Page 121 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

Introductions with Brey went much smoother, and they spent almost twenty minutes talking about online games and ways to turn streaming into a part-time job. Adrian knew a few people who had done it while taking classes, and he gave Brey a list of websites to check out.

Then he noticed the series of manga books that had been his favorite pastime as a kid.

“Hey, Iv. You ever read these?” he asked, picking up the first volume.

“Finally, someone who appreciates greatness,” Brey gloated.

Ivory groaned. “Don’t get him started. I’ve heard enough to know there’s no way I’m reading all twenty-seven volumes.”

“We could watch the animated version,” he suggested. “You’d like it.”

She scrunched her nose, the side of her face lit with blue LEDs. “You sure?”

“I guarantee it.”

“Come on, sis,” Brey chimed in with a smug look. “After all these years, you gotta give it a chance.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll try the first few episodes. Everyone happy now?”

Brey pumped his fist in the air, spinning in his chair. “Victory at last!”

“This isn’t fair,” Ivory mumbled. “You’re already teaming up against me.”

“It’s for your own good,” Adrian chuckled and pulled her under his arm. “When do I get to see your room?” She’d relaxed since their interaction with her mom, but her energy still felt lower than usual, so he wanted to check in. And steal a few kisses while he was at it.

“Oh, right. It’s upstairs.” She pivoted towards the door and said goodbye to Brey. “Guess we’ll see you at dinner. Do me a favor and try not to bug Mom before then, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brey replied while reaching for his headphones. “I’m holding you to this, though. It’s finally time you owed me a movie night.”

Ivory rolled her eyes, and as they stepped into the hall, Adrian pinched her side. She jumped out of the doorway with a squeal. “Hey!”

Her pout only reinforced his smile. “You know I’d never turn down a movie marathon when it means I get to cuddle you all night.”

She bit her lip and guided him to the staircase. “You make a tough argument, sir.”

He shook his head. The tough part would be making sure that cuddling was all they did.

SIXTY

Along the way to her bedroom, Ivory pointed out the less important doors: office, closet, bathroom, upstairs bathroom, her parents’ room. The house felt spacious, with modern decor and minimal furniture. Nothing had been left out of place. Compared to where he’d grown up, it felt like a mansion.

They reached the last door, and Ivory pushed it open to reveal purple walls covered in movie posters. A desk sat in the corner under a small window, while in the back, a row of shelves were lined with cute stuffed animals. Entering her childhood room somehow made him nostalgic, though he had no memories here. Ivory’s life was woven into every detail—from the blankets on her bed to the stars on the ceiling—and he wanted to experience every part of it.

Ivory discarded her backpack on the desk next to a pile of books and opened the curtains. Then collapsed on her bed. “Well, we survived so far,” she mumbled, grabbing a pillow with a deep sigh.

He closed the door and laid down next to her, tucking her against his side. It’d only been half a day, but he already missed her body curled with his. “We haven’t even gotten to the baby photos yet,” he teased.

She groaned and hid her face, then propped herself up on her elbows. “Wait. I do have all my old yearbooks. It’ll be a little less painful if you see my awkward middle school photos without everyone else around.”

“Sounds fun,” he agreed. “Although…” He pulled her towards him and nuzzled her neck. “I’m a little busy at the moment.” A strangled sound escaped her lips as he found her sweet spot and pressed her into the sheets, which smelled like fabric softener and her shampoo.

“It would be rude to interrupt,” she mumbled.

Satisfied only when the last traces of tension left her muscles, and she transformed into a gooey mess of smiles and sweet giggles, he leaned back and tucked a pillow under his head. “All right, I’m ready.”

Several yearbooks and a few hours later, they headed downstairs for dinner. A colorful salad sat on the table, and a hot skillet crackled on the stove. Mrs. Monroe bustled about the kitchen with her hair tied in a messy bun.

She reminded him so much of Ivory for a moment that he couldn’t suppress a small smile. Maybe one day, they’d have a home like this. Minus the part about their kids dating. His daughter would have to be at least fifty years old before she got a boyfriend.

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