Chapter 16
Micah
The shopping trip takes longer than I thought it would, mainly because saying no to Nell is impossible.
Apparently, I intend to make up for missing her entire life all at once.
My spending spree gets so bad, she starts telling me no, but I still drag her through several more stores, including a comic book shop on a whim, which turns into a super win.
Apparently, the little girl who loves superheroes has never heard of comic books before.
We stop for dinner, then ice cream, and by the time we get her room set up with her new gear, it’s after nine.
While Ivy draws Nell a bath, I pour myself a drink and move to the patio to watch the stars. To unwind. To give myself space to stop thinking and process the knot of emotions in my chest and stomach. I sit on one of my deck chairs, propping an ankle on my knee.
Nell is awesome and I love her more with every fucking minute. Which is insane. I barely know the girl. Is it realistic to love her already?
The answer is simple. Realistic or not, that’s how I feel. Maybe it’s just part of being a dad.
I snort. Like I know the first thing about being a dad, especially to someone who spent her entire life without one.
And Ivy? Shit. Spending time with her feels just as easy as it used to, but it’s also so complicated. Two days ago, she hated me. Today, it’s almost like she never left…
…except for me not knowing anything about who this new version of her is or what she’s been through.
And something tells me she’s been through something big. She’s jumpy. And she never has an opinion without checking on mine first. And in what world would a kid not be allowed to have comic books and how was Ivy okay with that?
It’s a lot.
“You pretty much made Nell’s millennium today.”
Ivy lingers in the doorway, arms crossed, a soft smile turning her beauty into something to rival the stars. Her hair is down. Her guard is too. I have to look away for my heart to stop thundering. “If all it took was some comic books and superhero plushies then her bar has been set too low.”
“When it comes to how she’s been treated by the men in her life, yeah, her bar’s too low.”
I stare at my feet, assuming that’s a dig at me, but Ivy continues.
“She was never allowed to have superhero-themed things. And comic books? No way. My ex thought all that stuff was tacky and inappropriate for a lady. And since he was the one paying for everything, her room was pink and frilly and looked like a princess threw up in there.”
I try to wrap my head around dictating someone’s likes and dislikes and can’t. “Didn’t that cause some massive disagreements between you two?”
Ivy frowns. “Julian wasn’t big on ‘dissent.’”
That’s the second time she’s alluded to this ex of hers being a class-A douchebag and I start to ask her about it, but she speaks before I can.
“Anyway, I wanted to say thank you. And not just for the things you bought, but for everything, for the way you treated her like the princess she never wants to be. For dinner and ice cream and for finally having rooms with doors on them. Sleeping in the living room has taken some getting used to. I can’t imagine what today was like for you, but it meant a lot to us. ”
It meant a lot to me too, but going down that road? Starting a discussion that deep after just one day? While Ivy’s still technically engaged? That won’t be good for either of us.
I half-smile and take a drink. “Surreal,” I say after I swallow. “Today has been surreal.”
Ivy pushes off the doorframe and takes a single step onto the deck, then pauses as if she’s unsure her company is welcome.
At the foundation, I told her we might never be okay again, but that was the shock talking.
I feel like today should have shown her that even when I have every right to be mad… I’m not.
I can’t be. Not at her.
“Surreal’s probably an understatement,” she says with a tentative smile and one more step forward.
“Definitely an understatement, but I never did have a great vocabulary. It’s the best word I can come up with.”
How do you jump back into a relationship that never should have broken to begin with?
What am I supposed to say? Fall back into chitchatty bullshit?
Talk about the weather? That feels wrong, but so does talking about anything important.
It’s been a long couple days and I don’t have it in me to hash out all the complicated shit that led us to this moment. She’s apologized. So have I.
Maybe it’s best if we just move on and say goodnight.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Ivy half-smiles again and steps back. Hesitant. Questioning. Retreating.
“Have a drink with me?” I point at the deck chair beside me, and she seems stunned by my invitation.
“Yeah. Sure. If you don’t mind.”
I probably should mind. She’s in the middle of breaking up with her fiancé and who knows how long they were together.
Long enough for him to load her up with a bunch of baggage, that’s for fucking sure.
She and I have history to work through that isn’t as rosy as I thought it was, and my emotional state has been all over the place.
But the thought of having her in my house but not with me is un-fucking-acceptable.
I place both feet on the deck, resting my elbows on my knees. The moon is bright, casting streaks of silver across Ivy’s face and hair. I want to trace my fingers along those contours, reacquainting myself with the features that used to be more familiar than my own.
Like I said. Emotional state…all over the place. I go from pumping the brakes to flooring the gas in seconds. It’s the last thing either of us needs.
Looking away, I clear my throat. “I think I’ve got a bottle of Merlot in there. If you’re interested.”
She smiles and I never want her to look at me another way. “How’d you know I like Merlot?”
Because I paid attention to everything you said, every dream, whisper, and secret you shared.
I know you always wanted to experience a white Christmas and wonder what you think now that you have.
I know you love asparagus and hate olives.
I know your favorite time of day is first thing in the morning when it’s too early for me to function.
Or, at least, I used to know those things.
“It was your mom’s favorite wine, and you always said you loved the way it smelled.” I stand and gesture behind me. “Have a seat. I’ll pour. Need a refill anyway,” I say, rattling my empty bottle, then head into the kitchen to give myself space to breathe.