Fire, page 10
I want to tell him it’s not necessary, that we’ve taken advantage of him enough as it is, but Nell is his daughter, and this is the first chance he’s had to take care of her. What right do I have to tell him no?
“Can we, Mama?” She bounces off the bed, doing a funny little dance as she clasps her hands under her chin. “The man did say ice cream.”
Micah turns to me with an almost identical look of wicked excitement. “I did say ice cream.”
Seeing the two of them together is almost more than I can take. I always said Nell is just like her dad, but having it proved right in front of me brings tears to my eyes, warming my heart and making me regret every bad thing I’ve said about him. Thank goodness I never said any of it for Nell to hear.
“I don’t have anything to contribute…”
“Consider it a housewarming gift.”
“Says the man basically giving us his house.”
“Yeah.” Nell hits Micah with a look that says I wasn’t wrong to brace for her special brand of honesty. “You’re not scary like I thought you were. You’re funny. And nice.”
“You thought I was scary?” Micah’s shoulders sag and he sounds so heartbroken I want to hug him. But, given everything that’s going on, that’s probably a bad idea.
“The day you two met,” I explain, “you were a little…um…overwhelmed when you stepped into Mr. Doughtry’s office to make your very generous offer.”
Understanding blossoms in Micah’s eyes and his shoulders sag even more.
“I thought maybe you didn’t like me because I talk too much. Some grownups think that’s really annoying.” Nell cups a hand to her mouth and whispers, “Nurse Weathers, cough cough,” then hops back onto the bed.
“You thought I didn’t…?” Micah sighs and crouches to meet Nell eye to eye. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth, Miss Penelope Michaela Hut…” His gaze locks on mine with a heavy dose of ‘oh shit,’ but he wipes it away and replaces it with a smile. “I mean…Cole. Penelope Michaela Cole. I think you’re pretty freaking awesome.”
Nell’s eyes go wide. “That’s a bad word!”
Dumbfounded, Micah turns to me. “Freaking?” he mouths, and I nod.
“That’ll take some getting used to,” he mutters, before returning his attention to Nell. “You gotta help me settle something. When your mom was younger, she was all about butterscotch ice cream with extra chocolate chips and I, being the awesome person I am, am a strawberry fan. Where do you land on the ice cream scale?”
“Strawberry! Butterscotch is gis-dusting.” Nell hops off the bed and Micah holds out a hand for a high five, which she exuberantly gives, then pauses. “I didn’t know you knew my mommy when she was little.”
There’s a moment of charged eye contact between Micah and me. He didn’t just know me; he was my life. He was my reason for being. He gave me strength and encouraged me to chase my dream of becoming a psychologist while my dad tried to talk me out of it, listing all the reasons it wouldn’t work. Nell not knowing that feels like a failure on my part.
“We did,” he says cautiously. “Which means your mom’s pretty awesome too, even if she does like butterscotch ice cream.” He grimaces over Nell’s head, sending a hearty SOS my way.
“Why don’t you go explore while Micah shows me my room. And stay inside!” I add as her feet hit the stairs. “Don’t go near that pool without an adult!”
“’Kay, Mama!” Nell calls and we deposit my bag and cot into an office as sterile as his guest room, like he’s never bothered to come upstairs. There’s a desk. A laptop. Some bookshelves stocked with books he’s probably never read. I wanted to laugh when he told me he had an office. The Micah I knew would have preferred a weight set or a pool table or anything other than a place dedicated to quiet thought or studious work. But, I don’t know him as well as I used to and didn’t want to offend him, so I stayed silent last night rather than risk making him mad with the joke that sat on the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t like you sleeping on that cot,” he says, scowling into the room like it’s the reason I don’t have a bed.
“It’s fine.” Sleeping on the cot is ten times worse than the couch, but a thousand times better than living with Julian. “I’ve gotten used to it.”
Micah sets his jaw, and we head downstairs, where Nell’s peering out the window at the pool. “What should I call you, anyway?” she asks, skipping over to take his hand.
He sucks in his lips, obviously not prepared for the question. We should have talked about this last night, but everything is happening so fast. These are the things he shouldn’t be hit with out of the blue.
Chaos, Ivy, whispers Julian’s voice. All you’re good at is chaos.
Micah chews his bottom lip, pretending to think really hard. “The guys at work call me Tower, because I’m tall. I think your mom has called me Asshole once or twice.”
Nell’s eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth. “That’s another bad word. A real bad one.”
“That’s a good point. You probably shouldn’t say it. Why don’t you call me Micah until we come up with something better.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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.
