Page 102 of Moonlight & Matrimony
Ivy snorts, her shoulder bumping into me as we follow closely behind Rylin. When her hand brushes mine inside the soft wool mittens, I can’t help but take it in my much larger palm, continuing down the path hand in hand.
“Look!” Rylin says, pointing to a short but very full balsam fir. She jumps up and down on the spot, impatiently waiting for her mom and me to approach and give our seal of approval. What she doesn’t realize is she could have picked the ugliest tree in the lot and we would still be taking it home with us.
“It’s perfect, Bug.” I smile down at the little girl who stole my heart all those months ago, taking in the unfettered joy on her face. A sudden rush of emotion hits me square in the chest. She’s come so far in such a short amount of time. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see that expression again or hear the sound of her sweet voice. I release Ivy’s hand, scooping Ry into my arms as I twirlher in a circle. “You did so good. Let’s go find someone to help us load it up.”
An hour later, we’re back in our living room, the earthy evergreen smell surrounding us as I secure the tree to its base. Rylin is cuddled up under a blanket on the sofa with a sippy cup of chocolate milk and a Christmas movie playing on the flat screen tv. Standing and brushing my hands over my jeans, I watch as Ivy walks into the room with a huge box labeled ‘X-Mas Decor’.
“Hopefully the lights still work,” she says. “We spent Christmas between the cabin and the ranch last year so we haven’t put up our own tree since… nevermind.” She shakes herself out of whatever memory was haunting her and sets the box down on the coffee table. I walk over to where she’s standing and wrap her in my arms, placing a soft kiss on her hair. She breathes deeply and relaxes into my hold. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“Anytime, beautiful.”
After I’ve managed to convince myself to pull away from her, we set to work untangling the colorful mini lights, working in tandem to drape them around the tree.
“Ok, Ry. Now it’s your time to shine!” Ivy says, holding up a box of mismatched ornaments — some clearly handmade.
“Yes!” she says, throwing off the blanket and leaping to her feet.
I reach into the box and pull out a tiny handprint set in clay, painted to look like Santa, with the words “Rylin, Age 18 months” stamped along the edge. It has a genuine sense of longing stirring my gut. What I wouldn’t give to have known them then.
If it wasn’t already clear what an amazing mom Ivy is, this box would convince me. It’s filled with memories of a little Rylin. To think that any man wouldn’t want to be a part of this is trulyincomprehensible. My mind strays to thoughts of a family with Ivy, our child growing in her belly as we decorate a Christmas tree with more precious memories; Rylin as a big sister, teaching her sibling how to press their tiny hand into the clay.
“Luca?” Ivy’s voice brings me back to the present, her hand paused with a construction paper reindeer near the top of the tree.
“What? Sorry. I missed what you said.”
“I asked if you wanted to do pizza for dinner.”
“Sounds great,” I say, swiping at my phone to place the order.
“It’s beautiful,” Ivy whispers. The Christmas tree casts a colorful glow around the room; red, green, blue, and gold hues reflecting off every surface. The tree is a chaotic mess of decorations, mainly concentrated along the bottom half of the tree, and it couldn’t possibly be any more perfect.
Cuddled up on the sofa with my girls, Rylin is fast asleep with her head on Ivy’s lap. She drifted off somewhere between the fourth round of jingle bells and the second rendition of White Christmas. Ivy is nestled into my side, her head resting on my chest as she strokes her fingers along the delicate curls splayed across her thigh.
“She reminds me so much of Paige at that age.” I don’t know what prompts my admission, but something about this night makes me want to open myself up and lay bare all of my insecurities.
“Yeah?” Ivy glances up at me through her lashes, her glasses long discarded on the table, giving me a stunning view of the swirling shades of green, brown, and gold. I swallow thickly.
“Mmhmm. Not just the wild curls, though there is that. It’s her spirit,” I say, a slight hitch in my voice. “Paige wasn’t always so introverted. She was a very energetic little girl, but over time, her brilliance was slowly stripped away — bit by bit. I was too caught up in my own issues with our parents to realize it until it was too late. Yet another one of my failings as a big brother.”
“You were a child, too, baby. It wasn’t your job to keep the family intact.”
Her words grip me like a vice, squeezing my heart. “Yeah, it’s just hard to reconcile my role in everything she had to cope with.”
“She’s okay, Luca.” Her gaze softens as she looks up at me, and I can’t tell if we’re talking about Paige or Rylin anymore. “She survived. Weallsurvived.” The last words get stuck in her throat, a tear tracking along her cheek. I gently swipe it away, replacing it with my lips, and I don’t miss the slight hitch in her breath at my touch.
Determined to steer the conversation into safer waters, I change the subject. “If you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?”
“Anything?” she asks.
“Anything at all. No limitations.”
“I think I already have it,” she whispers.
Me too.
Fully expecting to wake up to an empty bed, I’m taken aback when I open my eyes to see a pair of brilliant blues staring back at me.
“Merry Christmas!” Rylin’s enthusiastic voice cuts through the silence of the room just as footsteps sound down the hall. Ivy and I were up late playing Santa, and while I wanted nothing more than to ask her to come to bed with me, I knew the timing wasn’t quite right so we went our separate ways at the top of the stairs, resisting every inclination to pull her into me.
