Page 42 of Moonlight & Matrimony (Oak Ridge #2)

Luca

? Pillowtalk - Zayn

I stand back, admiring the natural woodwork of Ivy’s new art studio.

The light stains and neutral tones blend seamlessly with the abundance of light streaming through the large windows.

Rylin, perched on a small stool with her paintbrush in hand, carefully adds a few more haphazard brush strokes to a canvas of chaotic shapes and colors.

Her concentration is intense, her tiny tongue peeking out as she furiously dabs and blends.

“How’s it going, Bug?” I ask, crouching beside her.

“Good! Mommy’s gonna love it!” she says, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

“She sure is,” I agree. “Mommy should be here very soon. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for the big reveal.” She nods, hopping down from her perch and darting off down the hallway leading to her bedroom.

The first day was hectic, everyone running around in a frenzy trying to get the kids situated while attempting to execute the plan with a very limited amount of time.

Paige called to check on Sofia no less than thirty times that first day, until Mags finally took her phone away, promising to pass on any pertinent updates.

Ivy and Rylin had a few FaceTime calls, but for the most part, Ry wanted to be right in the thick of it, helping us in any way she could.

Thankfully, we had Evelyn to run interference when we needed to do some of the more dangerous tasks.

Uncle Miles might’ve been coerced into buying Rylin a tiny hard hat and pink tool belt at Sully’s Hardware, and even I have to admit, it might’ve been the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Ivy’s singsong voice carries down the hallway from the foyer.

Rylin’s head snaps toward the sound, and before I can even react, she’s wriggling out of my arms. One of her pant legs is still caught halfway up her ankle as she tugs them behind her, desperate to get to Ivy as fast as she can.

I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself, trailing close behind her, just in case she trips over her own feet.

“Mommy!” she cries, all but tackling Ivy to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

“Hi my little love. How was your weekend?”

Before Rylin can ruin the surprise, Evelyn saunters in from the backyard, a very excited Sage nearly knocking her off her feet when she tries to pass her in the hallway. I quickly snag her by the collar, halting her path of destruction. “Hold on, pup. Mom has her hands full.”

Evelyn rights herself, giving me a knowing look and a soft laugh. “Welcome home, Ivy Jo. Hope you girls had a great trip.”

“It was perfect,” Ivy replies with a sigh of contentment as she continues to hold Rylin.

“But I missed my girl,” she adds, her voice dropping into an affectionate tone as she tickles her daughter.

She rubs their noses together, and Rylin’s face lights up, her giggles filling the space.

A sharp pang lances straight through my chest, a familiar ache I can never seem to shake.

“I know you just got back, but I was hoping I could take Ry to get a milkshake before the weekend is over and she has to go back to daycare.” From my periphery, I catch Evelyn’s wink, and I nod in acknowledgement.

“Milkshake!” Rylin shouts, effectively distracted from spilling the beans about her weekend.

“That’s fine with me,” Ivy says, her voice low and laced with exhaustion. “I need to get unpacked and settled, anyway. We had so much fun, but I’m definitely worn out.”

Evelyn helps Rylin finish dressing, fixing the pants that never made it to her waist. She gives me a quick wave as they head out the door, Rylin’s hand already reaching for the handle, barely able to contain herself.

“Hey,” Ivy sighs, stepping into my space. Her proximity sets my body on fire; I missed her more than I realized. “How was she?” she asks.

“Rylin? She was an angel, as always.”

Ivy cocks a brow at me, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. “Ok, not an angel,” I concede, chuckling softly. “Wild and rambunctious as always. And perfectly well behaved, regardless. If you’re not too worn out, I have something I wanted to show you.”

“Ooook.” She eyes me warily, skepticism lacing her tone.

“Don’t sound so concerned. It’s a good thing.

Promise.” I reach out a hand, and after a brief hesitation, Ivy takes it.

Tugging her down the hallway, I glance back over my shoulder, looking for any sign that she’s piecing things together.

But all I see is a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Fuck, I missed her.

It’s not just her overall presence, but the little things, too — the way her glasses slip down her nose when she’s painting, the soft expression on her face when she listens to Rylin’s stories, and the way she picks at her thumb or bites her bottom lip when she’s nervous.

Then there’s the breathy way she says my name when she’s about to come, or the bossy tone she takes on when she’s not getting what she wants.

But all of it amounts to nothing in the end.

Despite all the reasons I’m drawn to her, I can’t let myself fall.

We reach the door to the studio, pausing with my hand on the knob.

I stare for a minute, admiring the quiet beauty in the curve of her lips, the smattering of freckles dotting her face, and the flecks of gold in her eyes that are so achingly familiar.

There’s something in the way she watches me; it’s as though she’s seeing me for the first time again.

“Alright, are you ready?” I ask, my body thrumming with anticipation. Ivy glares at me with a furrowed brow and something like amusement on her face.

“Ready,” she says.

I slowly push the door open, revealing the newly transformed space. The room is awash with the golden light of the setting sun, casting its glow along the pristine surfaces of the custom table and shelves. Ivy sucks in a sharp breath, her hands cupping her mouth as she takes in her new studio.

Custom-built shelves line the walls, each one meticulously organized, with neat rows of art supplies, and carefully arranged canvases.

The centerpiece is the new, oversized work table that dominates the back wall.

It’s made of smooth, natural wood, the surface reflecting the soft light, and it’s spacious enough to accommodate all of her projects at once without feeling cramped.

A cozy chair sits in the corner, upholstered in a deep maroon velvet fabric, perfect for the late-night sketches she’s always working on.

“Luca, you didn’t…”

“I did. Well, we did. I had lots of help.”

“Paige was right. There was something fishy going on!”

I laugh. “I never could get anything past my sister. How Cade ever pulled it off is a mystery to me.”

“Baby,” she whispers, a smile tugging at her lips as she uses the word only ever uttered in the deepest throes of passion. “It’s amazing. This is… wow.”

“I’m glad you like it.” My voice is husky as I strain to keep my arousal at bay.

She walks over to the table, trailing her fingers along the surface, then glancing up at the shelves, fully stocked with the same paints, brushes, and canvases I found tucked away in her box of art supplies.

Liam made a special trip to Willow Valley for extra supplies at my request. I had to promise I’d build Aiden a bunk bed, but it was well worth it to see the awestruck look on her face.

Her brows draw together, irises lined with unshed tears as her attention drifts to Rylin’s painting in its place of honor above her drafting table. “Rylin helped?” she asks.

“I couldn’t keep her away if I wanted to. She was the best little helper.” I hold out my phone, letting her scroll through photos of Rylin suited up with a tiny pink hammer in hand, helping Miles and Cade as they secured one of the shelves. Ivy laughs and the sound goes straight to my cock.

“Thank you, Luca. This is amazing. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

“I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I can think of a few ways.” I cock a brow at her, my gaze dipping to her lips as her face flushes. “Paint something for me.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush, and she quickly glances down.

For a fleeting moment, I regret my decision, until her eyes light up with a spark I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

She quickly throws her hair up in a haphazard knot and begins fluttering about the room, gathering up her supplies and setting them down on the table next to her easel, already perfectly positioned with a canvas at the ready.

I take a seat on a nearby stool, watching every movement as she sets up the palette, mixing and preparing each color with care. “What should I paint?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me.

“Anything you want,” I tell her.

Ivy

I’ve always let my emotions guide me when I’m painting, but right now, there are too many to analyze. How do you feel right now, Ivy Jo? Elated. Overwhelmed. Loved.

But it can’t be that last one. It’s too soon, and even if it was within the realm of possibility, I can’t go there — won’t go there.

So I take a moment to ground myself, closing my eyes and soaking in the warm light of the setting sun cascading through the floor to ceiling windows.

It smells like fresh paint and Luca. Home.

It takes me a minute to gather my thoughts before I dip my brush into a vibrant shade of blue — the exact color of Rylin’s eyes. I swipe the color along the canvas and let inspiration take hold.

A while later, I’m lost in a world of color when Luca walks up behind me, placing a glass of wine on the table to my left as he looks over the unfinished canvas.

His face is barely a breath away from mine and when I turn to face him, our noses brush ever so slightly.

I inhale sharply at the accidental graze.

I want to get lost in his touch. “What do you think?” I ask, attempting to guide us back onto solid ground.