Page 65 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
I nodded, understanding the subtext. Bill didn't want me in his house, and I couldn't blame him for that. "I'll wait outside."
Barbara disappeared into the house, and I walked back to my car. The passenger door opened five minutes later, and Ivy slid into the seat beside me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her shoulders tense with exhaustion.
"You've been crying."
She didn't deny it. "Dad hasn't spoken to me since yesterday. He barely looks at me."
"I'm sorry."
"He wants me to find another place to live. Says he can't look at you without seeing betrayal, and having me here is a constant reminder." Her voice caught. "I don't know what to do. Mom needs help, but I can't stay where I'm not wanted."
I gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep my voice steady. "Come stay with me."
"Duncan—"
"I have plenty of room. A guest wing with its own entrance. The kids would each have their own bedroom."
She shook her head. "I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I won't move in with you out of obligation. Because you feel guilty or responsible or whatever it is you're feeling right now."
I turned to face her fully, studying the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she held herself apart even in the small space of the car. "Look at me."
She met my eyes reluctantly.
"There's no obligation in my offer. None."
"Then why?"
I could have given her a dozen practical reasons—the children needed stability, she needed support, it made financial sense. But the truth was simpler and more complicated than any of those things.
"Because I want you there."
She stared at me for a long moment, searching my face for something I wasn't sure I could give her. Finally, she nodded. She opened the car door, then paused. "Will you wait while I get the kids ready? If we're going to do this, I'd rather not drag it out."
"Of course."
I watched her walk back to the house, her shoulders straight despite everything that had happened. Through the front window, I could see Bill's silhouette in the living room, but he didn't turn toward the car. He wouldn't look at me, wouldn't acknowledge my presence even though we both knew I was there.
I stayed in the car, engine running, waiting for Ivy to emerge with the children who were mine but didn't know it yet and I wondered if this was what redemption looked like—not the grand gesture I'd imagined, but this quiet moment of choosing to stay when everything else was falling apart.
Part of me still expected someone to come storming out and tell me to leave—that I wasn’t welcome, that I’d forfeited my right to be part of this family the moment I broke my promise to Bill. And maybe I had. I couldn’t take back what I’d done or undo the years Ivy had spent alone raising our children. But I was here now, trying. Trying to be better. Trying to be present. Trying to prove that one mistake, no matter how damaging, didn’t have to be the end of the story. Whether Ivy believed that, whether her parents ever could, I didn’t know. But for the first time in a long time, I wanted to find out.
27
IVY
Duncan carried two suitcases through the front door while I guided the triplets into his house. The space felt enormous after the cramped quarters we'd been living in—vaulted ceilings, gleaming hardwood floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in streams of afternoon light. Everything was pristine, organized, and quiet.
The quiet lasted approximately thirty seconds.
"Wow," Elena breathed, her voice echoing off the walls. "This is so big."
Chrissy immediately ran toward the living room, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. Sammy followed, both of them drawn to the massive sectional sofa that dominated the space.
"Careful," I called after them, but Duncan shook his head.
