Page 102 of My Sweetest Obsession
She tries to whisper it, but I know Ivy is standing in the kitchen behind us, just out of her vision but not out of earshot.
“We’ll talk later.”
I’m not about to delve into my complicated relationship status with Ivy when I’m not entirely sure what it is either.
But it’s something.
There’s no more pretending it isn’t.
And that’s a very good start.
I pull out of her hold, and Mom walks past me as I close the door.
Ivy appears from the kitchen with a plastered-on smile that shows all her unease. “Hey, Nancy. I’m so sorry. I overslept, so I’m not ready.”
Mom’s shrewd gaze sweeps over her in her tiny sleep shorts and one of Drew’s old T-shirts she slept in, the disheveled hair, then to me, and she smirks. “It’s all right. I’m not in any rush today.”
Thank God…
If Mom had decided to press either of us, I’m not sure how well it would have gone when this is still so new.
Yet, somehow, it also isn’t.
Being here with Ivy like this feels so right.
When I first came back to Philly, I sat outside this house, watched her and envied the home Drew and Ivy shared. It’s why setting foot inside was so hard after he was gone. But Ivy wants me here, even if there might always be a part of me that feels guilty about it.
“What do you two ladies have planned?”
Mom’s face lights up, her lips pulling into a grin. “We’re going to look for a stroller and a car seat, and a few other things for the baby’s room.”
Ivy nods, looking just as excited. “I’ve been checking out stuff online, but it’s so hard to tell without seeing it in person, you know?”
I nod slowly. “Sort of. I wouldn’t have been able to select the furniture for the nursery if Mom hadn’t helped. Too many options and things I don’t understand about what a baby needs.”
Which is why I’ve spent months reading various books, trying to prepare myself in case Ivy ever let me back into her life again.
Mom chuckles and sets her purse on the end table next to Gladys. “I’m always happy to help. And I don’t mind waiting until you’re ready, Ivy.”
I motion back into the kitchen. “I was just making breakfast. Pancakes and bacon. You want some?”
Waving me off, she shakes her head. “I already ate, but I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”
“I can do that.”
She settles on the couch, and I slip past Ivy, dragging my hand gently across her stomach and squeezing her hip before I head to the coffee maker.
“You’re coming with us, right?”
Ivy’s question floats over to me, soft, unsure, but powerful enough to make my knees wobble.
My hand freezes with the pod halfway to the coffee maker, and I squeeze my eyes closed, swallowing through a tight throat. “You want me to come shopping for the baby?”
I’m too afraid to look at her and see what’s on her face or in her eyes right now. Terrified I’ll break down completely if I so much as glance her direction.
Soft footsteps move across the kitchen, and she sidles up next to me at the counter. Her warm hand slides across my bare back, and she presses up on her toes so she can get close to my ear. “Of course I do.”
That light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter.
