None of that changes the fact that I want her here.
Just for a little while longer.
I turn, about to say something—anything that might nudge her in the direction of staying—when Lucy suddenly gasps dramatically, nearly knocking over her juice.
“Ivy should stay here!” she declares, like she’s just had the most brilliant idea in the world.
Ivy laughs, but shakes her head. “Oh, Lucy, I—”
“No, listen!” Lucy hops out of her chair and rushes over to Ivy, gripping her arm with both tiny hands. “You likeit here! And I like you being here! And you don’t have to sleep in a scary shower!”
Ivy glances at me, looking amused but also a little uncertain. “Lucy, that’s really sweet, but I—”
Lucy turns to me, eyes huge. “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”
Ivy gives me a wary look, clearly expecting me to swoop in and diffuse the situation, back up her reasoning, give her an easy out.
But I don’t.
Instead, I lean casually against the counter, arms crossed, and say, “Well, she’s got a point.”
Ivy blinks. “Wait, what?”
I shrug. “We’ve got the space. You’d be more than welcome to stay.”
Ivy’s eyes narrow slightly, like she’s waiting for me to follow up with some kind of teasing remark.
I don’t.
Because for once, I’m being completely serious.
She hesitates, fiddling with her fork. “Theo, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be,” I say easily. “It makes sense. You get a dry, warm bed. Lucy gets her new favourite person around for a little longer.” I smirk. “And I get the pure joy of reminding you that I was right about the whole ‘camping being a bad idea’ thing.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s something else in her expression. She’s considering it, but something’s holding her back.
I see it—the hesitation,the conflict.
But I also see the way her fingers still rest on the table, tapping lightly, like she’s talking herself out of something she wants.
So I make it easy for her.
“No pressure,” I say lightly, pushing off the counter. “It’s just an offer. If you’d rather get a B&B, I’ll still give you a lift.”
Lucy tugs on Ivy’s arm again. “Pleeeeease?”
Ivy lets out a long sigh, shaking her head—but she’s smiling.
“You guys are relentless,” she mutters.
I lean in slightly, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial tone. “And if you stay…” I pause for dramatic effect. “I’ll make homemade pizza.”
Ivy gives me aso whatlook, pretending to be unimpressed. “Oh, now you’re bribingme?”
“Absolutely.” I cross my arms. “I make a mean pizza.”
“What kind of toppings are we talking?”
