Page 72 of Cross Check Daddies
I sigh, head falling back against the cushion. “That’s harder. I care about all three of them, just in completely different ways.”
Ivy raises her brows. “Do tell.”
“Cam is history. Like... first love, almost-married history. Being with him feels like remembering who I used to be and realizing that maybe I still want pieces of that.”
“Hot.”
“Tanner is chaos. He gets under my skin, challenges me. He makes me laugh. And the sex? Unfair.”
“Also hot.”
“Ace is... peace. Steady. Thoughtful. I can breathe around him. He listens to my ideas and shows up before I ask.”
Ivy nods like she’s weighing ingredients for a recipe. “Alright, alright. Impressive spread. And they all know about each other?”
“They do,” I say. “No one’s pretending this is exclusive. They’re not friends. But they’re... respectful.”
She stretches, arms overhead. “Well, you know I’m biased. I’m just thrilled to see you living. You’ve been locked down since Aaron, scared of letting anyone back in. Divorce bruised you, babe. But look at you now.”
I smile at her over the rim of my glass. “Would be better if you moved back. I miss having you close.”
She sighs dramatically. “Iwish. But you know this promotion track. I’ve got to grind hard for another year if I want the partner seat.”
We stand to clear dishes, talking through the usual career chaos. Ivy rants about a junior associate who keeps calling her “ma’am” and a managing partner who refuses to use GoogleCalendar. We load the dishwasher between snorts of laughter, wiping down the counters as we go.
She grabs the water pitcher and spills a full glass down her front. She gasps, grabs a dish towel, and starts dabbing frantically.
“Ugh. Of course.”
“You want a change of clothes?” I ask.
“Yes, please. I’m soaked.”
“Of course, babe. You know where the drawers are.”
She disappears down the hall. I start to gather the wine glasses when I hear her swear from the bedroom.
“Jesus Christ.”
I roll my eyes and head after her. “Hey, language. Jackson has ears the size of saucers.”
She pokes her head out of the bedroom, expression a little strange. “I just got my goddamn period.”
I freeze.
My grip tightens around the wine glass. “Wait... what?”
She stares at me, eyes suddenly wide. “Tell me you have tampons around here." And when she notices the look on my face, she whispers. “Are you okay?”
I blink, throat dry, then shake my head before I follow her in slowly, limbs leaden. “I don’t think I have any.”
Ivy straightens and looks at me. Her tone softens instantly. “Babe… when was your last?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know.
Because I can’t remember.
