May 15th, 2016
Last night, I’d watched Ivy thrive within her parents’ comfortable and loving web of company. I’d watched her cry and grieve too, but mostly, I’d seen her smile and laugh and just be the feisty, quick-witted, beautiful woman I loved so much.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Ivy really laugh or smile like she had while joking around with her dad.
The evening had been so needed, we hadn’t gotten back to the hotel until well after midnight. And the instant Ivy’s head had hit the pillow, she’d been out like a light. The complete opposite of the restless nights that had become a constant for her since Camilla’s death.
God, it had been a rough month and a half.
So much tragedy.
So many obstacles.
So much pain.
I’d seen Ivy at her lowest of lows. I’d seen her break down. I’d seen her lose control. I’d seen her unable to control her emotions and impulsively lash out.
But after last night, to me, it felt like something was slowly changing inside of her.
And it gave me hope.
I stared out the window of the bedroom. The white curtains were pulled off to the side, and the sun’s first rays cresting the horizon hinted at its arrival.
I glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it was only a little after seven in the morning.
Considering I hadn’t actually fallen asleep until a little after two, it was probably way too early to be awake. But I was a creature of habit. I blamed years of early morning patrol shifts.
Ivy, on the other hand, wasn’t much of an early riser and would probably sleep until noon if I let her.
She stirred beside me in the bed, and I turned on my side to look at her.
Her long lashes fanned down over her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted as soft, steady breaths moved in and out of her lungs.
As I drank her in, my gaze staring in complete awe of her beauty, I was certain I’d never grow tired of this. I’d love this woman for the rest of my life. I was sure of it. She was the one and only person I wanted to love for the rest of my days and nights.
Hell, I wasn’t sure a lifetime with Ivy would be enough, but I sure as fuck would try to make the best of it. And, one day in the hopefully near future, I was going to marry this woman.
I was going to put my ring on her finger, and a few years down the road, I was going to put my babies in her belly.
My heart was hers.
Ivy belonged with me.
And, no doubt, I belonged with her.
I brushed a soft strand of blond hair from her forehead, and even though her eyelashes fluttered a little in response, her body stayed lax in sleep.
God, I would do anything for this woman.
I’d permanently quit the police force.
I’d move to California.
I’d start from scratch if it meant being with her for forever.
And the craziest thing of all, those things—that used to be big things—only paled in comparison to what it meant to have Ivy in my life.
I wanted and needed and loved her with everything I had.
Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth because I couldn’t help myself.
When I pulled back, I found Ivy’s sleepy green eyes staring back at me.
“What are you doing?” she asked, voice raspy with sleep.
“Kissing you.”
“Isn’t it a little early for kisses, Levi?”
I shook my head. “There’s never a bad time when it comes to kissing you.”
Ivy giggled at that and glanced over my shoulder to check the time. “Jesus, it’s like seven in the morning. It’s way too early to be awake right now.”
“Speak for yourself, night owl,” I retorted. “This feels like sleeping in to me.”
She groaned and turned over on her other side, her back facing me. “Let me sleep, you crazy person.”
I moved toward her and wrapped my arm around her front, pulling her warm little body back against my chest. “I think you should wake up,” I whispered into her ear.
A few moments of silence filled the room, and I just cuddled her body into mine and savored the feel of her within my embrace.
I was fully prepared for her to moan and groan and try to swat me away, but to my surprise, Ivy turned back around, and those pretty green eyes of hers locked with mine.
“Hi,” she whispered, and I smiled.
Blond hair a mess, eyes still a little sleepy, and face natural, she was so fucking beautiful it damn near made my chest ache.
“Hi, baby.”
“I actually slept last night,” she said, and I nodded.
“You did. I’m glad. I know you needed it.”
“I even dreamed.”
I quirked a brow. “Oh, really? What’d you dream about?”
She was quiet for a long moment and she worried her lip with her teeth, but eventually, she opened up to me. “I had a dream about Camilla. We were sitting inside the kitchen of our house. Here in LA, I mean. I was cooking breakfast for us, eggs and bacon and coffee. And she just looked and sounded so damn happy. I don’t even remember what we were talking about in the dream, but it felt so real, Levi. It felt so, so real. Do you think that’s possible?” she asked. “Do you think our loved ones can come talk to us through our dreams?”
“Yeah, actually, I do,” I answered honestly. After Grace had died, I’d had more than a few dreams like that.
“Me too,” she whispered and rubbed her little nose against mine. “Can we do something today?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I know it’s going to take some arranging with security and transportation and I know I’m going to have to wear some sort of disguise because of the stupid paparazzi, but today, I want to get out and enjoy the sun. And mostly, I want to take some flowers to Camilla’s grave.”
“I like this plan,” I said because I did.
Ivy hadn’t been to her sister’s gravesite since the funeral. It hadn’t been out of neglect. She just wasn’t ready.
But today, she was, and I felt so much relief in that. Like we were really rounding a corner toward her new normal.
And, as odd as it might have sounded to someone else, I felt like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet because I’d get to be there for Ivy, at the cemetery.
Often regarded as creepy or uncomfortable, they weren’t the natural order of a place of worship. Thanks to my history with Grace, their expansive space felt different to me.
It was sacred and loving, and it was as close to holy as I’d ever get.
And today’s visit—the first visit—would mean even more.
I would get to watch her pick out flowers for her sister. I would be the one to soothe her anxious chatter in the car on our way there. The one who would get to hold her nervous hand as we walked toward Camilla’s grave.
I was her man. Her shoulder to cry on. Her pillar of strength in her times of weakness. And her biggest fucking cheerleader.
I was certain no man had ever loved a woman as much as I loved Ivy, and together, today, we’d share a moment with Camilla—and God.