I hadn't planned on it happening, but it was a good test to see how far Mercedes had come. They are the two most important women in my life, and I would like them to find some common ground. But so far it appears the only thing they’ve found is a deeper resentment of one another. I don't know what Mercedes said to her, but it was impossible to miss the expression on Judge’s face when he took her by the arm and led her away. She would be punished for whatever it was.

Security follows us through the gate to The Manor, and Marco opens up Ivy's door for her when I park. I hand the keys off to him, and when I slip my hand onto Ivy's lower back, she pauses to look up at me. Her eyes are hard, conflicted. And I find that it is exhausting trying to figure her out.

"Let's go inside," I murmur.

She pivots forward, silently stalking through the front door and up the stairs while I trail along beside her. When we reach my room, she breaks away to grab a nightgown from the closet before she storms into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.

I wait for her, hands stuffed into my pockets. Five minutes pass. Then ten. And I'm losing my goddamned patience. I don't know how to deal with these emotions. The pregnancy book said mood swings are to be expected, but I've been trying to put her at ease, and so far it appears my efforts have been in vain.

When she finally returns to the room, she walks straight to the bed without looking at me and climbs in, tucking the covers around her.

"Would you care to explain why you're acting like a petulant child?" I demand.

"That's rich." She turns to glare at me. "Coming from you. Why don't you just go hole yourself up in your office, or whatever it is you do. No point sitting in here when you won't even sleep in the bed with me. I can assure you your child will be just fine without you looming over us."

"Our child," I correct her because it's the only thing I can think to say. On this point, she has been adamant, so I don't know why she seems insistent on reminding me otherwise now.

"I'm just the vessel, remember?" She bites out. "Your host."

"Fucking Christ." I drag a hand through my hair and turn away, trying to rein in my temper. "I don't know what you want from me, Ivy. I've been trying. Can you not see that?"

She doesn't reply, and I hear her sniff, but I can't look at her right now. I can't bear to see her disgust, her hatred. Every time I think we might actually be making progress, another clusterfuck presents itself.

I move toward the door without looking back, voice solemn when I speak.