Page 67 of Cross Check Daddies
“Yay!” He punches the air, then goes back to his coloring like I didn’t just hand him the golden ticket.
I’m about to ask if he wants to help me set the table when I hear the knock. I stand, already smiling, expecting to see Ace in that soft blue shirt I asked for.
But when I open the door, it’s not him. It’s Ivy.
She’s wearing a dark suit, wrinkled from the day, and her mascara’s smudged, trailing faint streaks down her cheeks. Her lower lip is trembling, even as she tries to hold it together.
“I lost the case,” she whispers. I know she has been working on this wrongful termination case for months, hoping that it would give her an edge at her track to becoming partner.
“Oh, babe,” I breathe, stepping forward and pulling her into a hug. Her body folds against mine like it’s been bracing all day. “Come in.”
She leans her head on my shoulder for a second before pulling back, frantically wiping at her face. “How do I look?”
“Like you just won a war,” I say softly. “Perfect.”
Her mouth lifts in a grateful half-smile. She takes a breath, steels her spine, then steps inside like she didn’t just shatter five minutes ago.
“Hey, kiddo,” she says.
Jackson jumps up. “Ivy!”
He launches himself into her arms, and she laughs as she catches him, spinning him once. “You’re getting tall. I swear, last time I saw you, you were shorter than your bulldog.”
“I’m coloring,” he announces, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the living room.
“I’ll get us wine,” I call, already heading to the kitchen.
I pour her a glass of red, the good bottle I was saving for the launch party, and grab Jackson a juice box. I hand Ivy her glass, and she takes it with both hands like she’s been holding her breath all week.
I’m contemplating texting Ace to reschedule. Not because I don’t want to see him, but because Ivy’s my person. When she breaks, I show up.
Then there’s another knock.
Shit.
Ivy lifts an eyebrow. “One of your boy toys?”
“What’s a boy toy?” Jackson asks, immediately interested.
I shoot her a look sharp enough to slice steel while redirecting Jackson’s attention to his coloring page.
“I think that page needs a new blue T-Rex,” I say fast. “That red’s getting jealous.”
He nods seriously and leans back into the chaos of crayon art.
I open the door.
Ace stands there, blue shirt, pizzas in one hand, six-pack of beer in the other.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says.
I lean in to kiss him. His lips are soft, warm, familiar now. The kiss deepens before I even mean for it to. My fingers reach for his shirt, the smell of his cologne curling around me.
But then I hear the slight throat-clearing behind me.
Ace pulls back, eyes scanning my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I am,” Ivy says from behind me.
