Chapter Twenty-One
Jace
So, her brother is back.
Walking swiftly back to Angie’s apartment—or at least, as swiftly as Emmy’s legs can keep up after she insisted she could walk once we got outside—I cringe.
It’s been a long day and an emotional trainwreck—the likes of which I haven’t been on in a long time.
Seeing Ivy so happy about winning the contest made me realize that if I could choose anything I wanted for the future, all I’d want to do for the rest of my life is make sure she smiles as much as she did tonight.
We were the type of team that made me believe winning would be found in being together.
Freddie’s arrival instantly diminished the momentum I felt as we approached the upcoming holiday.
He could easily take my place and cause any contribution of mine to not only vanish but also be unwelcome.
He can help her finish the sets. He can walk her home from rehearsals.
Understandably, she may not have as much time for Emmy and me this coming week.
When I learned Ivy’s last name, I was able to familiarize myself with her family tree.
Her brother is an actual, national hero.
I looked him up and discovered that he was awarded a Silver Star Medal for valor in combat.
Once, Freddie warned me to stay away from Ivy, and of course, she’s going to listen to her hero-brother over me.
Once we return to Angie’s, I put my troubling thoughts aside with a sigh.
I boil pasta for a pot of homemade mac and cheese.
The hour is later than Emmy usually eats dinner, but I didn’t have time to make anything before the gingerbread house contest, and I’m hoping the sugar was able to hold her over until I can feed her a proper meal, although I know that’s as likely as me fitting into a size small shirt.
Emmy is practicing her dance in the living room, the song playing from my phone on repeat. My mind is racing. If I could, I would go to In the Ring to get some nervous energy out, but I know how that ended last time. My knuckles still have light-pink marks on their edges.
“Bro, what are you doing?” Angie walks in, a clump of flour stuck to her hairline.
Her eyes blink against the overhead kitchen light.
I wet a paper towel and stand over her, wiping the white smudge away.
“Thanks,” she says gratefully. “I was so tired after working on those extra pie orders for the holidays that I came home and crashed.”
“Sorry if we woke you up.”
“You didn’t. I set an alarm so I would eat something, shower, and not wake up at four in the morning.”
“Auntie A!” Emmy yells, registering that her aunt has joined us.
“Hey, kiddo.” My sister lifts her up and holds her tight.
Emmy immediately relaxes in her arms. “Will you braid my hair right now?” Her little hands frame my sister’s face, and I see the love between them.
Angie has been amazing during this transition. My daughter may not have her mother, and she may not ever have Ivy as more than a dance teacher, but she’s deeply loved.
“Of course I will! Get the things!” Angie sets her feet on the floor, and Emmy runs off to grab her hairbrush and what I know will be all kinds of sparkly hair accessories.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Okay, we have approximately thirty seconds.” Angie ignores my gratitude. I’d tease her, but she’s clearly on a mission. “What happened to you? You were fine when you left the apartment this morning.” She stares at me. “Never mind Grandma. You look like the one that got run over by a reindeer.”
“I hate that song,” I grumble.
Angie wears an instigating smile. “I know. That’s why I said it.”
I grab the pot of pasta and drain it into the colander I had waiting in the sink.
“Twenty seconds.”
I turn and release another sigh. “Ivy’s brother is back. And why didn’t anyone go outside with Grandma in the song? Because Santa would never.”
Angie’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, no. He’s back?”
“Yeah.”
My daughter races through the kitchen and into the living room again, spreading out her items on the couch.
“I’m going to take care of this little peanut,” Angie says. “Clear your head if you need to. But don’t lose hope. Not yet. She’s good for you.”
I tip my head gratefully and then routinely grab the cheese, milk, butter, flour, and cream. If my anxious heartbeat is any indication, this is going to be the comfort food I need when it’s done.
When dinner is ready, the three of us sit at the table and enjoy the meal. I don’t always eat what Emmy eats, especially with my training regimen. But tonight, I’m making an exception. Taking my first bite, I realize I was right to choose the road less traveled, and it’s delicious.
“Yum!” Angie sighs happily, standing and grabbing Emmy’s bowl as well as her own, placing them into the dishwasher quickly.
I’m already on my second helping, crouched over my portion like Beast with his oatmeal. I know this is what I look like because Emmy has giggled no less than three times over the course of dinner.
“Emmy Bear, let’s go! You’ve got your favorite Auntie A tonight on bath duty. Daddy can read your story before bed.”
I give my sister another nod, the debt I feel toward her increasing by the moment.
I’ll gladly welcome her kindness. When they head to the bathroom, I finish my last bite, but my mind is so preoccupied that I miss my mouth, a spoonful of mac and cheese falling onto my t-shirt.
I gather most of it with a napkin, frowning at the cheese still streaked across my clothing.
Sighing, I pull my shirt over my head and stand to take it to the laundry room.
Tossing it into the hamper, I return to retrieve my bowl, walking slowly to the sink.
The thought of Ivy withdrawing from my life again weighs on me.
My feet feel like they’re made of lead. Christmas feels more chaotic than ever.
Earlier today, I convinced Angie and Edgar to change our travel plans so I could stay in town to spend the holiday with Ivy.
For a moment, I worried they’d be furious, but they caved like the softies they are.
Together, we FaceTimed my parents to tell them we’re treating them to a New England Christmas again.
I used up my airline miles; it was the least I could do for expecting them to travel unexpectedly over the holidays.
And they’re bringing back the gifts I shipped.
It’s a choice I’d make again if I needed to.
Except, now I’m not so sure if changing my plans was a risk I needed to take since I’m not even sure where I’ll stand with Ivy after tonight.
Just as a sense of despair sets into my heart, there’s a light knock on the door.
With the slight growl that rumbles in my throat, I confirm that I really can be a bear at times.
Turning toward the entry, I call out, “Who’s there?
” not liking the thought of a stranger knocking at my sister’s door late at night. There’s no response.
Quickly unlocking it, I fling open the door to see Ivy and Resin standing before it, her hand mid-raise to knock again. Her hand drops, and the arm wraps around her back, her other hand holding the dog’s leash as he nestles against her, peering up for further instruction.
“Starlight,” I exhale.
Her eyes take in my face, moving over me.
They widen noticeably when they land on my chest. I didn’t think about the fact that I was shirtless when I opened the door.
She’s gripping the leash, and I want to flex just to see what her eyes do.
I refrain, but I do straighten my shoulders to rise to my full height.
It’s almost comical the way Ivy swallows before lifting her eyes to mine again.
Suddenly, I’m smiling, and I don’t even care if that makes me a sap.
The girl I care about is visibly attracted to me.
And she’s never even seen all my tattoos.
“Starlight?” I prompt gently when her eyes venture away and trace across my skin. The ink symbolizes who I am, the story of my life, and the parts of me that stay hidden, and by displaying them, I’m completely exposing my heart.
“There are just so many,” Ivy whispers and then clears her throat, shaking her head slightly. “Hi, Bear. Had to see you. Hope that’s okay.”
I nod and gesture for her to come in.
“Mmm, something smells good in here.”
The tentative smile she’s wearing is slowly unraveling me. She came after me. “I made mac and cheese. You’re welcome to some. I made too much.”
“I don’t honestly know if there is such a thing as too much comfort food.”
“My thoughts exactly, even though I don’t always allow myself to enjoy it as much as I should.” We grin at each other before I realize I haven’t taken her coat or put on a shirt. Which do I take care of first?
“May I?” I gesture toward her, and she smiles, removing the coat and allowing me to hang it on the rack by the door.
Grabbing a hoodie thrown on top of my gym bag in the entry, I slide it over my head, catching Ivy’s stare.
Her cheeks hold an adorable blush. I turn toward the living room when my head peeks through.
“Hope it’s okay that I brought my guy here.” My guy.
The thought registers that I want to be called that—permanently.
But I know she’s speaking of Resin. To my disappointment, it appears her dog has clocked more time with her today than I have, which makes sense, but it still feels all sorts of wrong.
I look at his sweet face. He’s a great dog, one that Emmy would love to grow up with too.
“Of course.” I nod my head and gesture for her to follow me.
We walk to the sectional couch, and it’s cozy because of Angie’s superior decorating skills.
Thick blankets line the back and sides of the couch.
Candles have been lit throughout the space (that was my doing because I’m not sure how people don’t love seasonal candles).