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I nodded in agreement as I watched an elderly lady with white curly hair, just like her beloved canine, and yep, she was crowned with a tiara.
Any other day, I would have thanked the lord that not everyone around that neighborhood wore designer and spoke aggressively into their cell phones.
Ivy seemed her natural buoyant self, and by now, I would have whisked her into the back for some fondling and dirty talk summarizing what I planned to do to her that night. But sex was the last thing on my mind.
Summer turned to her daughter. “Can you look after things in here for a moment? I need to do something.”
“Sure, Mom.”
When Ivy had finished serving a customer, I asked, “Is there something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
“Your mom was in a strange mood,” I said.
“I noticed. Maybe she’s fighting with Mitch.”
“I didn’t think she did fights like normal couples.”
“Oh, she has her moments.” Ivy smiled.
I kept studying her, my eyebrows knitting in the process.
Ivy opened her hands. “What?”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Why would you ask that?” She tilted her head.
Shuffling from leg to leg, I stared down at my feet. “Um… I don’t know. You look a little pale. That’s all.”
Ivy headed to the mirror and pinched her cheeks. In reality, she looked great. Rosy cheeks. Beautiful as always. She never failed to take my breath away. Even in the mornings when everyone normally looked like shit, Ivy resembled a flower.
I’d read somewhere that love removed any flaws and had us wearing rose-colored glasses.
I was in love. That much, I knew.
“So, I guess you’re busy now.” I changed the subject. How could I admit to poking about in her bathroom and fiddling with a stick she’d just pissed on?
It was up to Ivy to tell me.
But what about if the baby was Jack’s?
Fuck.
“Would you like to come to dinner tonight? I’d love to show you a hotel I want to buy in Williamsburg.”
“You’re crossing the bridge?” She smirked.
Ivy poked fun at my hipster phobia. “Well, if you can’t beat them, join them. And Hunter’s pretty happy over there.”
“Just promise me one thing,” she said.
“Let me guess. No man bag?”
“Mm… I don’t mind a leather satchel. It’s kind of sexy on the right man. I’m referring to facial hair.”
“Ah. Ditch the caveman look.”
