An older version of Saint stood in front of a tombstone with a little boy. A large bird perched on top of the tombstone and watched them with contempt. Saint had aged very well. He still had a huge frame and muscle. A few wrinkles decorated his cheeks, but not many. Gray touched his temples.
A little boy was on his right, holding his hand. He looked like Saint did when we were kids. The boy looked at him. “Grandpa, Mom said that you loved this woman.”
“I did.” Saint gazed at the tombstone. “She was an. . .amazing woman.”
The little boy looked at him. “Do you love Grandma too?”
Saint gave him a sad smile. “I do.”
“How is that possible? Mommy only loves Daddy.”
Saint sighed. “Ivan, love is a complicated concept—one I hope you end up better understanding than your old grandpa.”
The boy blinked and turned back to the tombstone. “Her name was Ivy.”
Saint nodded.
“Just like Mommy.”
“I always thought it was a beautiful name. Thankfully, your grandmother agreed, although it took some convincing.”
The little boy glanced over his shoulder. “Mommy said this is your house now?”
Saint didn’t turn around. “Not really, Ivan. We’re going to give it to Miss Ivy’s charity foundation. They will sell it and help mothers and children that need it more.”
“But I want to visit you at your new big castle.”
Saint chuckled and led them away. “Sorry, buddy. You’ll have to settle for the farmhouse. I thought you liked working in the garden with Grandma and helping me feed the chickens.”
“I do, but I like castles too, Grandpa.”
They walked off.
I stared at them.
The dark ghost appeared in front of me. “Look.”
I ignored him and gazed at Saint, wishing that I could go off with them. I wanted to see the farmhouse, the garden, and chickens. I wanted to know how Holly and Nikolas were doing too.
The ghost pointed to something behind me. “L-o-o-k.”
“I don’t want to look. I know what’s there. It’s my tombstone.”
The ghost floated closer to me.
“Okay. Okay.” I held my hands up and turned around.
There, my tombstone stood before me—cold and dark. Only my name was carved into it. No angels or flowers. No special quote or statement of love. Just my name on cold stone. Fresh flowers lay in front of it. Saint must’ve put them there. I doubted anyone else would’ve come to visit once he left. For some reason, that bothered me.
I swallowed. “That’s a damn lie. This isn’t my future. This isn’t. . .”
Other graves rose from the ground.
“What?” I looked at the names. “Why do all of these say, Ivy?”
Over and over, more rose. On each one was scribbled Ivy.
“Stop it!” I stumbled back. “I get it. I’m going to die. We’re all going to die. You don’t have to keep showing me over and over.”
Still, other tombstones with my name rose.
“Stop it!” I fell to the ground in front of him and grabbed at that creepy cloak. My fingers froze. Strange sensations slithered up my skin, but I didn’t let go of the fabric. “Stop it! Stop it! Take me back! Please! I got it!”
He gazed down and didn’t move.
My voice went low. Still gripping his robe, I stared at him. “Please, I understand.”Tears blurred my view. “Please.”
“Have you learned?”
My bottom lip quivered. “Y-yes.”
And then darkness swallowed me.Chapter 20
All I Want for Christmas is YouMy first clue of consciousness was huge, warm arms surrounding me. Next came Saint’s deep voice. “Please, wake up, Ivy.”
And I knew it wasn’t a dream. Nothing felt as good as Saint’s hold. He was all hard muscles and warmth.
I’m back? Dear God! I’m back.
In my mind, the nightmare evaporated, yet left a vile taste on my tongue.
Without opening my eyes, I hung on to those blissful seconds, breathing in his scent and thanking God for a second chance at saving my heart—my life. Eyes still closed, I snuggled further into him and smiled.
Holly whispered, “She’s up.”
When I opened my eyes, several faces greeted me. Holly, Nikolas, their parents, and in the center stood my father. I was back in Saint’s villa.
I blinked and gazed at him. “Dad. . .”
Fear covered his face.
My chest hurt. The gravestones from earlier flashed in my head. That dark fate terrified me. I wouldn’t let that be my future.
Okay. Okay. I learned my lesson. I. . .I have to push forward.
“Dad.” Swallowing, I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Baby girl, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He rushed to get to my side. A nervous laugh left his mouth. “Don’t you apologize for anything. Are you. . .are you okay?”
“How could I spend all these years pushing you away? Maybe I needed you. Perhaps I would have been better.” Shaking, I scanned the room. “Then I wouldn’t have buried you on my property without any closure.”
Dad looked around as if hoping someone could explain my statement.