Ty: You make it sound like a custody agreement.
Indie: It’s not exactly like that but I suppose that’s how we’ll handle this. Bye.
Chapter Thirty-One
Indigo
So much for keeping my distance from Ty—at least until tomorrow, or better yet, forever, if I could convince one of my sisters to watch Myra until I find a suitable nanny.
“What now, Tyberius?” I sigh, conflicted by so many emotions swirling within me as I open the front door.
Ty’s apologetic smile greets me. He holds out a paper cup, the aroma of lavender and chamomile tea filling the air between us. “Here’s some tea, beautiful. I came by hoping you had time to help me with Myra’s party.” His words are hesitant, almost shy.
I face-palm mentally, a wave of regret washing over me. “I forgot,” I admit, though it’s more like I hadn’t let myself think much about him or Myra with everything else going on between Ty and me.
Ty’s face falls, worry creasing his handsome features. “I didn’t exactly forget, but time has just slipped away, and here we are, two weeks away with nothing planned.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in his tense shoulders.
I slide my phone from my back pocket, fingers flying over the screen to access his calendar. “The fifteenth is a Friday, and you have a game. Which means . . .” I trail off, calculations running through my mind. “We need to organize the party on the sixteenth. We can get her balloons and special cupcakes for the morning of her birthday—maybe ask the teacher if she can bring a special treat to class.”
I look up to find Ty staring at me helplessly, eyes wide. He drags both hands down his face with a groan. “That’s a lot of information.” His shoulders slump in defeat. “As I said, we never celebrated that much and I’ve never done that much in so little time. Do you think it’s doable?”
“Of course,” I reply confidently, smiling in what I hope is a reassuring way. Reaching out, I squeeze his forearm gently. A spark of awareness zings up my arm at the contact and I drop my hand quickly, pulse racing.
Ty blinks in surprise, a slight catch in his breath, before visibly collecting himself. “And what about the party itself?”
I tap my chin thoughtfully, ideas spinning through my mind. “We could do it in your backyard, invite a few of her friends. Make it a unicorn-themed party, or . . .” I trail off. “My sisters and I can brainstorm something after a trip to the party store. Though, Teddy can get all of that done and more in a day—at a price, of course.”
“Anything for Myra,” Ty says. “This is her first big party and I want it to be memorable.”
“Then it will be,” I assure him. “Let’s go to my kitchen. We can start up my laptop and figure out what themes there are. Then, we’ll call my cousin.”
Just as we’re about to move, his phone rings loudly. Ty lets out a long, frustrated groan, scrubbing a hand over his face.
I raise my eyebrows curiously. “Who is it?”
“My mother,” he spits through gritted teeth, shoulders tensing. He glares at the phone display as if it has personally offended him. “She’s been calling all morning, and honestly, I don’t have time for her drama right now.” His jaw tenses, frustration etched in the strained lines around his mouth.
“And we don’t want her to call because . . .?”
He shakes his head, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “Leave it, okay.”
I lift one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Sure, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” I offer him a small, supportive smile.
“So we’re back to being friends,” he says, voice dipping an octave lower, a hint of suggestion in his warm green eyes.
I scoff softly, cheeks heating as I break his gaze. Honestly, I don’t know how to respond to his flirtatious words. My pulse skips and stutters, conflicting emotions rising within me.
He takes a step closer, the clean scent of his skin wrapping around me. “We had an agreement and suddenly you shut me down,” he states, watching me intently. “What was that about?”
I wet my lips nervously. “Things got too . . . Too intense, too fast,” I respond weakly and then immediately regret the admission.
Ty narrows his eyes, searching my face. “Is that so? And you couldn’t tell your friend?” His words hold a note of gentle chastisement. “I could’ve dialed things down. If this is going to work, darling, you have to communicate.”
I drop my gaze, shame and anxiety swirling sickly inside me. But that’s the thing—I don’t know if I want this to work. I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud, fearful he’ll see me as just a stupid, fickle child. I suck my lower lip between my teeth, heart pounding as I feel myself regressing emotionally.
My breath comes shorter, a vise squeezing my chest. I struggle to control the panicky gasps threatening to burst free, not wanting to completely lose it in front of Ty. But I can feel my rigid composure cracking, fears and doubts assailing me.
Sensing my distress, Rigby pads over and nudges my hand with his cold, wet nose. I cling to his fur like a lifeline as Ty waits patiently for my response. But still my lungs constrict, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.