Page 56 of Salvation
Ivy jerks her head up. Her lip slips between her teeth, and she chews on it as if she’s only just realizing what she’d been doing.
When she’s looking at me, I give an exaggerated raise of my shoulders and say, “Breathe.” She does as I ask, pulling in a breath and slowly releasing it. When I’m sure she’s not going to start in again with her rant, I start talking. “Once upon a time, I knew everything about you, Ivy, and I know you well enough to know that you’re upset about what I said. But just because I think things would have been different, doesn’t mean I regret you or our daughter. I could never regret you, sunshine.”
Leaning forward, I press a lingering kiss against her temple. Sweet. Innocent. Or at least it should be, but nothing I feel about Ivy has ever felt innocent. So even though her eyes fall closed, I pull away, doing the right thing even though I don’t want to.
Chapter 27
Ivy
“So, John, you’re a lawyer, right?”
The Bryants arrived half an hour ago, and after a tour of the house I grew up in at Willow’s insistence, we are all gathered around the dining room table that’s only ever witnessed meals eaten in silence. My grandparents always insisted on formal dinners in our home, in which I wore dresses that itched and shoes that were too tight on my feet. Those meals were accompanied by a side of disdain and the bitter wish that we could be a family that genuinely cared about each other. So hearing Campbell’s voice pierce the silence now startles me.
Looking up, I study his side profile as he waits for John’s answer. The strong line of his jaw. The stubble that covers it. Everything about him is masculine. Strong. And it does stupid things to my heart.
“I could never regret you, sunshine.”
Those words echo through my mind on a loop, and no matter how many times I try to push them away, they just keep playing. They haunt me, right along with the way Campbell’s fingers brushed over my lower back when we were dancing. I don’t know why I agreed to it—a momentary lapse in my sanity, I guess.
“Yes,” John answers, the strain in his voice undeniable.
Another silence descends, and I look back at my plate, pushing my food around as I try to figure out what to say. I spent the week having conversations in my head, planning them out, but now, words feel inadequate.
Jackie clears her throat. “Ivy, what do you do for work?”
She’s sitting directly opposite me at the table. Willow is sitting beside her, texting someone on her phone, but she looks up when Jackie voices her question, eyes landing directly on me.
“I—um—I paint actually.”
“Must pay well,” Kolton says from where he sits beside his dad. “This place is massive.”
“Kolton,” Jackie chides, but he shrugs.
“What?” he asks innocently. “It is.”
My lips pull up into a strained smile. “This place is my grandparents. I inherited it when they passed away. But to answer your question, yes, painting does pay pretty well for me.”
Kolton laughs, shoving food into his mouth and pointing a fork at his dad. “And to think, Dad, you told Willow she’d be broke if she studied art in school. Guess you were wrong.”
I look at Willow, ignoring the way John is glaring at his son. “You’re an artist?”
Willow shrugs. “Yeah.”
“What kind of art?”
“Painting.” Willow’s answer is flat, like she’s reluctant to tell me, and I sink a little lower in my seat, feeling stupid for asking.
Kolton snorts, and Willow shoots him a warning glare, a conversation passing between the two.
“What type of painting do you do, Ivy?” Jackie asks, interrupting the stare down between the two siblings.
“Classical mostly, but I’m working on a mural for the new community building here in town. It’s a little different than what I’m used to.”
Willow perks up. “So you’re gettingpaidto paint on a building?”
I force my face to remain neutral, afraid that if I react too quickly to her interest, she’ll spook.
“Kind of. They offered to pay, but I’m doing it pro bono. It’s something I feel pretty passionate about.”
