Chapter 24
Damien
I came inside her, and I loved every second. The way her pussy walls milked my cock was something I have never felt before. I am pretty sure I came twice. Instead of regretting it, I want an encore. At that moment in the shower, instead of withdrawing because I did not want another mistake, I thrust in deeper. It felt good. It felt right. A small part of me wanted to make her pregnant right then and there. I wonder if she noticed what happened because she said nothing about it as we put back our clothes and got out of the shower.
As we walk back to the house hand in hand while the sun sinks, I wonder if she has felt anything close to this odd and wonderful ecstasy I am having. Does she regret what we’ve just done? As we are about to reach the house, I feel the opportunity slipping, so I blurt out my thoughts.
“We didn’t use protection.”
“Don’t worry. I am on the pill.”
All of that ecstasy is washed away with that single statement. I should be happy, right? What man in my position would want to have more children with her? A demented one. Me. “That’s good. We wouldn’t want another mistake.”
I hear a choked gasp coming from her. “Do you think Lake was a mistake?”
“No. Not like that.” I whip my head to face her and instantly regret my words. Even in the waning sunlight, I can see that her eyes are glassy with tears. Fuck. “I mean that…” I try to scramble for the right words to say, “I don’t think you threw a party when you found out you were pregnant. I mean, you were in college for chrissake.”
She sighs. “No wonder you didn’t want him initially.” She increases her pace as though running away from me, but I catch up to her and stop her. “No. That’s not what happened at all. I told you, I didn’t know you were pregnant or had a child.” I try to think of a way of explaining myself without blaming Nicole, because I know she will hear it as an excuse. “If I had known…” Ivy tries to wriggle out of my grip, but I hold her firm. “If I had known, trust me Ivy, I would not have let you go. I would not have denied myself the opportunity to be with you.”
I feel her soften, but I’m too afraid to let her go. Now that I know the truth, it feels as though time is moving too fast and if I don’t tell her how I feel now, I might never have a chance of talking to her again. “You and I…” I take her other arm and hold her in a semi-embrace. “We are meant to be together. No matter what happens. Time and chance will always draw us onto the same stage. I didn’t know this before, but I know it now. And as for Lake, I would have done all that I could to be a good father to him had I known. I have a lot of time to compensate for and I will do my best to give all the time I couldn’t give him.”
“I don’t need your sweet nothings, Damien. If you’re ashamed of what we did just now, there’s no need to soften the blow. ‘Sex is all you’re good for.’ I haven’t forgotten. And honestly, I prefer that Damien. At least he was honest. Not this version you’re trying to pull off.”
I don’t know what else to say. My mind is still dwelling on the words I threw at her when I was angry and hurt. She still remembered them after all those years. Their intended effect was to hurt her and seems like it worked. She believed every single word and kept it to heart. My mind goes back to all the encounters we’ve had. Was she thinking about what I said then every time we had sex? She wriggles out of my hold and this time she’s successful. She practically runs to the house, leaving me with my thoughts.
Well, I fucked that one up pretty badly. This trip was meant for me to start over our relationship. I thought if I started by inviting her to my mother’s, she would see that I wanted to take our relationship seriously. That if I showed her I saw her as more than just a baby momma, she would see that I want more. More than sex. More than the awful polite purgatory we’ve put our relationship in.
But you ruined that by fucking her in an outdoor shower. Yeah. I was thinking only with my cock there. She looked so earthy when she was helping me in the garden. I couldn’t help but think about that time all those years ago. She looked like a seductive wood nymph then, and she looked like one now. The thought of fucking her against an apple tree consumed my thoughts the entire time we worked. And when we got to the barn, I wanted to plaster her against the walls and fuck her there. The shower was the compromise.
Sex is all you’re good for. That isn’t true, is it? She’s great at many things, but sex is all I think about when I am with her.
Dejected, I return to the house. I find Lake and Mom in the kitchen busy finishing packing some jars of applesauce for us to take home. The room smells of sugar and cinnamon, and I see three inverted toffee apples drying on a parchment. I wonder where Ivy is. If she’s crying in the bathroom or if she’s in the living room scrolling on her phone. The latter didn’t seem likely, as she would have joined these two if she had little else to do. I’m about to ask Lorna when she wanders back into the room with a fresh face. So it was the former. She had been crying and had gone to the bathroom to freshen up, so it wouldn’t be noticeable. What a fucking brute. You raised Lorna Sinclair.
“I made them for all of us!” Lake shouts, pointing at the toffee apples. He looks so proud of his accomplishment that one can’t help but smile. “Grandma helped me!”
Ivy beams as Lake dance excitedly. “Wow, I didn’t know you could make candy on your own,” she says.
“Grandma helped!”
Mom shakes her head. “When he found out how easy it was to make them, he had to try it.”
“And apple sauce!”
“You made the applesauce?” Ivy asks sounding impressed.
“I didn’t make it, make it. But I helped. Grandma said you can add it to a tart and serve it in your bakery.”
“I only meant it as a suggestion, and if your mother wants it.” Mom turns to Ivy. “I have plenty of jars and some of them are usually left over whenever I make the juice.
“Thank you,” Ivy says. “I’ll talk to my chef. She’s the one who’s usually above these things. She’s been thinking of changing the recipe, so she might like these.”
“Can I eat mine now?” Lake asks Ivy, his eyes on the toffee apples and with the most sullen begging face I’ve ever seen him do. Ivy doesn’t buy it. “Not until you eat your dinner, young man.” His face falls even further.
“Hey, don’t sulk,” Mom says. “Dinner is only a few minutes away.” She looks at me and says, “Help me out, will you?”
“I don’t mind too if you need another hand,” Ivy says.
“Me too!” Lake jumps, toffee apples forgotten, or at least temporarily.
Mom assigns us our tasks, except Lake, who gets the busboy duty of getting stuff from the fridge while Ivy and I are made to prepare the food. In no time, we are all in a comfortable state of cooking and talking as though we’ve been a family like this for a long time. It would all seem dandy if one doesn’t notice that Ivy and I are not talking directly to each other. Every time she speaks, she does it through either Lake or Mom. At least Mom doesn’t seem to see anything off about our interactions.
We finish making dinner and sit down at the dinner table to eat while some of my mom’s Bossa Nova records play in the background. I love the ambience it creates and Lake and Ivy seem to enjoy it too. When the main course dishes are sent to the kitchen, Mom comes back with an apple pie and ice cream, to the delight of Lake, who eats more than he should. After we’re done and the dishes are cleaned, we say our goodbyes, but not before Mom packs us the rest of the apple pie. Just as I was entering the car, she stopped me. “They’re good people.” She gestures at Lake and Ivy, arranging the goodies at the back seat of the car. “Don’t let them get away this time around.”
“I won’t.”
Mom brushes my hair like I am a school kid and I guess to her I’ll always be a school kid and bids me farewell. The ride back to the city is quiet and uncomfortable. My earlier conversation with Ivy plays in my head as Lake lightly snores in the back. I should have been more gentle with my strategy of winning her back. Dropping all of my feelings at once has not helped and it might have worsened things. Even the impromptu sex excursion might have hindered me, even though it felt good at the time. And since I can’t think of anything to say to her, I let the silence fester as we make our way back home.
When we get into the apartment, Ivy immediately puts Lake to sleep and before I can try to talk to her again, she disappears into the guest room and locks her door. I go to bed alone and sleep a dreamless sleep, my head filled with thoughts of how best I can right the ship. When I get up the following morning, Ivy’s already gone to work and since Lake is my responsibility today, I stay with him while he sleeps in. It’s the weekend and so I wonder why she felt the need to get to work so early. Especially on a Sunday when a few people are at work.
I voice this with Lake later as he’s eating his breakfast, and he simply says, “That’s because Sonya won an award, and people like her food a lot. Antoinette’s is full on Sunday.”
“Huh,” I say. “That explains very little, Lake.”
Lake sighs. “They come for Sonya’s Sunday special. She has a special she only does on Sunday and everyone comes there to have it because it’s so good. You’d like it too if you tried it.”
Suddenly an idea strikes in my head. “Wanna go? Maybe we could help her.”Lake’s eyes brighten. I laugh. “Is food all you ever think about?”
Lake frowns, as though the question is silly. “Of course. Nothing else is better.”
I wait for Lake to finish his breakfast, which he makes quick work of, and a few minutes later we are in the car and some more after that, we’re at the shop. And he’s right. The place is packed. There’s a line that goes all the way around the block. One would think they’re selling limited-edition sneakers or something like that.
We go inside and the place is even more chaotic than I thought. There are two baristas making orders, one person at the cashier, and Ivy taking orders. She’s in the thick of things, working at a breakneck pace that is matched by her staff. One doesn’t need to know about their staffing situation to tell that they’re overwhelmed. And it’s still morning! Ivy spots me immediately, frowns, and turns her attention to a customer.
I am mesmerized as I watch her work. To think that this is the same spoiled rich girl I used to know. Or maybe I didn’t know her at all. She works fast and diligently, as though she’s in one mode and will not be distracted. One of the baristas opens the counter door and Lake breaks out of my hold and rushes over to her mother. She smiles and glances at me. I go to her.
“I had no idea you were this successful.”
She’s writing an order down and doesn’t take her attention off it one bit. “What? Surprised this is not some cute project to me?”
In a way, yeah, and I am too embarrassed to admit it. “Is it always like this?”
She ignores me as she takes an order, but then later responds. “Not like this. We went viral. An influencer came by last Sunday and praised our custard croiclair.”
“Croiclair?”
“It’s a croissant, and an eclair mushed together into a new dish. It’s a hit.”
“Need any help? You look swamped,” I say.
From the wince on her face, Ivy is about to voice a negative when a woman bursts through the kitchen doors. There’s a chin of flour on her blue apron, but otherwise, her chef’s uniform is clean. She whistles when she sees the number of people. “Yes, we would love all the help we can get if you’re offering.”
“Sonya!”
“You look like you could use some? I don’t think it’s that far-fetched to ask your husband to work for a minute, especially when he’s part of the reason we’re in this situation?”
I cock an eyebrow at Sonya. “How am I the cause?”
Ivy replies. “The influencer came here because she heard about our wedding and wanted to check out ‘if I was for real or not.’ Her words.”
“And she swallowed those words on her first bite of the croiclair.” Sonya cackles.
“So you definitely need my help,” I say.
Ivy sighs. “Damien.”
“You can work in the kitchen,” Sonya cuts in. “Our busboy has gone to buy some extra ingredients and we could use a couple of capable hands.”