Page 40 of The SEAL's Duchess
“Time to go home, bug.” He slung her backpack over his shoulder, every nerve alive with Ivy’s gaze. “But guess what? We’ll see Ivy again tonight at Auntie Sarah’s.”
The words were meant for Ellie, but his gaze landed on Ivy. She met his eyes for a second too long. Her lips parted as if she was going to say something—but didn’t.
“Come on, butterfly girl.” He held out his hand. “Time to go.”
The walk to the lot felt like a mile. Every step dragged him farther from Ivy’s laugh, from the warmth in her eyes when she looked at Ellie, from the dangerous rightness he’d felt seeing them together.
He buckled Ellie into her car seat, only half-hearing her chatter. He told himself to feel relief—Ivy had made it clear, she was leaving, end of story. That should’ve been enough. But his body didn’t buy it, every muscle braced like he was already losing something he hadn’t even had.
The echo of her laugh, the memory of her hand on his daughter, pressed under his skin.
Like she’d slipped past every defense straight into the place he’d sworn to keep locked forever.
18
Ivy stood frozenbeside the craft table as Ryder walked away with Ellie’s small hand tucked in his. The gym door swung closed behind them.
God, who am I fooling—pretending he doesn’t matter?
She pressed her fingertips hard against her eyelids until color flared behind them, as if she could smudge out the sight of him.
For the last few hours, surrounded by construction paper and finger paint, she’d felt lighter than she had in months. No financial deadlines pressing against her skull or contracts demanding her signature. No centuries-old estate hanging over her like a sword.
Just laughter, sticky glue, and enough glitter to blind a person.
Until Ryder looked at her like that and everything else stopped.
The fair thinned around her, laughter softening to echoes and footsteps across the gym floor. She started wiping loose glitter and paper scraps from the table, needing motion to calm her restless mind.
Every nerve had sparked like a frayed wire the moment she’d looked up to find him watching her with Ellie. His expression had been unguarded for only a second before it shuttered, the glimpse gone as quickly as it came. She shouldn’t have seen it at all. It had no business existing between them.
Tonight, she’d be sitting across from him again at Sarah’s dinner table, trying to make polite conversation while her pulse tore through her veins every time he looked at her.
She’d hoped Sarah’s invitation tofamily dinnerhad meant just Sarah and maybe her husband if she had one. Clearly, that had been wishful thinking.
Table cleared and craft materials shelved, she said her goodbyes and left the school gym.
Snow drifted in fat flakes as she crossed the parking lot, her breath hanging white in the deepening cold. She waved at some of the departing families, pulling her coat tighter and wishing that Ryder’s jacket was still wrapped around her.
It had been warm in a way nothing else was.
A thought pressed in before she could stop it.I want this one day. Family. Children.Ryder’s face rose with it, unshakable, no matter how fiercely she tried to shove it aside.
Wanting something just for herself was unfamiliar territory. And terrifying. The image crystallized with startling clarity—him teaching a child to tie their shoes, reading bedtime stories, the same protective intensity he showed Ellie extending to their?—
Their children.
The words hung in her mind, terrifying in their specificity.
Not just any children.
Our children.
The image felt so real she could almost hear phantom laughter echoing through rooms that didn’t exist, in a life she had no right to imagine.
It hurt in the way flying might hurt, wings fighting to unfold in a body built for staying on the ground.
She was leaving in days. He lived here, rooted in this place, this community, while she had responsibilities tying her to England.
