The door opens, and Ivy steps inside. Her hair is slightly out of place, her expression still bright, but there’s a hint of caution in the way she lingers just inside the room.
“Are you working?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She considers that for a second, then walks in anyway, crossing the room before climbing into the chair across from me.
“I told Irina everything,” she says, her hands folding together in her lap, though they don’t stay still for long. “About Daisy. And the other one. The big one with the floppy ears.”
“I assumed you would.”
“She said we can go back,” Ivy adds quickly, her eyes lifting to mine, watching and waiting. “If you say yes.”
I study her, taking in how she holds herself, trying to keep her voice even though the anticipation is written all over her.
“That’s not her decision.”
“I know,” she says, not backing down. “But Maggie said I can come after school. I can go with Irina to help the animals.”
She’s already thought it through and planned around what she expects I’ll say.
“You’re negotiating,” I tell her.
“I’m explaining,” she counters, her chin lifting.
I hold her hazel-green eyes for a moment, then ask, “You want to go back that badly?”
“Yes,” she replies immediately. There’s no doubt, only certainty.
I glance at the time, then back at her, watching the way her fingers knit together, and how she’s trying not to lean forward or push too hard.
“You can go after school,” I say. “Irina stays with you the entire time and you will be escorted by Ivan. He’ll drive you.”
Her entire face changes, relief and excitement breaking through at once. “Really?”
“Yes.”
She doesn’t move right away, like she’s making sure I don’t take it back, her eyes searching mine for any sign that the answer might change. When it doesn’t, she moves fast.
She’s out of the chair before I can stop her, her arms wrapping around me with a force that doesn’t match her size, her cheek against my shoulder.
“Thank you, Papa,” she says, her voice slightly muffled.
My hand comes up to her back, resting there, holding her in place for a moment longer than I usually allow.
“Ne za chto, solnyshko.” It’s nothing, sunshine.
She pulls back, still smiling, then pauses.
“Can you read to me tonight?”
“I always do.”
“I know,” she says, smiling wider. “I just like asking.”
Of course, she does.
She turns and heads for the door, her steps lighter now, and when it closes behind her, the room eases back into silence.
