Page 31 of Moonlight & Matrimony
Luca: Definitely not ??
Luca: I’m betting you’re a starfish.
Ivy: Maybe.
Tuesday, August 5th, 10:35pm
Luca: Favorite season.
Ivy: Fall, obviously. It’s the superior choice in every way.
Luca: Winter is so much better. Snowmen, Christmas, Hockey.
Ivy: I have some bad news for you, my friend. Oak Ridge doesn’t have a rink and we rarely get snow.
Luca: Fuck.
“Hi Luca!” Rylin’s cheerful voice calls from her favorite spot on the swing.
“Hey Bug, what are you doing out here?” I take my usual seat on the stump nearby. “Where’s mommy?”
“Right here,” Ivy says, coming up beside me, placing her soft hand on my shoulder. “I was just bringing in some boxes I picked up at the grocery store so I could start packing.”
There’s no excitement in her voice when she talks about moving in with me, and somehow, that stings. I know it shouldn’t bother me. It’s understandable if she’s feeling unsettled — she’s being uprooted, even if it is less than thirty feet to the right.
“Do you need some help?” I ask, hoping a show of support will help ease the transition.
“I’ve got it covered, but thanks.”
“How about dinner? I was about to order pizza. There’s a Hawaiian with your name on it.”
“You sure know a way to a girl's heart, Mr. Roberts.”
“Just yours, Mrs. Roberts.” The name trips off my tongue in the most natural way, and shockingly, it doesn’t feel wrong.
A teasing smile plays on her lips. “Are you flirting with me?” she asks.
“It’s about time you noticed.”
Her expression shifts and she glances at Rylin, still swinging blissfully, ignorant of the tension as the lightness between us dims. I take a breath, sensing the distance creeping in. “We should put a bench here,” I suggest, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever soured her mood.
“Yeah, that would be great,” she agrees, picking at her thumbnail. It’s a nervous gesture I picked up on fairly quickly.
I push off the stump, motioning for her to join me inside. “Come on, let’s order dinner. Does Rylin like pizza?”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling as she stares over at the tree swing. “She picks off the pineapple and feeds the crust to the dog when she thinks I’m not looking.”
“Come on, little one,” I call across the yard. “Let’s get some food into your tummy.”
“Okay,” Rylin says, jumping down off the swing before she runs into my outstretched arms. I toss her in the air, then secure her around my shoulders in a piggy back hold as I guide them up the porch steps to what will soon be their home.
An hour later, we’re set up in the living room, our pizza boxes spread out on the coffee table beside a plate littered with chunks of pineapple and discarded pizza crust. Ivy and I are indulging in our second helping while Rylin quietly plays on her tablet, her eyelids growing heavy.
“Ok, your turn. Tell me about your first kiss,” I say, continuing our back and forth of getting to know each other. We’ve kept things pretty tame so far, but I’m itching to know more. She is my wife, after all.
Her face scrunches, and she tosses her crust onto the plate. It seems Rylin isn’t the only one with that particular quirk. “Adam Carver in the 6th grade. It was like kissing a cold fish. I swear he was trying to eat my face.”
I chuckle. “Poor Adam. It’s probably the biggest regret of his life. Ivy Roberts — the one that got away.”
