Of course, the guys won’t let Ivy lift a finger. If the four of us were less doting under ordinary circumstances, I’d say that was a dead giveaway, but those who’ve been around us don’t tend to notice a difference. It’s Celeste who tracks the guys’ movements with a scrutinizing eye. She watches as they amble by, kissing Ivy’s hair or asking if she needs anything while she’s tucked inside my arms. I’m sure, to others, it begs a myriad of questions, but to the men who spent years merely existing, she’s the one who stoked the spark of life back into their lives. She’s the one who’s growing a new
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