Chapter 687
She pressed her lips together, glancing at him before quickly looking away. “You’ve been so busy lately. I bet you haven’t had time to hit the gym.”
“True. At this rate, I’m losing all my muscle,” Jamison replied, chuckling at himself. Then he glanced up at Ivy, a playful glint in his eyes. “What, are you starting to find me unattractive?”
She rolled her eyes. “Even if I did, what does it matter? It’s not like we can do anything with it…” The last bit came out in a barely audible mumble.
But Jamison caught it anyway. He grinned, that irresistible, mischievous smile of his lighting up his face. “And here I thought I was the only one frustrated. Looks like you do have a heart after all.”
For the past couple of weeks, they’d shared a bed every night–more time together than in all their married life so far. The first week, when Ivy was badly hurt, Jamison had been so worried about her that he hadn’t thought about anything else. But as Ivy recovered, he’d pushed the guest bed aside and started sleeping next to her. Lying beside her every night, it was impossible not to let his thoughts wander.
But there was a problem. Ivy was on medication to block the risk of infection–she’d been exposed to HIV. So for all this time, not only had they refrained from being intimate, they hadn’t even kissed. At most, they’d hold hands, touch each other’s faces, maybe steal a hug through layers of clothes.
Who could understand the torment? To be young, newly in love, seeing each other every day, and yet unable to act on that closeness. The frustration gnawed at him, and the worst part was, there was no end in sight.
Jamison kept himself busy at work, hoping that exhaustion would help him sleep at night, keep his mind off the ache he couldn’t ease.
Meanwhile, Ivy seemed as calm as a monk, utterly unbothered, as if she’d transcended all earthly desires. If it weren’t for the warmth and longing in her eyes whenever she looked at him, Dr. Ludwig would have started questioning whether his wife still loved him at all.
So when she finally brought up the topic–however awkwardly–Jamison’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted nothing more than to prove, right then and there, that his muscles still had their uses.
But, of course, all he could do was imagine.
Ivy’s cheeks flushed at his teasing. She shot him a look. “Go shower, would you? You’ve had a long day. Get some rest. And stop thinking about things you shouldn’t.”
Jamison put on an exaggerated pout. “I wasn’t thinking about anything until you brought it up.”
“My mistake. Happy now?” Ivy replied, as if placating a sulky child.
Jamison couldn’t help himself–he leaned in, aiming for a kiss.
“Nope.” Ivy pressed a palm to his chin, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t get carried away. Three more months, at least.”
Not half a year, but three months was her absolute minimum–she wouldn’t budge.
Jamison protested, “The risk is basically nonexistent now.”
“I said no!” She was firm. She wouldn’t let a moment of weakness endanger her health.
Jamison could only sigh in defeat and head for the bathroom.
Watching him go–broad shoulders, narrow waist, that powerful, athletic build, every movement radiating strength–Ivy couldn’t help letting out a silent sigh herself.
Truth be told, she’d only been thinking about this tonight because of Katrina. Her friend had been regaling her with stories about Mr. Wilson–stories full of heat and passion. Mr. Wilson was experienced, with a string of exes behind him, while Katrina was new to all of this and often out of her depth.
Whenever Katrina mentioned him, she’d blush and stammer, leaving Ivy’s mind to wander.
The thing about intimacy–if you’ve never tasted it, you don’t miss it. But once you’ve had it, the craving lingers. It’s addictive.
That’s how it was for women. For men, who seemed wired for this, it was even worse.
No wonder Dr. Ludwig was suffering.
By the time Jamison returned from his shower, Ivy had put down her book and was settled under the covers. They lay down together. Jamison glanced over looking thoroughly dejected.
Ivy just laughed softly, her voice playful and full of mischief. “If you’re really that uncomfortable, I could help you out, you know?”
Jamison arched a brow, surprised. “Oh? How exactly would you do that?”
She wiggled her fingers at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Jamison snorted. “Please. I have hands of my own, thank you very much.”
Ivy went red all over. “Just go to sleep!”
They lay facing each other, eyes open in the dark, quietly lost in their own thoughts. As the silence settled, feelings they’d been pushing aside all day resurfaced.
After a long pause, Jamison spoke, his voice low and gentle. “I’ll be with you for the whole surgery tomorrow.”
He worried she’d be heartbroken about losing the baby, that her emotions would spiral out of control.
But Ivy shook her head, refusing softly. “No, it’s okay. I can handle it myself.”
She’d had time to process it over the last couple of days.
Adela and Davina had both called to check in. Ivy didn’t know if Jamison had put them up to it, but even his mother–who’d always wanted a grandchild–told her not to take risks, to focus on her health, that she was still young and there would be plenty of chances.
It had surprised her.
Davina, too, shared that before her oldest was born, she’d suffered a miscarriage, but had gone on to have three more children.
The message was clear: don’t worry. Take care of yourself, and there’s always hope for the future.
Through all this, Ivy felt the warmth and support of the Ludwig family, and it gave her the strength and courage to face what lay ahead.
“Don’t worry,” she said gently. “I’ve already grieved. I won’t fall apart tomorrow. Just wait for me outside, okay?”
Seeing how strong she was, Jamison’s heart ached even more. He added, “Honestly, it’s not the right time anyway. You’re still in school, you want a career…In a couple of years, once things settle down, we can try again.”