Page 4 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
She looks surprised. “No. Actually, she wasn’t even on my mind when I decided to come over.”
A minor relief, but it doesn’t last long. What brought Ivy here, then? She wasn’t interested in an apology or the possibility of working things out two days ago. Even though part of me hopes she’s changed her mind, I know fate is rarely that kind.
Except…now that she’s here, there’s no way I’m letting her walk away. Not again.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” she says slowly. “I kept asking myself if I could not have even the tiniest bit of regret.”
She sighs heavily.
Say you had lots of regrets. Say you’re going to come back, if for nothing but to kick my ass.
“I couldn’t answer, and that means I’d always wonder if we could’ve fixed it somehow. If we could’ve overcome this and been happy.”
I stare, wondering if I misheard. It’s happened before, after Ivy “died” and I thought I saw her every time I walked past a young strawberry blonde…or heard a voice that sounded similar. How can she be saying exactly what I desperately want to hear? A miracle like this can’t happen again. Can it?
But she isn’t getting up to slap my face or point and laugh at me for being gullible. She tilts her chin and gazes at me. At a glance, her eyes are brilliant, but underneath, I can sense the ambivalence and fear—that she might be making the wrong decision and opening herself up for more pain. I loathe myself for putting those in her. This is not what I wanted. I don’t deserve her. But I’m not noble or self-sacrificing enough to tell her she shouldn’t waste herself on someone like me.
“It isn’t easy, because you can’t fix a broken trust like patching up a hole in a wall. But I want to be sure,” she says.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.“I’m willing to do anything,” I say. If I can take away the uncertainty and fear from her eyes, I’d rip my arms off for her.
She presses her lips together for a moment. “Then can we promise we’ll never lie to each other from this moment on, no matter how difficult it is to tell the truth?”
The whole, unvarnished truth can be so ugly. Mother’s back in town for some reason, making her move, and the poison she can tell Ivy to pull her away from me…
But if this is the only way, there’s no negotiation. “Yes.”
“Okay. I think that’s the first step. Maybe there’ll be more, but we can address them as they come.”
“Thank you,” I say. As long as I have Ivy, we can work out the rest.
She smiles. It’s small, and not as brilliant as it used to be, but it’s a smile anyway. I hold that in my heart like the greatest treasure in the world.
“You should shower,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Her voice is light and kind, though.
I look down at myself and have to agree with her assessment. “Is that you being honest?”
“Yes. Tony, you need to take care of yourself better. It isn’t worth it for you to do this to yourself.” She hesitates for a moment, then adds, “It isn’t like I’m going to know you’re suffering and come back.”
I pause. Does she think I’m manipulative, like Audrey with her fake suicide attempt? I don’t mind if Ivy thinks I’m a shithead, because I have been, but this point isn’t true.
“I’m not doing this to appeal to your pity or sympathy, Ivy. What do you think would happen if the sun vanished and the world plunged into darkness? Do you think people are going to care about anything?”
“Tony…”
“There’s no meaning to my life without you.”
She stares at me. “How can I mean that much to you?”
I don’t understand how she can possibly think she could ever mean less. Since I can’t rip my chest open to show her, I say, “I’m sticking to our rule, Ivy. I’m not lying. I’m not exaggerating.”
But I don’t move from my seat. I should shower, but what if she vanishes? What if I’m dreaming all this?
“I’m going to finish this and wait for you,” she says, as though she knows exactly why I’m hesitating. “I haven’t had breakfast yet. You should feed me after your shower.”
Staying is going to be insulting now. I sprint upstairs. As I strip off my wrinkled clothes, I get a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and shake my head. Bloodshot eyes. Hair sticking up in some places and plastered to my skull in others. Two days’ growth of beard. If I were Ivy, I would’ve left in disgust. No wonder she told me to take better care of myself.
I brush my teeth, then gargle with mouthwash, while I run the shower. Ivy wants me to look like a civilized human being, so I will. I hop under the hot water, wash myself thoroughly and shave, so I don’t look like a Neanderthal exhibit from a museum. Anxiety over Mother’s abrupt visit surfaces in my mind, but I push it away because it’s only going to upset me. No reason to ruin the joy of having another chance with Ivy by thinking about my old, ugly past. I’ll deal with Mother later, privately, without Ivy present.
After I turn off the water, I dry myself and run a comb through my shaggy hair. I need a haircut, but there’s nothing to be done about that right now. I make a mental note to see my barber as soon as I can, then change into a fresh set of clothes—including a V-neck shirt and loose shorts.
I stare at myself in the mirror in the walk-in closet. As long as Ivy gives me a chance to redeem myself, I can do this. I see the empty rods and hangers where her things used to be. They’re going to be filled again, and I’m going to make it up to her even if it’s the last thing I do.
