Page 81 of Mommy

There are no birds chirping yet, so it can’t possibly be later than that.

I texted Sam and he told me that anything up to 10 or 12 hours was considered normal, depending on how many puppies are in the litter. Considering that there are currently 9 puppies crawling about on my once cream coloured rug, I guess we are still in time.

“It’s crazy to see how many siblings there are.” Ivory murmurs quietly, both of her hands coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes.

My arm around her pulls her closer to my chest, my chin coming to rest on top of her head. With her body tucked into mine and my face so close to hers, I can smell her own scent beneath the shampoo. Taking a moment to inhale, I string together the right words in my head.

“Do you remember what it was like?”

I don’t want her to get hurt by my words, so I choose them carefully. I’m feeling for her reaction when I bring up the sibling she was supposed to have.

For a long moment there is nothing. No muscle that moves, no words that answer my question, just her breath, slowly flowing in and out of her chest and her heart beating against my own.

“Nothing.”

I keep quiet, feeling that there’s more she wants to say. Feelings that she’s scared to express, so she traps the words behind her teeth. They break through only when she sucks in a breath through her lips.

“My mom had trouble birthing Ebony. Something with the umbilical cord, I think. There was some complication and it was only me who was delivered somewhat safely.”

Somewhat safely isn’t safe. I know that birth trauma is nothing to take lightly, but I don’t interrupt Ivory. There’s more she wants to say, so I keep my mouth shut and listen.

“Ebony actually died a few years later, and then… It was always just me and mom. I just felt that there was something missing. I—” she stops, drawing another shuddering breath before she continues. “I always felt like I was missing something to be enough.”

The thought of her not being enough is ridiculous and I think about telling her that she’s more than two hands full to lighten the tension. The me from a few weeks ago probably would’ve done exactly that. And while I’m being honest, that guy would’ve done a good job of making Ivory forget about this, she would’ve laughed it off as if it’s no big deal and we would’ve both felt good pushing the problem under the rug.

But I’m not that guy right now. And I know that dismissing her insecurities won’t make them really go away. So I do the one thing I usually avoid.

I choose a messy truth over a clean distraction.

“You never felt like you weren’t enough for me.”

I don’t even know what I mean by that, if I want to say that I like her, or if I want her to think she’s more than a game. If she’d ask, I wouldn’t have an answer to that question. Everything is mushy in my brain, and the fact that I’m tired doesn’t help much. Or that her scent has put me into a cocoon of warmth, like her soul wrapped me up and I could see nothing but the inside of her heart.

Ivory doesn’t answer and instead, I feel her breathing even out, her heart slowing against mine, and when her weight doubles in my arms I know she went back to sleep.

Instead of keeping her upright, I let us both slide to the side gently. Ivy’s head comes to rest on my arm, her small figure curls against mine, her back to my chest.

Posie has stopped breathing heavily and instead she started licking the pups clean.

I think about getting up to help her clean up and get them all into their crate, but… the rug is ruined anyway, and I don’t want to wake Ivory. Not when her breathes ghost so softly over my forearm, and her hair fans out in front of my face, creating the perfect pillow for me.

Chapter forty two

Ivory

I wake with a stiff neck, but I don’t mind when I feel a strong hold tighten on me.

Derek’s arm is wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest while he’s still asleep. If it weren’t for my full bladder, I’d close my eyes again and soak in the closeness we share. But eventually my body’s needs have me carefully wriggling free.

I’m surprised when Derek doesn’t wake.

He’s usually up before me, making breakfast and tea, but he was up almost all night. I could tell from the lilt in his voice that he hadn’t dozed off during Posies delivery.

She’s still asleep too, only lifting her head and blinking up at me through sleepy eyes when I return from the bathroom.

Tip-toeing over the wooden floor, I make my way to the kitchen and try to figure out how to prepare breakfast quietly. When my phone starts playing I’ll be waiting by Isak Danielson.

Shit.