Page 143 of Only Mine
SAINT
Ivy is asleep when I get home, her arms thrown wide and mouth open in a way that makes her look much younger than five. I hover in her doorway for a while, watching her chest rise and fall, feeling the ache of everything I’m supposed to give her. For years, I told myself that keeping her safe was the same as keeping myself safe, that if I just kept turmoil out, the world would never cut into her.
But what if I was just using her as a shield? What if I was so afraid of wanting anything for myself that I hid behind her and let Ivy become the reason I never had to take a risk?
When I finally head downstairs, I find Erin curled up on my couch with a glass of my wine, scrolling through her phone. She’s changed out of her professional clothing and into an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, which I understand because it’s past 3 a.m.…
… until I notice what sweatshirt she’s wearing.
It’s one of mine, a lived-in, gray one with a flying unicorn pulling a rainbow banner saying “GIRL DAD” that Ivy chose for me a while ago. It’s also the one Wrenley stole everymorning because she said it had the perfect mix of softness, Ivy-ness, and Saint-ness.
“Make yourself at home,” I say dryly, also noticing the fire she’s lit in the hearth.
She looks up with a smile that’s nothing like the professional mask she wears at school or with my daughter. “I hope you don’t mind. I found the wine in your pantry, and Ivy was asking about the fireplace earlier. Thought it might help her sleep better.”
My gaze lands on the wine bottle next to her glass. A 2015 Pauillac I brought back from France last year.
“That’s a two-hundred-dollar bottle, Erin.”
“Is it?” She takes another sip, completely unbothered. “It’s delicious. You have excellent taste.”
I run a hand through my hair, then move to the kitchen. Bourbon would be preferable, but since I’ll be seeing Ivy in a few hours, coffee it is.
Erin gets to her feet and follows, wineglass in hand.
“So,” she says, leaning against the doorframe. “I saw the video before Wrenley deleted it.”
My hands still on the coffee maker. I’ve accepted I won’t be sleeping tonight. “And?”
“I have to say, I was surprised. You don’t strike me as the type to let someone film you.”
There’s a subtext to her tone that makes my shoulders tense. “It wasn’t planned.”
“No, I imagine it wasn’t.” She moves closer, wineglass dangling from her fingers. “But I can see why it went viral.”
I can no longer keep my back turned on her. “What’s your point, Erin?”
“My point is that I’ve been watching you for months, Saint. Watching you hold everyone at arm’s length, includingme.” She sets the wineglass on the counter at my elbow. “But you let her in after what, a week?”
Erin’s crowding my space enough that I can smell her perfume, spicy and musky, nothing like Wrenley’s tropics and flowers.
I lean back against the counter, arms crossed.
She rests a hand on my forearm. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Ivy’s the best kid I’ve ever worked with, and you pay me more than I make teaching, but we both know why you hired me, and it’s not for my lesson plans.”
I stay where I am, a cold curiosity blooming. “Why do you think I hired you?”
She shrugs, rubbing her thumb back and forth against my arm. “Because I’m a safe bet. I’m someone who can handle your daughter without getting attached or messy. I’m not going to fall in love with you, Saint. I’m not going to try to be her mother. I’m not the type to get my heart broken.”
Erin lifts her wine with her free hand, takes a sip, then sets it back down, all while keeping her unwavering gaze locked on mine. “Tonight, Ivy woke up twice. She kept calling for Wrenley, even though she wasn’t here. She said she dreamed Wrenley was lost at the bottom of the lake.”
I flinch, both at the fact that Ivy’s having nightmares again, and that Erin’s hitting much too close to the truth.
Erin sees it, inching closer until her breasts press against my crossed arms.
“You know,” Erin murmurs, sliding her hand up my arm, “I could help you forget about her.”
I don’t move as her fingers trace the tattoo peeking from beneath my sleeve.
