Page 32 of The Parent Pick-Up
I take a quick shower, shave, and dress in Ivy’s favorite green shirt and dark jeans. Splashing on some cologne, I give myself a quick pep talk.
It’s been a long time since I put myself out there for a woman, and it feels like being torn apart to risk everything. But if Ivy is the right woman, it will all be worth it.
I check on Hannah before I slip out of the house. She is fast asleep, hair spread across her pillow like a mermaid. I tuck the blanket securely around her, my heart tight with gratitude for my little girl.
Emily and I may not have been a good match, but we made something beautiful together.
The street is quiet when I step outside. The sun has barely poked over the horizon, and birdsong fills the treetops.
My heart flutters in my chest and I feel like I’m floating on air. The walk across my yard feels like a countdown to the beginning of a new chapter in my life. A new era of hope.
Only a few more minutes until I can touch her, kiss her, hear that snort-laugh that makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.
As I cross the street on my way to Ivy’s house, I notice cars lining the street in front of her driveway. It reminds me of the first time we met, when a cop car had been in her driveway.
What’s going on now?
It doesn’t take long to find out.
People stand on her front lawn, clutching cameras, cups of cheap coffee, microphones.
Reporters. Paparazzi.
My gut knots and I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over her name. I hate to be the one to tell Ivy she’s got reporters lurking on her curb like a swarm of cockroaches, but I don’t want her being ambushed.
I call, but it goes straight to voicemail. Hanging up, I don’t bother with a message.
There’s no choice but to walk through the crowd of reporters and tell Ivy the danger waiting outside her door. My plan to confess my love will have to wait until after this crisis, as I’m sure Ivy will be distraught to find out her hideaway has been blown wide open.
This is all because of the talent show. If she wouldn’t have performed with Hannah, her secret may have stayed safe.
I step off the street onto her driveway, and a woman spots me right away. She chases after me with her microphone, shouting questions.
Ivy’s newly installed fence and gate make it impossible for the intruders to follow me, but they aren’t shy about demanding answers from outside the property line.
“Are you the boyfriend? Can you comment on the rumors about Ivy and her ex?”
Heat rises up my face. Even if I wanted to give her the answers, I don’t have them. I know next-to-nothing about the ex—only that he didn’t care to be a father.
I consider turning around and going home, saving my confession for later, but since Ivy isn’t answering her phone, I feel obligated to warn her in person.
Ducking around the side of the house, I go to the back door where we won’t be visible from the street.
I knock on her door and wait, hoping she hasn’t looked out the front window yet and seen the disaster waiting for her. The speech I’d planned to confess my love will have to wait. First, I have to break the bad news about the paparazzi camped out on the street.
The door swings open. But it’s not Ivy.
It’s a man.
Barefoot. Wet hair drips onto his forehead like he just stepped out of her shower. There’s a tattoo curling over his bicep, disappearing under his shirt sleeve.
“What do you want?” he asks.
My mouth goes dry. “Where’s Ivy?”
He cocks an eyebrow, so casual it makes my chest burn. “Who are you? Not a reporter or you wouldn’t be at the back door.”
“Just tell her Owen is here.” I try to look over his shoulder, but he blocks me.
