Page 40 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
"You're twenty-four, Ivy. You don't need his permission."
"It's not about permission. It's about…" I trailed off, unable to explain that it wasn't my father I was worried about disappointing tonight.
Duncan walked me to my car, his hand resting on the small of my back. The contact sent warmth spreading through my entire body.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked as I opened the driver's door.
"At work, yes."
"I meant like this. Away from the office."
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say yes, wanted to plan another evening stolen from real life. But the rational part, the part that had kept me and my children safe for three years, knew better.
"I need time to think."
He nodded, disappointment flickering across his features. "Of course. No pressure."
I started the engine, rolling down the window as he stepped back from the car.
"Duncan?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For being patient."
"Thank you for coming."
I drove home through empty streets, my lips still tingling from his kisses. The house was dark when I arrived, everyone asleep. I parked down the street so the engine wouldn't wake anyone, then slipped inside through the front door.
My father had left the porch light on for me. A small kindness that made my chest tight with guilt.
I climbed the stairs quietly, checking on each of the triplets before going to my own room where
I thought about Duncan's hands on my face, about the way he'd asked permission before kissing me. About his admission that he'd been thinking of me for all this time.
What would he think when he learned about them? Would he be angry that I'd kept them from him? Would he try to take them away? Would he disappear entirely, unable to handle the responsibility he'd never asked for?
Or would he look at them the way he'd looked at me tonight—as if they were something precious, something worth fighting for?
I didn't know. That was the problem. I'd spent so long protecting them from uncertainty that I'd created a different kind of uncertainty instead.
I changed into pajamas and lay awake staring at the ceiling. My phone sat silent on the nightstand, but I kept glancing at it, wondering if Duncan was doing the same thing. Wondering if he was questioning tonight as much as I was.
The smart thing would be to end this before it went any further. To tell him tomorrow that we'd made a mistake, that we needed to keep things professional. To protect my children from the chaos that would inevitably follow if the truth came out.
But as I finally drifted off to sleep near dawn, it wasn't the smart choice I was thinking about.
It was the way Duncan had said my name. The way he'd held my hand as if it were something he'd been looking for his entire life.
The way he'd asked if I wanted there to be a "this" to define, and how desperately I wanted to say yes.
16
DUNCAN
Iarrived at the office forty minutes early, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was how I kept glancing toward the elevator bank, waiting for auburn hair and hazel eyes to appear. I told myself it was professional concern—I had reports to review, meetings to schedule. But every time the elevator doors opened, my pulse quickened.
By nine-thirty, Ivy still hadn't arrived. I checked my watch, then checked it again five minutes later. She was never late. In the month since she'd started, she'd been punctual to the point of arriving ten minutes early every morning.
