Page 79 of My Sweetest Obsession
I keep asking her that, like some broken record that should have been thrown out a long time ago, but each and every thing in here was selected for a reason, and if I got it wrong, I need to fix it.
Because there are so many other things I can’t fix.
Things that will haunt me every day for the rest of my life.
The ones in this room are easy.
Those? Not so much.
“I love it. Really.” She swallows hard, like she’s struggling to keep her emotions in check as much as I am. “Please thank Roxy for me.”
I nod slowly, watching the way she cradles her belly so protectively. “I will.”
“Are you two…?”
The way she doesn’t finish the question has me lifting my head and searching her face.
Is that a hint of jealousy, or is believing that just wishful thinking?
It’s impossible to know where I stand with Ivy after everything that’s happened.
We’ve spent months dancing around each other. Pretending that falling into bed together whenever she asks me to come over, only to have me walk away with my heart in my throat, is somehow okay. Avoiding the reality of what we’re doing to ourselves and each other each time I touch her. Denying the fact that she still hates and blames me, even as she seeks me out to find comfort with increasing frequency. Ignoring the fact that as much as she despises me and tells me as much as I give her physical pleasure, I still love her—more now than ever.
I offer a weighted sigh. “I sat down with her a while back and explained some stuff to her that she needed to know about my addiction and recovery. To understand what happened between us and why.”
Ivy’s gaze softens, the hand stroking her belly stilling. “And?”
“And she accepted my apology, even if she shouldn’t have, even if I have a lot more amends to make.” I shrug. “But we’re good now. Friends.”
My emphasis on that final word may be a bit much, but I don’t want Ivy thinking there’s anything going on between Roxy and me. I care about her as one of my oldest friends, as someone I used to confide in and who has supported me through many years by keeping my identity secret, and that’s it.
That’s all it will ever be.
And now that we’ve cleared the air, we’ve managed to fall into how things were before so easily that working with her on this mural and the room felt like stepping back in time to before I fucked up everything.
Ivy nods, chewing on her bottom lip as she continues to rock. “Good. I’m glad you have a friend here in Philly.”
I give her a tight smile. “Me, too.”
Making amends with Roxy helped alleviate some of the guilt I felt about what happened between us, but there are so many other things that I can never make up for.
This room feels like a woefully inadequate step, but it is one nonetheless.
“My mom did some shopping for you…”
She raises a brow, and I motion toward the dresser and the closed closet doors. Her rocking stops, and she cautiously climbs to her feet, using the chair arm to brace herself.
The larger her belly grows, the more nervous I become about what will happen when this baby arrives.
Not because I doubt for one moment that Ivy loves her daughter with every fiber of her being, but mostly because I’m aware of how painful each little milestone will be for her. She has Marlo, Trina, and Mom to help her, to be at her side, to give her advice and assistance, yet I know she will constantly be thinking about Drew not being here.
It’s a constant dark whirlpool that could drag her under if she’s not aware of it—something I’m all too familiar with.
She reaches the closet and slides open the doors. Her breath catches as her eyes sweep over all the little dresses and other outfits hung neatly on the rail.
Her gaze shifts to the dresser, and she walks over and tugs it open, each drawer filled with more outfits, onesies, itty-bitty socks, and every other adorable piece of clothing a baby could ever want or need.
Ivy’s hands tighten on the top of the drawer, and her head falls low, a sob ripping through her…
