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Yes. Yes, she is.
“Will your new, uh … girlfriend care about that? You know, I found it very interesting that you of all people would go on a dating show,” Vicky says, cocking her head to the side as she studies me.
“It wasn’t my decision. The director offered to contribute to Heartful if I participated in the show, and I don’t think she will care.”
“Ah, things are a little clearer now. But you might not be right in your assumption that she won’t care.” Vicky shakes her head and takes the now-empty glass from my hand.
When did I finish that?
“She is the … girl from the show.”
“You were matched with Alice?” Vicky’s brows hit her hairline, and then I scowl as a smile breaks across her face. “Oh, Simon. This will be very interesting. Very interesting indeed.”
She turns to carry my glass back into the kitchen, and I almost ask her for more but decide against it. I just want to fall into bed and sleep. I don’t even want to break down why she stopped calling me Dr. Morrow and what her cryptic words and tone meant. It seems that’s what follows me these days—people speaking in riddles.
I take the stairs two at a time. Slowly opening Ivy’s door down the hall, I peek in at her. Her dark hair is strewn across her pillow, one arm thrown above her head and one clutching her stuffed bunny she’s had since birth.
I quietly walk in, sitting on the side of her bed, and stare down at her, taking in her sweet face and the eyelashes touching her cheeks, fluttering slightly as she dreams.
When did she grow older? Why haven’t I been paying attention?
Sometimes, it hurts to look at her, seeing her mother’s face mirrored in her own features, but right now, I just see Ivy. My precious, sweet girl, growing up before my very eyes.
I brush a tendril of hair off her forehead and bend to kiss her cheek, promising to be a better dad from here on out.
