“Smart-ass.”
He steps back into the kitchen, thanking Jacob and Irene and apologizing for interrupting dinner.
And then he’s gone.
And another chapter closes.
“You are not that lucky,” Ivy mutters into my ear.
I laugh as I turn and scoop her into my arms, pulling her against me.
“Oh yeah? Think I should go correct his mistake?”
“Don’t you even think about leaving me,” she murmurs, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me.
“Alright, alright,” Jacob growls behind us, breaking us apart again.
He wags a finger at me. “Watch those hands under my roof, son,” he says with an arched brow and a grin on his face.
Ivy goes bright red.
“Shall we eat?”
Irene steps onto the back porch with a tray of barbecue chicken.
We follow her and Jacob down the steps and through the yard to the big wooden table - Rowan, Stella and Carter, Sierra, and Ivy.
And me.
All together, sitting at one table, eating one family meal.
Exactly how I remember.
And damn is it perfect.
Chapter Forty-Two
Ivy
I wake up in the morning to the smell of bacon.
Yep, I’m home.
I feel like I’ve been thinking about how much this feels like home ever since I got here, except it hasn’t quite been there. It hasn’t quite felt perfect until this very morning, because something was missing.
And no, it wasn’t bacon cooking.
It’s the man I know is sleeping on the couch down in the basement rec room.
Silas, of course.
Yes, I’m twenty-six years old. Yes, I’m a grown adult woman capable of having mature, adult relationships. Yes I’m married, for crying out loud. But my dad letting Silas Hart share a bed with me under his roof?
Not in a million years.
Some things never do change.
I swing my legs out of bed and stretch, glancing at the phone still lying on the pillow next to where I slept and feeling my face get red. He might have been on the couch downstairs, but that didn’t stop a very steamy string of texts followed by a hushed, gasping phone conversation to take place anyways.
I pull on my old softball t-shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants, ducking my face in front of a mirror and doing…something with my hair before I open my bedroom door and head downstairs. The smell of bacon, pancakes, and sweet, sweet coffee hits my nostrils, getting stronger with every step.
The hallway door to the basement cracks open as I get to the bottom of the stairs, and I stop and grin at the sleepy, bleary-eyed man still pulling a shirt on that steps out into the light.
“Hey sleeping beauty.”
He jumps at the sound of my voice before he turns and grins at me.
“Hey yourself, gorgeous.”
He glances behind him at the sound of voices down the hall in the kitchen before he pulls me against him, kissing my lips.
I wink at him. “You look tired. Did you sleep well?”
Silas’s eyes flash at mine as he pulls me against him again. “Someone kept me up, actually.”
“Oh?” I smile innocently.
“You know,” he murmurs. “This someone has developed quite a dirty little mouth since the last time I had phone calls like that with her.”
I blush scarlet at the memory of the night before.
“And I can’t wait to learn more about it,” he growls, his hand sliding up my side and brushing against my breast.
“Breakfast!”
The sound of my mother’s voice calling from the kitchen has us jumping apart. We both catch it and roll our eyes, realizing we’re still acting like this is some sort of illicit teen romance instead of the two married adults we actually are.
We turn towards the kitchen, but I stop short, frowning at what’s sitting in the foyer by the front door.
“Who’s are those?”
Two suitcases - one jet black and silver and very important looking and the other a very expensive Prada bag lie next to each other in the middle of the floor by the door.
I turn to see Silas looking as puzzled as I am.
“No idea?” He grins. “Maybe it’s for us? Think they’re trying to tell us something?”
I laugh. “Yeah, right. Irene would have us live here if we’d go for it.”
“Would that still entail me spending every fucking night on that shitty sofa downstairs?”
I nod. “Most certainly.”
Silas laughs before taking my hand. “C’mon, lets go get some coffee.”
The sound of laughter and boisterous conversation gets louder and louder until we step into the kitchen and-
And my jaw drops.
“Kyle?!” I scream as my youngest brother looks up from his pancakes and jumps up from his chair.
“Slimy! You’re up!”
I shriek as I jump into his arms before looking over his shoulder and noticing a gorgeous, elegantly dressed girl who I’ve definitely seen in tabloid magazines.