Ronan showed up at the apartment on Saturday morning, dressed down for once, no suit, no careful armor of tailored fabric, just a plain shirt and the kind of nervous energy Ivy had never seen from him before.
"You don't have to do this," she said, standing in the doorway, watching him shift his weight from foot to foot on the small landing outside her apartment.
"I do, actually." He held up a small paper bag, the smell of fresh pastries drifting out of it. "Your mother deserves an apology in person, not secondhand through you. And I'd rather she meet me properly before deciding what kind of man she thinks I am."
Ivy studied him for a long moment, something warm blooming in her chest despite the nerves twisting there too. "She might not be easy on you."
"I wouldn't expect her to be." So
