July 30th, 2016
I sighed as I sat on the couch basically twiddling my freaking thumbs and not having a clue what to do with myself. For the last fifteen minutes, I’d been doing this, and still, I had no solution for my restlessness.
Luckily, my phone pinged with a text message, and I snagged it off the coffee table to find a text from my mom.
Mom: How are you feeling today, sweetheart?
I smiled as I typed out a response.
Me: I’m doing pretty good. Still dealing with some nausea in the morning, but no puking, so that’s a big freaking win in my book.
Mom: That’s great news. God, I can remember being sick as a dog when I was pregnant with you and Cami. It was miserable for practically my entire pregnancy.
Me: I didn’t know that.
Mom: Oh, yeah. Hell had taken up residence in my throat during that pregnancy.
Me: LOL
Mom: But it was all worth it in the end. ☺ You know, I had a dream about Camilla last night.
Me: Really? What happened?
Mom: We were sitting on my bed just talking about you and your pregnancy. She was excited about the babies and said she thinks you’re going to have girls.
Simultaneously, my heart warmed and ached as I read the message.
It was all so bittersweet.
I was beyond ecstatic about this pregnancy, but I was also sad my sister wasn’t here to meet her nieces or nephews.
Which I’d decided to wait until the babies were born to find out what we were having. I wasn’t normally the biggest fan of surprises, but for this, I was one hundred percent invested in waiting. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be surprised.
Maybe, deep down, I wanted this surprise because I knew it wouldn’t end in tragedy.
No matter if our babies were boys or girls, it would be the surprise of a lifetime.
With my fingers to my phone, I typed out a message.
Me: Your dream makes my heart happy and a little sad at the same time. Mostly happy, though.
Mom: I felt the same way about it when I woke up this morning.
Me: I just wish my babies could have met their awesome aunt.
Mom: At least we can tell them about her.
Me: Yes. ☺ And show them pictures and videos and pretty much anything else I can think of. Even though she’s not here physically, to me, she’ll always be here in spirit. Cami is a part of me. Always and forever.
Mom: I love everything about this, Ivy. So much.
Me: Me too, Mom. Me too.
Mom: Okay, sweetheart, well, your dad and I have some errands to run. I just wanted to check in with you, but I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you, sweetheart.
Me: Love you too, Mom.
Smiling to myself, I set my phone down on the coffee table and stood up.
But when I got to my feet, I realized I had nowhere to go.
Nowhere to be.
I was stuck here…inside this freaking house.
Restlessness back in full force, the familiar tinglings of annoyance started to filter into my veins, and the happiness high from chatting with my mom dropped like a rock.
God, I just wanted to get out of this house.
I wanted to breathe in the fresh air.
I wanted to take a walk with Levi and enjoy the California sun.
But ever since we’d left the hotel and tried to settle down in my house in Beverly Hills, I’d felt like a prisoner inside of my own home.
News had broken about my pregnancy, and the media firestorm had only grown.
They were hungry for every little detail.
They wanted to know about my pregnancy.
They wanted photos of my ever-growing belly.
They wanted to insert themselves as much as they could into our lives.
I wasn’t new to what life was like when you were in the public eye, and a lot of things I understood and had no issues handling, but this was another level. An intolerable, chaotic, irritating level that made me hesitant to even leave my house.
Levi had added another security guy to our team, bringing the ridiculous total to five, but it just didn’t matter.
We were in the Hollywood stronghold, where paparazzi were everywhere, waiting and watching in the wings, and it was damn near impossible to do anything without them on our asses, shoving their lenses in our faces and shouting intrusive questions about our lives.
Once we’d gotten home from our trip to Cold a few weeks ago, I thought moving back in to my house would be a step in the right direction. I thought it would be good for me to be surrounded by memories of Cami. And I thought we’d find peace being able to live out of a closet versus a suitcase, but my assumptions had been entirely incorrect on the latter.
I paced the hardwood floor of my entryway before turning in the opposite direction and heading out onto the back terrace. The pool shimmered and shone and looked so inviting, but nearly five months along with twins and I was starting to feel too damn pregnant to float around in the water like a beached whale.
I sat down on the edge of the pool and dangled my bare feet in the warm water. Leaning back on my elbows, I shut my eyes and let the sun wash over my face.
It was in these moments of rest that I realized just how tired I really was.
I’d spent the earlier part of the day chatting with my agent, Jason, about a script he’d sent over. It was a thriller about a CIA agent who goes rogue because she’s been framed for a murder she didn’t commit.
It had intrigued me from the start, and it was the first time since my sister had passed that I was actually considering taking on a new project.
And if the director could wait to shoot it until next year, I’d most likely be the actress playing the lead role.
It was truly ironic how a movie I didn’t even want to see released had essentially taken my career to a point where I was in high demand for dozens of roles. Directors didn’t even ask for me to audition.
Cold was well down its path toward its big debut to the public. The studio had even started revealing it to movie critics and the like, and the overwhelming opinion was that it would be one of the best movies of the year.
I both loved and hated it.
I was over the moon that I’d done Grace justice. That all of the hard work and struggle I’d gone through to bring her to life on screen hadn’t been for naught.
But I still despised that a movie that had ended in my sister’s death was going to be shown to the world, and I didn’t have a fucking say in the matter.
The terrace door opened and shut, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Levi walking toward me. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just trying to get some fresh air,” I said and squinted up at him. “How was your meeting with Hugo?”
A couple of weeks ago, Hugo Roman had contacted Levi directly about a cop drama he was directing that he wanted Levi’s expertise on.
Levi had been shocked to the say the least, but eventually, he’d agreed to a meeting.
“It went really well.” He smiled, slipped off his shoes and socks and rolled up the legs of his jeans before sitting down beside me and placing his feet in the water. “We talked about the script, and I didn’t know this, but Robert De Niro has been cast to play the police chief.”
“Hot damn, De Niro?” I asked and grinned. “Sounds like you’re about to go all Hollywood, Mr. Fox.”
“I’m not going all Hollywood, smartass.” He reached into the pool and flicked a few drops of water in my direction, and I laughed. “But I think, in terms of this film, there’s definitely something I can bring to the table. So, I’ll probably do it. Plus, Hugo is adamant. Apparently, I made an impression on him when I was on set for Cold.”
“Well, you certainly made an impression on me when you were there,” I said and smiled over at him. “I mean, at first, I pretty much hated you. But now? Look at me. I’m all knocked up with your babies. You certainly have a way of leaving your mark.”
He chuckled at that and reached out to place a wet hand to my belly. The water soaked through my tank top, but I didn’t mind. It was nearly ninety degrees outside. The cooldown was much appreciated. “How are my babies doing today?”
“Good and very busy kicking my rib cage.”
“And how’s their beautiful momma?”
“A little bit stressed.”
He quirked a brow. “Stressed? What about?”
I sighed. “I thought things would be easier once we moved out of the hotel and into the house, but they’re not, Levi. The media, the fucking paparazzi, right now, it’s just too damn intolerable. I feel like I can’t even walk outside without someone taking pictures and shouting questions at me. Like, I’m literally having insanely weird dreams about delivering the babies, and the doctor ends up being a journalist taking pictures of my vagina.”
He barked out a laugh. “That’s fucking terrifying.”
“I know, right?” I responded through a soft laugh. “But…I don’t know… I think maybe LA isn’t the best place for us to be right now.”
“You want to move out of LA?”
“Maybe?” I shrugged. “I mean, would you be okay with that?”
“Baby,” he said, and his gaze turned earnest. “I want you to be happy and feel at peace in our home. And if you’re not happy here, then I say we start shopping around and see if we can find a little less-busy place to settle down.”
“Really?” I questioned. “You’d move? Just like that? Again?”
“Of course I would,” he answered. “A house is just a fucking house, baby. You’re my home.”
I damn near swooned at his words.
“Sometimes, Levi Fox, you really do say some swoony shit.” I leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. “Which is one of about a million reasons why I love you very much.”
He grinned. “A million, huh? That’s a lot.”
“And the more I think about it, the more I’m certain on this whole moving thing,” I answered honestly, ignoring his expedition for more compliments. “Do you mind if I contact some Realtors?”
“Not at all,” he said and stood to his feet. “It’s your world, baby. I’m just thankful you let me live in it.”
Fucking hell. Levi Fox was a man of many talents, but this last one was a surprise.
He had an uncanny ability, when it came to me, to suck up.