Chapter Six
“Men pretend to be ‘just a friend’ at first.”
Oliver Markus
Jack
I thought it best if I rented a car for Ivy and me to give us some alone time on the drive over to the retirement community.
She’d gotten a little stabby with the strawberries during breakfast that morning, and she’d consumed enough cookie dough during the cookiepalooza that I was genuinely concerned she would get salmonella.
I reached over, resting my hand on Ivy’s firm, shapely thigh as we stopped at a light in the most picturesque town I’d ever seen.
It was like stepping into a Hallmark Christmas movie—every shop window decked out, even the lampposts dressed for the season.
To add to the scene, snow gently drifted down.
It was all enough to make me feel a little claustrophobic.
But I was willing to go the distance for Ivy and soak in all the holiday cheer.
“Do you hate me yet?” I dared to ask.
Ivy rolled her head my way, her hair swept up in a messy bun that was somehow ridiculously sexy, contemplating her response.
That pause? Not a good sign.
“Define hate,” she finally said.
“Ouch. Well, I, for one, think it’s going great. Your family is totally buying it, and I made Christmas cookies for the first time. This is a win.”
Ivy side-eyed me, thoroughly unconvinced.
“I’m happy for you, Jack. While you’re giving your Academy Award–winning performance and making everyone laugh, I’m over here floundering and making my family think I’ve gone insane.
And you know what? They might be right. You’ve driven me to the brink, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. ”
She took a breath, but she wasn’t done.
“Did you know my mom almost made me wear the Grinch hat of shame because of my uncheerful attitude during cookiepalooza? But she let me off with a warning because of what some people are saying about me online. Do you know what people are saying about me online, Jack? Do you?”
I took her hand, guiding us carefully through the slick intersection, feeling like a jerk—but savoring every touch.
I hadn’t accounted for how all the undue attention would affect Ivy.
She was normally so confident and secure about herself, so it hadn’t crossed my mind.
Personally, I never paid attention to online garbage, but my PR manager, Tori, kept me updated anyway.
She’d even released a statement about Ivy and me:
While Mr. Holiday doesn’t comment on his love life, he’s never been happier.
The statement was accurate; I was never happier than when I was with Ivy.
“I know sorry doesn’t cut it, but I promise this will all blow over, and someday, we are going to have a big laugh about it.
” At least, I hoped so. My worst fear was that Ivy would end up thinking I was a prick and kick me out of her life.
“But in the meantime, let’s just try to have fun with this. ”
Maybe if I said that enough, it would happen.
“How?” she whined. “It’s not fun being called a man stealer or constantly being compared to Sienna. And let’s not forget the salacious comments my siblings keep making about the dang squeaky bed.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I mean, come on. They’d think it was weird if the bed wasn’t squeaking.”
Ivy glared. “This isn’t funny.”
“It kind of is. And under any other circumstance, you’d find it hilarious. Where’s that girl?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe back in Austin, where I lost my freaking mind and agreed to this asinine plan.”
I brushed my thumb across her smooth skin, aching to touch more. Which meant I needed to tread carefully.
“I have a plan,” I assured her. “First, we sleep on the bottom bunk together. It’s only the top bunk that squeaks.”
She whipped her head toward me. “How do you know that?”
“Tested it this morning.”
“We can’t sleep next to each other. It’s a twin.”
“I’ll let you be the little spoon,” I said, grinning.
“Oh, ha ha. Have you forgotten we’re not really a couple?”
Believe me, I wished I could. “So? We’ve crashed on each other’s couches dozens of times. Pretty sure you’ve drooled on me.”
She curled her lip, narrowing her eyes. “That was you drooling on me.”
“Hard to remember the fine details,” I teased, though I remembered exactly how it felt to wake up with Ivy in my arms—and how much I wanted that every day of my life.
She bit her lip. “Jack, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to sleep next to each other.”
“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
Her cheeks flushed, and for a second, I wondered if my joke had actually hit the mark. This could be good.
“Nooo,” she said, dragging the word out with exaggerated flair. “Of course, I can keep my hands off you.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Other than her actually keeping her hands off me. “It solves the squeaking issue.”
“I don’t know,” she said, flustered. “I’ll think about it.”
I would, too. I wanted her in my arms far more than she would ever know.
“How are you going to fix the other problems? And when is it going to be safe for us to break up?” she begged to know.
I internally groaned. She was hellbent on me naming a breakup date.
I cleared my throat. “Tori’s handling the press and social media—she’ll put out any fires. And as for breaking up . . . It could be a while. Actually, we should probably plan on doing awards season together. Who’s your favorite designer? Pick anyone, and we’ll have a few dresses made.”
Ivy’s jaw dropped. “You want me to walk the red carpet with you?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? You’re my best friend. Who else would I want?”
I’d wanted to take her before, but she’d never seemed that interested—which, honestly, only made her more attractive. And the studio execs had always nudged me toward my costar, pushing the whole sell-the-movie narrative. But I was past that.
I wanted Ivy.
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe a Victoria’s Secret model? Or a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit cover girl? And for your information, I don’t have a favorite designer. I shop at the Gap and, if I’m going real fancy, Banana Republic. I don’t think they carry evening gowns.”
If she only knew that she blew any of those models out of the water, or how much I loved that she didn’t have a designer on speed dial.
But then that might be a different conversation.
One that would just allow me to come out and say that I was in love with her.
I hated all this dancing around it, but I was desperate for us to be together.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure out the evening gown thing.”
Ivy started hyperventilating. “I don’t know if I can do this.
I’m not a glam girl. It’s my job to make other people look glamorous.
And I can’t stand the thought of influencers judging my red-carpet appearance or comparing me to you—or worse, all your exes.
Did you know that I have cellulite on my upper thighs?
How’s that going to look in some figure-hugging gown? ”
“Ivy.” I drew her hand up and kissed it. “You think I give a damn about some cellulite? Or anyone who does? You’re gorgeous. That’s not lip service.”
Ivy took a moment and several deep breaths, searching my face for any trace of a lie. She would find nothing there.
“Jack, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”
“A hot mess.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I’m serious. And I promise—this is all going to work out. Trust me.”
“Says the man who told Sienna we were a couple.”
“A guy panics one time and suddenly it’s a lifelong crime,” I teased, then switched gears. I needed Ivy off the breakup train—fast.
“So, are we going to have some fun today or what? We’re about to hand out enough cookies to feed an army and play games with octogenarians while wearing matching Christmas sweaters. Tell me that’s not peak holiday entertainment.”
“Fine, I’ll try to have fun, but only because I want you to love the magic of Christmas. This isn’t me forgiving you yet or agreeing to any award shows. I just don’t want to wear the Grinch hat of shame.”
“I don’t know. I think you would look cute in it.”
She shook her head at me.
I turned into the parking lot of the retirement community, which, like everything else in Aspen Lake, resembled a swanky ski lodge.
I pulled into a space beside her parents’ Land Rover.
Before turning off the ignition, I let myself take a moment just to look at her.
The shine in her bright eyes, the loose strands of hair framing her heart-shaped face, the way her lips parted as if she were on the edge of telling me off or maybe she wanted to confess something.
Every little thing about her wrecked me.
“What?” She caught me staring.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you in my life.”
Her lips ticked up into an almost smile. “I would say the feeling is mutual, but I’m not sure anymore,” she teased.
But I feared part of her wasn’t teasing, and I needed to fix that, stat.