest people on the planet sporting party hats and blowing on what I now realize, are party noisemakers.
I clutch my chest in shock as they yell in unison, “Happy Birthday!”
Delilah is grinning ear to ear and Wesley’s lips twitch at my reaction. I can’t help it, I laugh uncontrollably, cackling at how bad they scared me. When I get myself under control, I wipe under my eyes and re-focus on them.
Delilah grabs what looks like her homemade card, and a large white gift bag she struggles to carry.
She drags them over to me, and hands me the card first. It’s yellow paper, covered in stickers, pom-poms and belligerent drawings, and when I unfold it, it just says “IVY”.
I throw my head back and laugh again, then bend down and wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight.
“Thank you, I love it,” I tell her honestly. “I’ll hang it up in my room.”
Delilah beams at that, then points to the bag at her feet. “That’s for you,” she shouts.
She’s bouncing up and down, hardly containing her excitement. I glance up at Wesley, and he tips his head toward the bag. He has his hands in his pockets, and rocks back on his heels as his colorful, corded forearms flex like he’s fidgeting in his pockets.
“Open it, honey,” he says so sweetly, I have no choice but to melt on the spot.
I grab the bag off the ground, and notice the weight of it. No wonder Delilah was dragging it. I walk over to the dining room table, with Delilah and her dad on my heels.
“How did you get something so fast?” I ask aloud.
“We had to hurry,” Delilah says with exasperation, wiping fake sweat from her brow. When I slice my gaze to Wesley, his shoulders are shaking. He covers his eyes with one hand and shakes his head.
“Smooth, bug.” he tells his very honest daughter.
The smile on my face falls as soon I pull out what’s in the bag. I whip my head over to Wesley with wide eyes.
“Happy Birthday,” he says, and I can tell he’s holding himself back from pulling me into him.
“Wesley…” I trail off, preparing to give him a lecture about how I don’t need this, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to do this. Then I remember my conversation with Sophie just an hour ago, and I take a deep breath and meet Wesley’s eye.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. This is insane. Thank you, Wesley.”
I set the box down and walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his middle, and pressing my cheek to his chest. He squeezes me back hard, and I feel him kiss the top of my head.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers.
I feel a tiny body collide with my butt, and I look down to see Delilah hugging my legs from behind.
“Daddy said it’s because your computer is a dinosaur and you’ll like writing more on this one,” she says, her voice muffled by my butt cheek.
I laugh and bury my face into Wesley’s shirt, and bring one hand behind me to hold Delilah’s head with my hand, attempting to hug them both.
“He’s right, it is a dinosaur,” I agree. “I love it so much. Thank you, you guys.”
“You’re welcome,” Delilah replies, and gives me one final squeeze from behind before releasing me. “Now the next part!” she demands.
“The next part?” I pull back from Wesley and crane my neck to look at him with an arched brow.
“Go get some comfortable clothes on.” is all he says.
————
“Where are we going?” I ask the two conspirators from the passenger seat of Wesley’s truck.
Wesley responds by bringing his finger to his lips, and looking at Delilah in the rearview mirror, gesturing for her to keep quiet. She giggles uncontrollably, and I turn in my seat to give her the stink eye, feigning irritation, which only makes her laugh harder.
We don’t head in the direction of town, but further into the property.
After ten or so minutes, we start to ascend, following the dirt road up a tree lined hill.
The forest surrounds us on either side, and I can’t tell where we’re going.
I’ve never been this far out here, and I start to wonder if this “hill” is actually a mountain.
Just like the lake is actually a “pond.”