Chapter 37 #2
I slink out of her bed, and tip toe around the magnet blocks and dolls loitering around. We need to clean up in here tomorrow. When I quietly shut the door behind me, I can’t help but lean against the door for just a minute.
I lub you.
I replay her soft sweet little voice in my head. I hope she can never say her v’s. It’s one of my favorite things ever. I want to eternally be “Iby” to her. I’ve always been on the fence about having kids, but this little girl makes it really hard not to want more and more of her.
Does Wesley even want more kids? If he doesn’t, I think I would be just fine with Delilah being the one and only. I know I didn’t grow her in my belly like Sarah did, but it doesn’t make me love her any less. I wish I could’ve known the woman that makes up half of that little girl.
I will always be endlessly thankful for her.
I smile to myself, feeling incredibly grateful for my life at the moment. I get to spend my days with two of my favorite people in the world, all while following my dreams, and pursuing my passion.
Life honestly kicks ass.
With that thought, and a little pep in my step I practically skip to rejoin Sophie in the living room, side-eyeing those unhappy looking plants in the corner.
Wesley has been gone for only five days, and somehow I’ve managed to piss them off already.
I’m terrified of killing them. I water them everyday, but it’s just something about me, about my aura probably.
They know I’m scared.
Like a dog, they can sense it.
I find Sophie in the kitchen, picking at a container of cookies Rose sent us home with that I didn’t get a chance to try earlier. I plop down on a barstool, and grab one for myself.
“So,” I start, and take a large bite. “What are we going to do about Beau?” I ask around a mouthful.
“Nothing is what we’re going to do. I’ve made a fool of myself in front of that man way too many times in my life. Not anymore,” she says with total confidence.
“Hell yeah!” I fist pump the air, like my mothers and fathers before me, the ones who graced the righteous shore of Jersey, earning me a laugh from her.
“You need to get laid. How long has it been?” For as long as I’ve known her, Sophie has been fairly lowkey about her sex life. She gives me bits and pieces, but isn’t one to talk about it openly all the time.
She looks down at her cookie, avoiding my eyes.
“Sophie…”
“Two years,” she mutters.
I gasp loudly for dramatic effect.“Unacceptable,” I say incredulously. “You need to be wine, dined, and sixty-nined, pronto.”
Sophie chokes on the bite she just took, and flushes bright red immediately. I watch, amused, as her entire chest and neck gets blotchy and turns a healthy shade of crimson. She splutters, and I giggle.
I have no room to talk, before Wesley it had also been over a year since I had any sex. Sophie knows it too, which is why she’s giving me the are you kidding me? look.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I challenge. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t need an orgasm, not brought on by yourself, ” I add, quickly. “and I’ll leave it alone.”
Damn these cookies are good. I grab another, and eat half of it in one bite, narrowing my gaze on Sophie.
“Yes, of course you’re right!” she exclaims, flailing her arms.
“Huzzah!” I bask in my victory, slapping the counter. “We need to find you someone to fuck. Dating apps, out in the wild, whatever. I’ll shop around. Just one, solid, non-self orgasm, and Beau will be a thing of the past.” I smile brightly.
I don’t actually believe that, but words of encouragement and all.
“Please don’t say ‘shop around’,” She raises her fingers in the air, to quote me.
“When referring to my sex life,” she says, groaning.
“But thank you for helping. I’ve been really in my feelings lately, and I think you’re right.
I need to just bang someone, get it out of my system, and I’ll be good to go.
” She nods at her cookie, more talking to herself I think.
I clear my throat. “See? Now, what apps are you on right now?”
I scratch the side of my neck, and watch as Sophie pulls out her phone. She comes around the kitchen island, and shows me the one and only dating app she’s on. She navigates to her profile, and I scan it, reading all the preferences she chose when creating it.
I take a sip of water, and try to focus on the screen, and clear my throat again.
“Soph, it says you’re looking for a long-term relationship. We have to change that.” I take the phone, and begin adjusting her profile to fit her needs better.
“Why? That’s what I want.”
Oh my sweet, sweet Soph.
I take another sip of water, and cough.
What the hell?
“You can’t let the men know that. There, see? I put… looking for something casual. That will draw the men in. Orgasm, here you come,” I say, then snort. “Literally.”
I take a deep breath through my nose, and it feels a little off.
I think I might be getting sick.
Sophie tries to snatch her phone back, but I hold strong, editing her bio on her profile. I swallow, and it feels like it takes a bit of effort to do so.
What…No. It couldn’t.
I slowly set Sophie's phone down when the strange, but familiar feeling in my throat and mouth overtakes my senses, and my eyes widen in horror.
Sophie watches me pull the container of cookies that I didn’t try at Rose’s house over to us, and break one in half inspecting the insides.
That’s when the dots connect, and chaos ensues.
“What are you doing?” Sophie chuckles.
My phone begins ringing.
“Are these walnuts?” I croak.
“Yeah, they’re good huh?” Sophie says casually.
Her confirming my fears makes the itching and swelling increase by leaps and bounds. My mind races, thinking about the last time I saw my EpiPen. I know I had it when I moved out of my apartment, and I think I remember seeing it when I moved in here.
Where is it?
“Oh, fuck,” I say hoarsely, and take another drink of water.
My phone continues to ring.
Sophie finally turns to me fully, and I must look a little crazed, because she blanches.
“Oh my god, are you allergic?” she screeches.
“Yes,” I wheeze, and push back from my barstool. My EpiPen must be in the small box I haven’t unpacked under the bathroom sink in the guestroom. Or I threw it in the bedside table. I move to go rummage around and fetch it, but Sophie stops me with a hand on my arm.
The phone rings again.
“Do you have an EpiPen?” she asks frantically.
I’m starting to struggle on my inhale, and I nod.
“Guest room. Bedside table or under the sink,” I answer her. My voice is ragged, and I take another sip of water, though I know it won’t help.
My phone rings again, and Sophie growls, swiping it from the kitchen island, and answering it while running down the hall toward the guest room. My heart slams against my ribs, and I start to panic. I know I just need the shot, but it doesn’t stop the tremor of fear that runs through me.
“Were a little busy Wes, Ivy is dying!” she wails, her feet pounding on the hardwood.
That’s not entirely true, but also, not entirely wrong either.
I hear Wesley’s deep voice bellow something back at his sister, but I can’t make out what.
I take another rough inhale when Sophie comes barreling back to me less than a minute later, EpiPen in hand, and my phone in the other. Damn, that was fast.
“What do I do?” she yells.
“Jesus Soph, don’t wake up Delilah.” I croak.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Sophie asks, incredulous.
“Ivy? What’s happening?” I hear Wesley’s panicked voice ask over the phone now beside me on the island.
Sophie put him on speaker. Great, it’s a family affair.
Of course.
I quickly instruct my not so chill friend how to administer the EpiPen correctly, removing it from the casing and taking off the safety cap. I place it in her shaking hand, and show her the correct motion and force in which I want her to jab me, starting to gasp for breath.
“Ivy? Sophie? What the hell!” I distantly hear the edge in Wesley’s tone, but my main focus is living right now, so he can wait. I sit down on the barstool, and motion for Sophie to step beside me.
“She’s having an allergic reaction! She can’t breathe! I'm stabbing her with a giant needle!” Sophie shouts down the line.
I hear a litany of curses, followed by a squeak of fear from Sophie.
My throat is practically fully swollen now, and I start to panic. “Now, Soph.” I can barely get the words out.
She screams as if she’s in an ancient roman battle, squeezing her eyes shut and swinging her arm down like a pendulum to stab me with the sweet juice of life, epinephrine.
Silence follows Sophie’s battle cry, and a few seconds pass before I begin to feel the air return to my lungs. A couple minutes pass, and I take my first full, deep breath.
“Are you alright?” Sophie asks shakily as I massage the punctured area.
“Yeah,” I croak, taking a few more deep breaths, and squeezing her arm. “You did good. Thank you.”
“Oh, thank god. We did it.” She celebrates, panting and raising her arms above her head like we just completed a marathon, and not like she just brought me back from the brink of death. It’s so absurd, it makes me chuckle, despite the headache I feel coming on.
“Ivy,” a strained voice crackles over the phone.
Oh, shit. Wesley.
I pick up my phone, and take it off speaker. I watch as Sophie snatches the entire container of cookies off of the counter, and throws them in the trash violently, like they’ve personally wronged her.
I bring the phone to my ear. “Hi,” I say, still a little rough, but much better than before.
“What. Happened,” Wesley chokes out.
It’s not really a question, it’s a command. He doesn’t even try to hide the anger in his voice, though I know it’s not directed at me, but at the situation.
“I had an allergic reaction to the walnuts in a cookie. No big deal, I had my emergency medicine. We’re all good,” I try to soothe him.
“I’m coming home.”