Page 88 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
The call ends. I set the phone down, my palm staying there a moment longer, like I’m holding the weight of the conversation in my hand.
“Jack?” Ivy’s voice is low, threaded with concern.
I turn back. She’s propped against the headboard, the sheet gathered to her chest, hair a beautiful ruin. Her eyes are steady, but I can see the shift in her, the quiet recalculation.
“We’re going to have company,” I say. “Soon.”
Her brow knits. “Company?”
“My daughter.” The words land heavier than I expect. “She’s coming to live with us.”
Her breath catches. “Your daughter… from before?”
I nod. “Claire passed away. Emma’s fifteen. I knew her when she was little. Then Claire wanted distance. My father handled the arrangement. I stayed out of the way.”
Her hand finds mine, thumb tracing slow, grounding lines over my skin. “Jack…”
“I thought it was best for her. No fights. No drama. Stability.” My eyes flick to the dresser where her wedding notes lie, the pen angled mid-page like the thought it held was abandoned. “Now she’s coming here, into the middle of everything.”
“Then we make it work,” she says, simple as a fact. “We’ll figure it out together.”
We. The word steadies me.
“She’s coming in a week. Maybe less. I’ll get a room ready.”
A faint smile touches her lips. “She has a lot to take in. New country. New home. New…” …her voice softens…“…stepmother.”
Something in me roots deeper. “Yeah. That too.”
She leans her forehead to mine, and my shoulders drop a fraction. The morning is different now, but the bed is still warm, and her hand is still on me.
“We’re still fighting Derek,” I say. “Santiago’s closing in on the mole. Now Emma’s coming. That’s three fronts.”
Her thumb presses once, firm. “Then we hold the line. One step at a time. And when she gets here, we make sure she knows she’s wanted.”
I nod once, but my eyes slide to the far end of the apartment, the spare bedroom.
Ivy follows my gaze, and her smile turns thoughtful. “I’m already picturing it,” she says quietly. “Fresh paint. Light curtains. A desk by the window.”
Her hand tightens around mine. “She’ll know she’s home.”
Outside, the city presses against the glass, impatient. Inside, with her hand locked in mine, I believe we can meet it head-on.
43
IVY
The air in the apartment still feels like the remnants of our morning, warm skin, his cologne, the faint tang of toasted bread from breakfast. It should feel exactly the same as it did an hour ago, when I was wrapped around Jack and the only thing on my mind was how easily the world disappears when he’s this close. But now, the space feels layered with something heavier, change coming fast, the kind you can’t unring once it’s in motion.
Jack is at the kitchen counter, laptop open, shoulders squared in that way that tells me he’s not just working, he’s bracing. His attention is locked on the screen, his coffee cooling at his elbow. I know better than to interrupt when he’s in this mode, but I also know if I leave him in it too long, he’ll forget the rest of the day exists.
I curl my fingers around my phone and slip toward the bedroom, settling into the chair by the window. My thumb hovers before tapping Sienna’s name. She picks up on the second ring.
“Morning,” she says. “Why do you sound like someone who just had sex and is about to confess something?”
“Because I did, and I am,” I answer. “Also… I’m a mom now.”
There’s a beat of silence, then an incredulous, “Oh my God. You’re pregnant?”
