Page 51 of Silver Fox's Secret Triplets
I was taking a risk. Opening myself up to someone who might not be who she seemed, who might have secrets that could destroy whatever was building between us. The smart thing would be to keep my distance, to protect myself the way I had for years.
But I couldn't. Whatever Ivy was hiding, whatever reasons she had for being evasive, I needed to know. I needed to try.
I walked back to the windows, pressing my palms flat against the glass. If she was lying to me—if I opened myself up again only to be blindsided—I didn't know if I'd recover this time.
19
IVY
The drive to the hospital took twenty minutes through midday traffic. I found Mom in the courtyard garden, exactly where she'd said she'd be when she called and asked us to come for a visit, sitting on a bench beneath a flowering dogwood tree. She wore a soft pink headscarf that complemented her complexion, and despite the obvious weight loss and pallor, her smile was radiant when she saw us approaching.
"There are my babies!" she called out, her voice carrying across the small garden space.
The triplets needed no encouragement. They broke free from my supervision and rushed toward her, Elena reaching her first and climbing carefully onto the bench beside her. Sammy and Chrissy flanked her on either side, chattering excitedly about everything they'd done since she'd last seen them.
"Grandma, look what I can do!" Sammy announced, then proceeded to demonstrate his newfound ability to hop on one foot while counting to ten.
Mom clapped enthusiastically, her laughter genuine and bright. "That's incredible! You've gotten so good at that."
Chrissy pulled her stuffed elephant from the stroller and presented it to Mom for inspection. "Peanut missed you," she declared solemnly.
"Well, I missed Peanut too," Mom replied, accepting the worn toy with appropriate reverence. "And I missed all of you more than you can imagine."
We'd been there for about thirty minutes when Dad's car pulled into the hospital parking lot. I watched him walk across the courtyard, his steps quickening when he spotted Mom surrounded by the children. His face softened in a way I rarely saw anymore, the stern businessman facade dropping away as he took in the scene.
"Look who's holding court out here," he said, settling onto the bench beside Mom. She leaned into him naturally, and for a moment they looked the way they had when I was young—united, content, whole.
Elena immediately began regaling him with a detailed account of her morning activities, while Sammy showed off his hopping skills for a new audience. Dad listened with patience I hadn't seen him display toward anyone in months, including me.
"Ivy," he said eventually, his tone carefully neutral. "Don't you have that work function tonight?"
I nodded, conscious of how he avoided my eyes even while addressing me directly. "Yes, the charity fundraiser."
"You should head home and get ready. I can stay here with your mother and keep an eye on the children." He turned to Mom. "If you're feeling up to it?"
"I'd love that," she said, her eyes bright with the prospect of more time with her grandchildren.
I hesitated, torn between wanting to stay and knowing I needed to prepare for the evening ahead. "Are you sure? They can be a handful, especially when they get tired."
"I think we can manage," Dad replied, his first direct response to me that didn't carry an edge of suspicion or reproach.
I gathered my purse and bent to kiss each of the kids goodbye, explaining that Grandpa would stay with them and Grandma for a while longer. Elena barely looked up from the flower petals she was collecting, while Sammy and Chrissy were engaged in showing Mom how fast they could run between two trees.
"Extra snacks are in the blue bag," I told Dad. "And if they get cranky, Elena responds well to the tablet with the educational games, but limit screen time to fifteen minutes. Sammy will need to use the bathroom soon—he's been holding it since we got here but won't admit it. Chrissy gets overwhelmed in crowded spaces, so if she starts clinging, find somewhere quieter."
Dad nodded, taking in the information with the same attention he brought to business meetings. "What time should I have them home?"
"By eight, if possible. Bath time is usually around seven-thirty, and they get difficult if their routine is disrupted too much."
"I'll make sure they're ready for bed when you get back," he said, and for the first time in weeks, his voice carried no underlying tension.
After transferring booster seats to Dad's car, I climbed in my van and started it up. The drive home felt strange without the constant chatter from the backseat. The house was empty when I walked through the front door, Dad's study door open and vacant, no sounds of life echoing from upstairs. I stood in the foyer for a moment, adjusting to the quiet.
In my bedroom, I closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed, taking in the rare solitude. When was the last time I'dbeen alone in this house? Alone anywhere, for that matter? The stillness felt foreign after months of constant motion and noise.
I opened my closet and pulled out the dress I'd chosen—a deep navy sheath that skimmed my curves without being too revealing, with a modest neckline appropriate for a charity function. It was one of the few formal pieces I owned, purchased years ago for a college event and rarely worn since.
My hands shook as I applied makeup, something I rarely bothered with beyond basic concealer and mascara. Tonight felt different, though. Tonight I would be on Duncan's arm at a public event, introduced to his colleagues and peers, stepping into a role I wasn't sure I was ready for.
