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Ivy stared up into my face, as open as I’d ever seen her. She opened her mouth to say something, and Parker yelled my name from past the tree.
“Cameron, quit making out with your client slash friend.”
Ivy exhaled a laugh, pinching her eyes shut as color climbed into her cheeks.
“Fucking brothers,” I muttered.
“Go,” she said quietly.
She followed me, though, ignoring the pointed looks from my mom and the smug grin on Poppy’s face. And she gamely handled taking the photos while we shifted into place around my dad. Olive and Isla both fit onto his lap on the wheelchair, Olive carefully holding the baby into place with a heartbreakingly serious expression on her face. I don’t think she smiled in a single picture, she was so concerned with Isla face-planting forward.
When we were done, my dad motioned Ivy forward. “Your turn, sweetheart. I need a picture with my chess buddy.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”
My mom leaned in. “Remember what my kids said about how it was pointless to refuse my invitations for dinner because I’d wear you down eventually?”
Ivy sighed. “Yes.”
Mom nodded toward Dad. “Sit.”
She did, her chin held high and her shoulders squared in my direction. Dad took one of her hands and held it in his own. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said. “We need to remember these things, you know. All of a sudden, the little moments become big ones, and we don’t always know when that will happen.” He patted her hand. “Easy to forget that sometimes.”
Ivy’s eyes snapped to mine, and I wondered what she saw when she looked into my face.
If she saw just how hard I’d fallen for her. If she was thinking about all the little moments—the ones that didn’t feel big at the time—the ones that now loomed large in my mind.
Ivy blinked, redirecting her attention to my mom. Her lips curled in a restrained, closed-mouth smile. But the smile was real; her eyes were sincere and a little sad, her fingers firmly closed around my dad’s.
“There,” my mom said softly. “That’s a good one.”
Ivy was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, and quiet as we eventually made our way back to my parents’ house.
Olive’s eyes were heavy as she was curled up on the couch between Greer and Beckett.
“We should get her to bed,” Beckett said, gently pushing his daughter’s hair off her face.
“I’m not tired,” Olive protested.
Dad laughed quietly from his chair. “I’m not tired either, Olive. But Grandma Sheila will make me go to bed soon too.”
Mom was at the kitchen table playing cards with Lydia, Erik, Emmett, and Adaline. She eyed my dad firmly. “That’s right.”
Emmett had his arm around Adaline’s shoulders, and he leaned in to kiss the side of her head. Lydia tugged her cards away when Erik tried to see her hand. “Quit cheating,” she said. “You know I’m going to win anyway.”
My brother sighed at his wife. “You always do.”
Ivy wasn’t sitting by me, she was in the kitchen with Poppy, but her eyes met mine briefly. Parker and Ian played chess in the middle of the family room. Ian was getting flustered as Parker kept making moves he wasn’t expecting.
Ivy wandered closer, peering over Ian’s shoulder. He gave her a quick, surprised glance when she asked, “May I?”
“Uh, sure.”
She studied the board, her brow furrowing slightly, then moved one of his pieces.
Parker sat up. “Oh shit.”
Ian grinned. “That’s check, asshole.”
