Page 95 of Resisting Isaac
My stomach tightens.
“Ivy—”
“We’ve been trying to conceive,” she says quietly. “For months. Nothing’s wrong, exactly. But nothing’s happening either. And I know I shouldn’t complain. I already have a life most women would kill for. But this? This is the one thing I want more than anything. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s just not in the cards for me.”
The confession is so honest, so heartbreakingly raw, it guts me.
And I can’t tell her.
Not now.
Not when Isaac and I did something completely on accident that she’s trying very hard to make happen on purpose.
I hand her a Kleenex from a nearby box. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s the stress of the show. Sometimes that can be an issue,” I offer, not having a damn clue what I’m talking about.
She blows her nose loudly.
I wave it off when she apologizes.
This is why I don’t spend time with many people. I’m not good at it.
Comfort is not my specialty. Sarcastic comments I can manage. And if you need to egg your asshole ex’s house, I have an excellent throwing arm. But this, the emotions, the tears, I’m bad at it.
So I pivot.
“I don’t want to cause you any additional stress. I just wanted to ask if I could go home for the weekend,” I say softly. “My dad’s birthday was last weekend, and I missed it.”
Along with my last two periods.
Ivy blinks, nods. “Oh gosh, Elena. Of course. You mentioned at your audition that he’s chronically ill.”
“Yeah, his kidneys are failing,” I say. “He opted to go off dialysis and just live out what time he has. He’s hanging in there, but he’s tired all the time. And he can’t travel.” He can barely manage his daily walk to the mailbox.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “God, I’m so sorry. Here I am wallowing in my own misery, crying all over you when you’ve got enough to deal with.”
She doesn’t know half of it. But she’s so kind, if I was a hugger, I’d hug her.
“Go see him. Take extra days if you need next week. I’ll talk to the producers. We’ll make it work.”
“Thank you. The weekend will be fine,” I assure her, knowing I’ll probably be completely disowned within an hour of walking through the door. Before I can say anything more, the back door creaks open and Wyatt walks in. He crosses the kitchen, wraps his arms around his wife, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey angel, you want to go get coffee at our place? Some pastries? All the pastries?”
My frozen heart melts a little.They have a place. He buys her all the pastries.
I watch them for a second too long.
Ivy gestures toward the cupcakes. “Elena brought me cupcakes. And she didn’t even know I was in here moping.”
Wyatt nods to me in greeting. “I can run out and grab you both a coffee, one of those fancy latte-macchiato-Ariana-Grande-whatever it’s called.”
I laugh. I didn’t know this brother could be funny. I thought that was solely Isaac’s thing. But I see it, the way he’s trying so desperately to cheer up his disappointed wife. And I’m intruding on their time.
“I should go get packed, but thank you,” I tell them both, standing to leave.
Ivy gives me a kind smile and says she hopes I enjoy my visit home.
Doubtful, I think but don’t say.
