Chapter 17
Micah
I grab a wine glass from the cabinet and open a bottle of Merlot, watching Ivy through the window as I pour.
So much for moving on and saying goodnight.
So much for not complicating things. So much for keeping things professional between us.
There’s no way drinks and conversation won’t lead to something.
Maybe forgiveness. Maybe understanding. Maybe her in my arms… my bed…
Or maybe we’ll find ourselves right back where we were in Nathan’s office. Angry. Defensive. Simmering in years of misunderstanding…
Either way, saying goodnight is a long way off.
When I open the fridge to grab a beer, I spy the box of raspberries I bought specifically because Ivy loves them.
I grab those, then a hunk of gouda because who doesn’t love cheese with their berries and wine?
Humming softly, I slice the cheese, sipping beer and arranging the snack on a plate, until movement in the doorway catches my attention.
Ivy smiles when she sees what’s on the counter.
“You were taking so long, I thought you got tired of things being awkward between us, so you went to bed and forgot to say anything.” Her entire body tenses and she hurries to add, “That’s not a jab at you for, you know, breaking your phone and not telling me. ”
I did tell you. You’ve just conveniently forgotten. Kind of like you forgot you broke up with me, which started this whole mess in the first place.
Look at that. Two minutes in and I’m angry and defensive. I really don’t want to ruin a good day with a fight, so I push the thoughts away and smile instead. There will be time for that conversation later.
“It’d be funny if it was a jab.” And a whole lot more like the Ivy I used to know.
“But no. I got into the fridge to grab a beer and thought you might like a snack. I saw the raspberries at the store and thought of you. And the cheese? I mean, come on, right? They just go together like…” I start to say ‘you and me’ but stop.
“Like Sherlock and Watson?” Ivy folds her arms across her stomach, her eyes lighting up as she names one of our favorite shows when we were kids.
“Or salt and pepper,” I suggest.
“Shoes and socks.” She giggles, relaxing even more.
“Exactly. See? You know what’s what.” I shrug, sliding the plate and glass her way. “Bon appetit.”
Ivy stares at the berries with a strange look—sweet, almost nostalgic—then climbs onto one of the island chairs and sips her wine. “This is very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You say thoughtful, I say distractible. Yours feels better, but mine is probably the truth.” I push off the counter and lean against the wall, trying to keep it cool.
What am I doing? No clue.
What do I want? No clue there, either.
I’m acting on impulse, on memories, on years of being certain Ivy was the one, but there’s so much left unsaid between us.
The tension is ridiculous. It’s like I’m fifteen again and not sure if she likes me, while being a thousand percent head over heels for her.
Only, we’re adults, who used to be in love, and being with her still feels natural, which makes me uncomfortable because it shouldn’t feel natural.
Too much time has passed. Too much has changed.
Ivy sips her wine, plucking raspberries off the plate and popping them into her mouth with little sighs of pleasure. I fold my arms over my chest and pretend not to watch. I’ve always been obsessed with her mouth.
“After dinner and ice cream, the last thing I need is more food.” She lifts her glass and takes a sip anyway. “But, you managed to pick all the favorites I’ve been missing since I left Seattle, so I’ll just have to make better decisions tomorrow.”
“Since when do you worry about your weight?”
“Since I had a baby that totally changed the shape of my body. You could always help me out by eating some of this before I can. Come on, Micah.” She pats the chair beside her. “Save me from myself.”
Sitting next to her would be a catastrophe.
Every brush of her skin has driven me fucking insane today, and three beers later, my inhibitions are low enough that I don’t trust myself to behave.
Given all the complications between us, the worst thing I could do is give in to my misplaced and mistimed lust.
I lift my beer to my lips and tip it up. “I’m good over here, but thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and pops a berry in her mouth.
I watch her chew, and suddenly I’m pushing off the wall and closing the distance. Call me an idiot, I know I will later, but I can’t ignore Ivy. I never could. She’s always been my whole fucking world and now that she’s here, I’m screwed.
I stop with the island between us, leaning on the counter to select a piece of cheese.
“You feel like talking?” God, I sound like an idiot.
“I mean, what we did at the foundation was more yelling and accusing and then shock and awe and walking away. And what we did at the bar was more planning. Shitty planning. Impulsive planning. But hey…you get what you get with me, and impulsivity is part of the package. We haven’t really talked. ”
“We haven’t. Not really.”
“I want to know…” I shake my head and sigh. “Everything. I want to know everything.”
“That’s a big subject. I guess we could start with what I know about ancient Egypt, then move on to Freud and Jung, and from there, you know, the internet will help. But ‘everything’ might take us a while.”
There it is. A glimmer of the girl I used to know. Something tells me that kind of humor wouldn’t fly with that douche in Seattle.
“About you, silly,” I say. “I want to know everything about you. What happened after you found out you were pregnant?”
“It was hard.” Ivy takes another drink. I watch her lips touch the glass and wish I could pull the thing from her hands and claim that kiss as mine.
“How did your parents take it?”
“I think Mom was secretly thrilled at the prospect of a baby but scared to death over what it meant for me. She was supportive until Dad shut that down in his own special way.”
“At least he had me to blame for everything.” Franklin Cole never liked me and did nothing to hide his opinions. He never thought I was good enough for his little girl. He was right, of course. No one’s good enough for Ivy, but I vowed I’d do everything I could to step up.
“Dad made sure I knew I was just as responsible. Maybe more so.” She stares at a berry stain on her finger, then sucks it into her mouth.
“He sat me down one evening after I’d finally accepted that you’d…
” She sighs, shaking her head and it’s like the weight of the world has settled on her shoulders.
“I thought you’d abandoned me. Oh, God Micah. I was such a mess. You have no idea.”
Technically she abandoned me first, but now’s not the time to drop that bomb.
“And Dad?” Ivy continues. “He swoops in, promising to take care of me, provide food and clothing…toys…for Nell. The only stipulation was that he wouldn’t pay for childcare. It seemed so reasonable at first.”
“I’m sure your mom was happy to pitch in.” I think of my own mother and how she’d be around a baby. Shit…I need to tell my parents about Nell…
Talk about dropping bombs. Hey Mom? Dad? I’d like you to meet your granddaughter. She’s six and all I know about her is her name, her favorite flavor of ice cream, and that she hates all things pink. Have fun!
“See.” Ivy picks up a berry then puts it down, before sliding the plate away.
“That’s where things got unreasonable. Dad forbade Mom to help.
‘To teach me a lesson about responsibility,’ he said.
Because I needed a healthy reminder about choices and consequences and obviously, growing up with so much privilege had blinded me to the realities of the world.
” Ivy sucks in her lips, then chews on the bottom one.
I watch, transfixed, until I swallow hard and straighten. “Would he let your friends watch Nell? Or your friends’ parents?”
“There’s yet another catch. The second Dad learned I was pregnant, he yanked me out of my hoity toity private school and enrolled me in an online high school. I didn’t really have any friends.”
“Which meant no job.”
“And no college.” Ivy folds her arms on the counter.
“It was a miracle of timing I didn’t fail my senior year.
My due date was the week before graduation.
I busted my ass to get my grades as strong as possible in case Nell came early, but thankfully, she was late.
Which meant I graduated before she was born and only fell a little behind because of appointments and just generally feeling awful towards the end. ”
Meanwhile, my senior year was spent going to parties and prom, staying out late and doing just enough work so my parents wouldn’t complain about my grades. I feel like such a fucking asshole. Guilt twists my insides as I think of everything she had to give up.
“So your dream of being a psychologist?”
Ivy spins her wine glass on the counter and sighs. “That died a long time ago. My life is dedicated to that little girl up there.” She points toward the stairs with a mix of ferocity and devotion.
Becoming a psychologist was all Ivy ever wanted.
Every elective she took in high school was aimed at making her more appealing to colleges.
She even interned at a clinic one summer to gain medical experience.
Her not being able to see that dream come true?
Un-fucking-acceptable. Everything she’s been through is unacceptable.
“But you have more free time, now that Nell’s in school, right?” And a fiancé who should have been encouraging her to put her life back on track the second she was able.
“That’s true. And I did look into some online colleges when she started kindergarten last year, just to get the ball rolling, you know?
But Julian—my fiancé…or ex-fiancé I guess, as soon as I tell him this break is permanent.
” She bites her lip, staring at her bare ring finger.
“He made it pretty clear he didn’t want me working. So why bother with college at all?”
“And you were okay with that?” It’s one thing if Ivy wanted to devote her time to being a mom, but if she had time she wanted to devote to herself, and that man had the resources to make it possible? He should have. End of story. That’s what partnership is about. Supporting each other.
“I’d had a few years of being brought down a peg or two by my dad.
And at that point, Julian seemed like…I don’t know…
a savior. He told me I could focus my energy on Nell and make sure she had the best start possible.
It wasn’t until recently I realized that meant I had no freedom, no autonomy.
No way to make a life that wasn’t completely dependent on him.
What I haven’t decided yet if it was intentional or not. Did he break me down on purpose?”
“Does it matter if he did it on purpose or not? It was wrong either way.”
She drops her gaze and I reach across the counter to lift her chin and meet her eyes.
“I hate that you had to go through all that alone. Shit. I hate that you went through it at all, alone or not. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“I’m better for it. Stronger, you know?” Ivy straightens, giving me that stupid smile people save for useless platitudes.
She doesn’t seem better. And she certainly isn’t stronger. I start to say as much, then swallow it back with a swig of beer. Is our new relationship open to that kind of honesty?
Ivy frowns. Exhales. Shakes her head. “You know what? No. I’m not better for it.
That’s the kind of stupid shit dad or Julian would want me to say.
That my challenges made me stronger. That I’ve learned so much.
But I’m not stronger. I’m docile and weak and I just do whatever I think will make other people happy and I’ve been miserable for years and didn’t even notice.
The only thing that brings me any joy at all is that little girl up there and she’s going to grow up and leave me someday.
I have no dreams. No passion. It’s just been years of feeling like I’ve let everyone down and will never be good enough and I hate feeling this way. I hate it!”
Ivy’s chin trembles and her eyes fill with emotion. She swipes a hand over her mouth like she can wipe away the truth. Like now that she’s said it, she wishes she hadn’t.
“So yeah.” She sucks in her lips. “There’s that.”
I’m furious. Ready to jump to her defense. To stand between her and the assholes who’ve made her feel like this. But the monsters aren’t in this room, so there’s nothing for me to do with the feeling. It just churns in my chest instead.
“I don’t know what to say. I want to help, but how do I save you from something that already happened?”
“It’s not your job to save me, Micah. This is something I have to do myself.” Her voice is quiet. “I should probably…” She jerks her thumb toward the stairs. “I should probably get my room set up. The cot’s still where we left it.”
I push off the counter, eager to be useful. “I’ll do it.”
“I can do it. It kind of feels good, doing things for myself.” She heads for the stairs.
“I don’t like the idea of you sleeping on that cot.”
“I’ll be fine.”
But she isn’t fine, and she hasn’t been fine and suddenly, the thought of her on that cot is as intolerable as the years she spent having someone chip away at her confidence. I promised to take care of her forever.
And I keep my promises.
“You take my bed…”
“Micah…”
I catch her wrist. She looks down at my hand, her lips parted, her chest heaving. I intended to fight her on the sleeping arrangements, but when her eyes meet mine, everything but Ivy falls away.
Her skin. Her lips. The flutter of her eyelashes. The heat of her gaze. A thousand memories of her taste, her moans, her sighs, the sting of her fingernails down my back.
I thread a hand into her hair, cupping the nape of her neck, and kiss her like she’s still mine. Like she’s still the girl I promised to love forever, while her fingers traced lazy circles along my chest.
She gasps, lips parting, chest heaving. She grips my arms, pulling me closer, then sliding her fingers into my hair.
She tastes of wine, of berries, of a thousand kisses from my past, but feels so solid, so real, so out of place in my present.
My tongue glides against hers, one hand cupping her head, the other sliding to the curve of her waist.
My dick throbs, needy. Hungry. I sweep her into my arms, carry her through the kitchen and into my room, kissing her, tasting her, remembering her.