Page 77 of My Sweetest Obsession
The longer she remains silent, the more confident I become that I made a huge mistake in doing this.
I’ve overstepped.
Massively.
I’ve inserted myself into her life in a place and way she never wanted me.
And why would she?
This isn’t my place.
It never will be.
My gaze drifts to her stomach, to the place I felt my niece kick for the first time. My hand tingles with the memory, wanting so badly to feel it again. “Ivy, I’m sorry. I can change it. I can paint over it tomorrow, and you won’t ever have to see it again. I just thought?—”
Her head finally turns, and her gaze meets mine.
But there isn’t any anger or animosity in her eyes.
Always pain, but not that.
She gives me a half-smile that shatters me completely because it might be the first real hint of joy I’ve seen from her since the night everything fell apart. “It’s perfect.”
Those two simple words immediately soothe some of the uncertainty and turmoil swirling inside me, but her tears haven’t convinced me that I didn’t mess up big time by doing this, especially without telling her first.
And she may not see what I chose for the theme of the nursery the way I do…
Ivy takes a hesitant step inside, and I follow her, giving her space, unsure if she even wants me in here with her—now or ever.
The mural I painstakingly painted takes up the entire far wall.
Strathmere Beach at night with the moon reflecting off the water, exactly how it looked the night we spread Drew’s ashes…
Her gaze stays locked on it for several minutes, taking in every nuance—the dark blues, black, white, and grays necessary to truly capture the image.
“How’d you do it?” Her eyes flick over to me. “It looks exactly like that night.”
Unease tingles my spine, and for some reason, I don’t want to tell her even though there isn’t any reason not to.
I clear my throat. “Uh, Roxy helped me with the color palette.”
Because there’s no way I could have done this version of it on my own.
It would have been a colorless representation of what I saw, but not what she did. And not how their baby should see that beach or that night.
She flinches slightly, as if the mere mention of another woman is enough to hurt her, but then she smiles. “It’s beautiful.”
I step in farther and stand near the crib that sits between the new matching dresser and changing table, while the rocking chair occupies the corner closest to the mural, tucked in under the moon we stood beneath that night.
And seeing her stand there now, in front of it, it’s almost like being back on that beach, with our feet sinking into that sand and our anguish threatening to drown us as we said our final goodbyes to him.
God, I hope I got it right…
All of it.
“You have to tell me if you don’t like anything. I just thought…” I swallow thickly, my eyes drifting to the large heart-shaped vase that I painted Drew’s name on sitting on top of the dresser filled with sand from Strathmere. My gaze ghosts over the paintings I did to decorate the walls featuring friendly, cartoonish sea creatures. “I just thought your daughter should have him with her all the time, and this is the closest I could get to giving that to her…and you.”
A sob slips from Ivy’s lips, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
