Page 27 of Raising Love
The only thing that eventually got me out of my car was knowing Ivy was inside. She’d given up just as much as I had—and then some. She was in there right now, taking care of a baby she never planned to have. I was sure she missed the city as much as I did, but she didn’t get the same opportunities to escape it.
That thought—and my mother’s voice in my head—finally got me moving.
“You better not leave Ivy to do everything, Leo,” my mother, Cheryl, had told me when I showed up unannounced at her place.
It was late—almost ten—and instead of being happy to see me, she wasn’t even letting me in.
“It’s just as much of a shock and adjustment for her as it is for you,” she said, standing in the doorway.
“Are you gonna let me in, Ma?”
“No.” She shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. “Because if you’re here, that means Ivy’s home with that baby—alone. And I’m not aiding and abetting.”
I chuckled, shifting my stance on her doorstep. “Excuse me?”
“Go home, Leo,” she said with a knowing smile. “Go be the man I raised you to be.”
I closed my eyes now and inhaled deeply. When was this going to feel like home? When would it click for me to be as hands-on as Ivy? When did it click for her?
My gaze fell to the bags of takeout sitting on the passenger seat.
At the very least, I could bring home dinner.
Since moving here with the baby, I’d taken on the task of getting food from the city—a convenient excuse to escape to Manhattan. Ivy wasn’t much of a cook, and while my mother made it a priority for me to learn how to cook growing up under her roof, I simply didn’t feel like cooking as an adult. Between caring for the baby and everything else, we barely had time to figure out a proper meal routine. We were still sorting through profiles for housekeepers and possibly a cook.
It was a lot.
I sighed, grabbed the plastic handles of the takeout bags, and pushed open the door to step out.
The night was cold. We’d had our first snowfall recently, and people I knew who lived in Upstate New York said it could’ve been worse. They told me I should be grateful for how mild this first winter in Greene Gardens was.
When I stepped into the house, the scent of lemon cleaner hit me.
Everything was in its place—nothing on the floors or surfaces within view.
I snickered as I unlaced my sneakers. I was seconds away from kicking them off when I remembered my promise to Ivy.
I set the takeout bags on the small table by the front door, then removed my sneakers and placed them neatly on the shoe rack she had bullied me into using.
Cleanliness wasn’t my thing. It just wasn’t.
My mom had always cleaned up after me without complaint. In college, my roommate was just as messy as me, so we only cleaned when we had company—which was often, but it didn’t make us any less messy. Once I got into the league and started making money, I hired someone to handle it. And they didn’t complain either—because I paid them well.
Seeing Ivy get all upset over me leaving my stuff wherever it fell was both comical and sobering.
Speaking of which, I didn’t see or hear her or the baby anywhere on the ground floor.
I glanced at my watch, noting it was about the time Ivy would usually be in the office we’d set up after the baby nurse left—or maybe in the kitchen.
Like I said, she barely slept, so the last place I expected her to be was in bed.
Still, I wanted to make sure everything was good before I sat down to eat.
Kendra and Tyrell had done a great job getting this property together before… well, before everything happened. Ivy and I had added our own touches since moving in—our way of trying to make it feel like our own.
I was still waiting for it to actually feel that way.
On the second floor, where all three bedrooms were, only one room had its light on: Baby Love’s nursery.
