Page 33 of Melt For Us, Daddy
“No. He needs to keep a relatively low profile but I talked to Braden a bit yesterday and he’s going to let Jacob work at the club during the day when there’s nobody there. We’re actually supposed to meet him there this afternoon, if you’d like to come with us.”
“You couldn't keep me away if you tried.”
She’d meant it as a light, teasing jab, but when Cordelia looked up, her eyes were deadly serious. “You have to promise me that if I tell you not to go somewhere or do something that you’ll listen to me, Ivy. You know I don’t make it a habit of controlling your every move for no reason. If I tell you no, I have a damn good reason.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Dee, I was teasing. Of course if you told me not to come, I would listen. But I need you to be honest with me in return.”
“As much as I possibly can, baby. Some of it I won’t be able to share, because it may not be mine to share. And if something big goes down, I may not have time to explain why I need you to obey me right away. But everything I can tell you, I will.”
“Good enough.”
Relief flickered in her eyes. “Thank you, baby. Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
There was a hint of something in Cordelia’s tone that told her she was asking about more than just her day with Jacob. Swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in her throat, Ivy nodded. “Will you tell me about him? Your husband?”
Her expression carefully blank, Cordelia nodded. “He’s not legally my husband. But in the eyes of the church, he will stay my husband until the day he dies. Which, as far as I’m concerned, can’t happen soon enough.”
That was a burden she hadn’t known she’d been carrying, the thought of Cordelia being legally bound to someone else. She’d always imagined marrying her someday, and the idea of having to do battle with some self-appointed ‘prophet of god’ to make that happen had been weighing on her, more than she’d realized. “How old were you? When you married him?”
“Twelve.” Cordelia’s voice, usually so strong and sure, was barely a whisper. And Ivy was reminded why she’d stopped asking questions about Cordelia’s past. Seeing that pain on her woman’s face was more than she could bear.
But if they were going to get through this, if they had any hope of salvaging the future they’d worked so hard to build, they’d both have to be strong enough to face her past.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t offer comfort. Rising from her seat, she settled on Cordelia’s lap, wrapping her arms around her as Cordelia pressed her face into Ivy’s neck.
“Sorry. I just needed a moment. I’m fine now.”
“Dee.” Cupping Cordelia’s face in her hands, Ivy looked down into those beautiful emerald eyes she loved so much. “You don't have to be strong for me all the time. Being my Dominant doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have feelings, that you’re not allowed to hurt. Let me be strong for you, for once. Please?”
“I’m trying. It’s… hard, letting myself feel weak. Even for a second. I’ve been fighting just to survive my whole damn life, Ivy. I’m terrified of what happens if I stop fighting.”
“You’re not going to stop fighting. You’re just taking a breather. And you’re letting me hold the sword for a bit.”
They stayed in that moment, gazes locked as the silence stretched between them. And when Dee finally spoke, her voice was softer, more uncertain that Ivy could ever remember hearing it. “I’ll try.”
Good enough, at least for now. “We don’t have to keep talking about this right now if it’s too much.”
“No. I’m good. Ah, there’s a box on the coffee table. Will you get it for me, please?”
As always eager to please, Ivy slid from her lap to retrieve the requested box. It was light for as large as it was, and her imagination went wild wondering what could be in it.
But when she tried to pass it off to Cordelia, she shook her head. “Open it.”
Heart beating a little faster, a little harder, she returned to her spot on Cordelia’s lap, unable to bear the thought of not being with her for whatever that box held. With fingers that trembled more than she would have liked considering she’d just told Cordelia she would be strong, she lifted the lid and set it aside.
Pictures. So many pictures, mostly of a young Cordelia, dressed in plain beige clothing with her hair in a single braid down her back.
“Last night was the first time I’ve looked at any of those since I left. I don’t even know why I took them with me, if I’m being honest.”
“Maybe to remind yourself of why you left? In case you ever wanted to go back?”
“Probably. Luckily, I never had that urge. Once I was out, once I had that taste of freedom, I was hooked. Even when I was working three jobs just to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, I never thought of going back.”
Her beautiful, brave, woman. Was it any wonder she’d fallen so hard for her so fast?
A picture caught her eye, and she slowly lifted it from the box. Cordelia again, though this time in a white dress with big poofy sleeves instead of her usual beige. Gripping a bouquet of flowers, standing next to a man old enough to be her father. Older, even.
“Your wedding day,” Ivy murmured, silently fighting back the rage churning in her stomach.
