Page 14 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

Massive G and Wonky I

Theo

L ucy smacks the water with both hands, sending a wave over the side of the bath and straight into my lap. Warm, soapy water seeps through my jeans. Fantastic. Exactly what I wanted.

She grins at me, triumphant. “Again!”

I shake my head, flicking water from my sleeve. “If you flood this place, we’re moving into a tent.”

She giggles and kicks her feet, making the rubber duck do an unnecessary backflip. Then, just as quickly, she goes quiet.

Her fingers trail absently over the edge of a floating boat. “Where’s Ivy?”

I shift, leaning my arm on the edge of the tub. “She’s still busy with work.”

Lucy frowns. “She was s’posed to come to yoga.” Lu wasn’t the only one who was disappointed when we received the text from Ivy that she had to skip class this week. But she made sure we knew she hadn’t given up on yoga.

“She was,” I say, pulling out my phone. “But she still did some at home.” I open Ivy’s message and show her the proof—a blurry photo of Ivy mid-tree pose, in her living room, looking half-asleep but determined.

Lucy studies it with all the seriousness of a judge on one of those dance shows. “She’s still not very good.”

I snort. “No, she’s not. But she’s trying and that is all that matters.”

“She wobbles more than you.”

“Well, yeah, because I’ve been doing it a lot longer than her,” I say, nudging her gently. “She’s still learning.”

Lucy nods but doesn’t drop it. She leans her damp head against my arm, voice small. “When’s she coming back?”

I exhale slowly, reaching for the towel and wrapping it around her before scooping her up.

“Dunno,” I say, keeping it light. “Soon, probably.”

I carry Lucy out of the bathroom, her damp curls sticking to my shoulder as she cuddles up. I drop her down on her bed and she gently bounces on the mattress. Lu giggles rolling herself tighter into the towel.

“Can we call her?” she asks, tilting her head back to look at me, eyes hopeful.

I grab her pyjamas from the drawer and shake my head. “She’s probably still working, Ladybug. Let’s text her instead, yeah? Then she can reply when she’s free.”

She thinks it over, then nods. “Okay.”

I sit beside her on the bed and open the chat. Lu is peering at the screen like she can actually read it all.

Me

Lucy’s asking after you. Still surviving?

Lucy watches the screen with wide eyes, like she expects Ivy to burst out of it at any moment. A few seconds later, the little typing bubble appears.

Ivy

Barely. Work is hell. Also, I have a cold. Kill me now.

I wince. Yeah, definitely not reading that out loud.

Lucy tugs at my sleeve. “What did she say?”

I clear my throat, adjusting the message slightly as I read it aloud. “She says work is really busy and… she’s got a cold.”

Lucy gasps dramatically, clutching my arm. “She’s sick?”

I bite back a grin. “It’s just a cold, Lu. She’ll be fine.”

“But we have to help her!” she insists, wriggling into her pyjama bottoms with sudden urgency.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, helping her getting the pyjama top on. “And how exactly do we do that?”

She pauses, thinking hard, then brightens. “Soup! You always make me soup when I am ill.”

I chuckle as she places her arms around my neck. “Right.”

She nods seriously. “And a card.”

I sigh, already knowing there’s no way I’m getting out of this. I’m also considering it not one of Lucy’s worst ideas. Ivy lives only around the corner and soup is the universal cure for the common cold .

“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “Maybe we can take her some of the chicken soup I made last week. I’ll defrost it.”

Lucy cheers like I’ve just told her we’re off to save the world. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirm, ruffling her damp curls. “But first, we need to get you dry unless you want to catch a cold too.”

For once, she holds still while I blow dry her hair, sitting patiently on my bed. She must be really invested in this mission. Once her dark curls are mostly dry, she wriggles out from under my hands and scrambles to her little craft box.

“I’ll make her a card!” she announces, dragging out paper, crayons, and a pile of stickers.

I leave her to it while I head to the kitchen, popping the frozen soup into the microwave to thaw. The apartment fills with the familiar scent of garlic and herbs as I watch the pot moving in circles, keeping half an ear on Lucy’s occasional huffs and mutters from the living room.

When I check on her, she’s sprawled across the floor, tongue poking out in concentration as she adds the finishing touches to her drawing. She finally sits back and holds it up proudly.

I study it, biting back a laugh. It’s… definitely a drawing. Ivy is there, curvy with a wild bun and what appears to be a massive red nose. Next to her, there’s a wobbly bowl of soup (at least, I think it’s soup).

I press my lips together. “That’s brilliant, Ladybug.”

She beams. “She’s sick, so I made her nose big.”

“Yeah, I got that.” I tap the paper. “What’s this bit?”

“The soup.”

I got that right then.

She stares at it, then frowns. “I need words. ”

“Go for it,” I say, turning back to the stove.

She picks up a crayon, presses it to the paper—then stops. “I don’t know how.”

I smirk. “Want me to do it for you?”

Her eyes go wide with horror. “No! I have to do it.”

“Right, of course.” I grab a separate sheet of paper and a pen, crouching beside her. “I’ll write it here, and you can copy it.”

I print Get well, Ivy in clear, bold letters. Lucy leans in, nose practically touching the page, as she carefully copies each letter onto her card. The G is massive, the I is wonky, and the V looks like a seagull, but she gets there in the end.

She leans back, inspecting her work. “That’s good.”

I nod solemnly. “It’s perfect.”

Satisfied, she folds up the card while I finish packing the soup and some bread rolls into a tote bag. She can wear her pyjamas for the short distance but even if it is a mild June evening, I grab a light jacket for Lu before we head out.

We stroll the short distance to Ivy’s building, Lucy practically bouncing with excitement. When we reach the coffee shop below her flat, I steer her inside for a quick detour.

She gives me a suspicious look as I grab a slice of lemon drizzle cake from the counter. “We’re just bringing soup,” she reminds me.

“And cake,” I correct. “Because even sick people need dessert.”

She considers this, then nods. “True.”

Armed with our care package, we step outside and turn to the entrance to the flats above the café. I press the intercom, and after a second, her tired voice crackles through the speaker .

“Hello?”

Before I can say a word, Lucy stretches up on her toes and shouts, “IVY! WE brOUGHT YOU SOUP!”

There’s a pause over the intercom, and for a second, I think Ivy might refuse. Then, with a crackly sigh, she says, “Come up.”

I exchange a look with Lucy, who grins in victory, before we push through the door and head up the stairs. When Ivy opens her flat door, she looks—well, pretty much like Lucy’s drawing.

Dark rings under her eyes. A flushed, pinkish nose that rivals the one on the card. Her hair is tied in what I assume was a bun at some point but is now just a lopsided mess. She’s wrapped in a huge hoodie, which seems out of place on this warm evening.

She catches me looking and straightens up. “I’m fine,” she says before I can get a word in. “No fever, no cough, just a bit of a stuffy nose. I barely even feel ill anymore.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, unimpressed.

“Promise,” she insists, sniffling slightly before giving Lucy a tired smile. “Thanks for the soup, Lu. That was very sweet of you.”

Lucy holds up the card proudly. “I made this too!”

Ivy takes it, eyes widening slightly as she takes in the artistic rendering of herself. She chuckles, voice still a little hoarse. “Wow, this is very… accurate.”

Lucy nods eagerly. “Your nose is really red.”

Ivy snorts, then winces like she regrets it. “Yeah, well. It’s been through a lot.” She folds the card carefully, but something about the way she shifts in the doorway feels… off.

She hasn’t moved to let us in .

I glance past her shoulder. The flat isn’t a mess or anything that I can see. Maybe I made a mistake bringing Lucy.

I open my mouth to suggest we leave when Lucy suddenly gasps and points past Ivy.

“Look at all the Santas!”