Chapter Seven
“I find it easier to claim that I am friends with a monkey rather than with a man.”
Shahla Khan
Ivy
Jack and I walked into the retirement community hand in hand, playing the perfect couple. Admittedly, his steady grip calmed my nerves some. Even though I wouldn’t have had those nerves if it weren’t for him. It was a vicious cycle.
The smell of cinnamon, antiseptic, and cleaning supplies hung in the air of the two-story foyer decorated with several Christmas trees, and one of the residents played holiday carols on the grand piano.
It was Christmas at the Summit Pines Retirement Home.
And for a moment, I felt a slice of peace.
I tried to remind myself of the true meaning of Christmas, and it had nothing to do with fake dating or what was going on online.
My niece, Emma, bolted away from her parents as soon as she saw us walk into the lobby and put her arms out—not to me, but to Jack.
Jack surprised me and scooped her right up like he was a pro at it, even though I’d never seen him hold a child in real life.
On the big screen, sure. He’d played a single dad of three a couple years ago in a heart-wrenching drama.
That year, the Academy nominated him for an Oscar.
It was a travesty that he didn’t win if you asked me.
Emma snuggled right into him, and Jack instinctively stroked her blonde curly hair.
Whoa, my heart skipped a few beats. He was in full Jack mode today.
And Jack with a child was lethal to my already-fragile defenses.
My biological clock’s alarm went off like it was saying, Ding, ding, ding—we have found the father of your future children.
Apparently, my biological clock hadn’t gotten the memo that Jack and I were just friends. I could understand why it was confused—all our touching was sending mixed signals. Even I was getting turned around.
“Wow,” I said way too breathily as I gaped at my best friend being absolutely adorable with my niece. It was too attractive for my own good. “I didn’t know you were so good with kids.”
Jack looked far too pleased. “I’m glad I can still surprise you.”
Oh, he’d been surprising me this entire trip—and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. So, naturally, I blurted out something ridiculous.
“Do you want kids?”
It wasn’t something he’d ever talked about. He knew I wanted at least three. You know, with my nonexistent husband. I was beginning to wonder if that man would ever show up.
Jack perused me up and down, eyes glinting with amusement. “Are you offering, darlin’?”
“Uh, no.” My brain short-circuited. What kind of question was that?
My mom didn’t help at all, bounding up to us in her Santa hat, beaming, pulling a wagonful of cookies. Dad trailed behind her, dragging another wagon like backup reinforcements.
“Well, look how cute this is. Oh, Ivy, he’s a keeper. Look how good he is with kids. You two will have beautiful babies together.”
“Mom.” I cringed. “We just started dating.”
“But you’ve known each other for so long. What else could you—”
“Dating is much different from friendship,” I cut her off before she embarrassed me further and started making wedding arrangements and suggesting names for our children.
Of course, I was going to have two girls named Avery and Adeline and a boy named Henry after my favorite grandpa, but Jack wasn’t going to be their dad.
Granted, he would give me gorgeous children.
But that was neither here nor there. I wasn’t even sure I could sleep platonically in the same bed as Jack.
It would solve the squeaking issue, but I had a feeling it would introduce an entirely new set of problems. Problems like, What if I liked it? Yeah, I was worried—especially since he looked unfairly amazing holding my niece. And my body had already betrayed me today.
“Not that much,” Mom trilled as she walked off, laughing to herself.
Jack smirked, looking way too smug, like he was actually on board with my mom. Please. This was an act for him. And just to prove how good he was at playing this fake-boyfriend role, he leaned in, voice low, teasing, and deliberate.
“By the way,” he whispered, “I definitely want kids.”
“Careful saying that too loud. You’ll have a hoard of women offering themselves as tribute. Even some of the octogenarians.” I grinned, expecting him to laugh it off.
Instead, he frowned like I’d just let him down.
What was all that about? I didn’t get the chance to ask. We were already being ushered into the common room, where residents—people we’d known for years, people who felt like family—were waiting.
I was especially eager to see Phyllis, my honorary grandma and the woman I’d been visiting since high school.
She’d aged like fine wine, sharp as ever and still telling the best Hollywood stories.
I had a feeling she and Jack would hit it off.
She’d been an actress back in the 1960s, but her career had stalled when she refused to play the casting couch game. I’d always applauded her for that.
By the time we reached the common room, it was buzzing.
Buzzing about Mr. Holiday, that is.
I spotted staff members discreetly slipping phones from their pockets, snapping photos like they were trying not to get caught but also couldn’t resist. Oh, gosh.
Pictures of Jack in his Cookie Crew sweater were definitely about to make the rounds online.
Unless they couldn’t actually post the pictures—being employees, and, you know, Jack holding my niece, who was a minor.
Please let that be the case.
Paige clued into Jack’s unintended photo shoot and grabbed Emma, who wailed about having to be torn away from him. Apparently, Jack even enthralled toddlers. Honestly, it was nothing new. I’d seen my fair share of women cry when they met Jack. It was weird.
I mean, I had a huge thing for Timothée Chalamet, but you wouldn’t see me bawling my eyes out if I met him—which I was still trying to get Jack to set up for me. For some reason, he refused to. But after this, he owed me, and I was going to make Timothée part of the deal.
I supposed if I went to an award show or two with Jack, I might run into him. Yikes. I couldn’t think about it. Me? At an award show? What was Jack even thinking, asking me? I shoved the thought aside.
Surely, we would break up by then. Right? Sienna would move on to someone new soon. Maybe.
Oh, who was I kidding? She always came back to Jack. Always. Why hadn’t I thought about that before I opened my big mouth and confirmed that we were a couple? I’d poked the grizzly bear. And now I was going to pay for it.
For how long? No one knew. Maybe it would be a good idea to start looking for a designer. Or check to see if Banana Republic could help a girl out.
It didn’t take long for Jack to get swarmed by his adoring fans.
I took that as my opportunity to make my way over to Phyllis.
I needed a moment away from the insanity that was Mr. Holiday.
On my way, I swiped a few cookies from Dad’s wagon.
We’d wrapped them individually, each one sealed with a special sticker.
Merry Christmas, with love, the Wells Family.
Not that I could eat any cookies. I’d gone a little overboard on the cookie dough that morning.
Phyllis sat on a chaise in the corner, near one of the twenty-foot Christmas trees, its red and green ornaments shimmering under the lights.
She was all class, her silver-white hair done in a perfect coif, dressed in a linen suit, effortlessly commanding the room like she always did.
Well, that was until Jack arrived. He commanded any room he was in.
But she didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, her crooked smile said Jack intrigued her.
I took a seat next to her and wrapped my arms around her thin body. “Hi there.”
She kissed my cheek, no doubt leaving a pink lip stain mark. “Hello, darling.”
“How are you?” I asked, trying very hard to ignore the Jack-induced chaos behind me and those fawning over him calling him Mr. Holiday.
Phyllis’s gaze flickered to the source of it all. “The question is, how are you?” Insert a long pause. “I’m hearing things, darling.”
If Jack and I were already making headlines in a retirement community, I was toast.
“What things?” I asked, deciding it was best not to volunteer information if I didn’t have to.
Phyllis looked between Jack and me, far too amused.
“Friends have become lovers, I see.”
“Where did you see that?” I shuddered to ask.
“On Instagram, of course.”
“Of course,” I laughed.
Because apparently every eighty-five-year-old had an Instagram account now.
I so badly wanted to tell her and my family the truth, but I didn’t want to make problems for Jack, and Sienna would do exactly that if she knew we’d lied to her.
No doubt she would do her best to make trouble anyway, but at least it wouldn’t be the kind that would have the studio canceling a press tour or something.
At least, I hoped not. What if this charade was all for naught?
Phyllis took my hand gently, knowingly. “You’re stressed, darling.”
“Yeah, you could say that. I’ve told you all about Jack before, but it’s different being his girlfriend.”
I said the word without choking on it, though it still felt odd. Like a pair of shoes that didn’t quite fit but that I was wearing anyway. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to kick them off and go back to the nice, comfortable loafers of just being Jack’s friend.
“The spotlight shines brightly, doesn’t it?”
I nodded. “Too bright.”
“You were made for it, though, darling.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. It’s all in your eyes.”
“Really? I thought my eyes might be screaming for help.”
Phyllis gave a throaty laugh, but her words were anything but a joke. “Darling, it’s the women who don’t crave the spotlight who always look best in it.” She glanced toward Jack. “And I think he agrees. Look how he adores you.”
Against my better judgment, I looked his way, even though I knew—however he might look at me—it was an act. But there he was among a gaggle of admirers, all clamoring for his attention, staring directly at me. Odd. He normally loved working a crowd. Odder still was how utterly enamored he seemed.
For a second, just a second, I bought the act and blushed like I really was his leading lady and we were starring in a wacky holiday rom-com. No one had ever looked at me like that. Like I was his entire world. But this was why he was the hottest ticket in Hollywood.
Flustered, I waved at him. My friend. My best friend.
Apparently that was enough incentive for him to make his excuses and strut our way, leaving his fans sighing and wanting more.
I couldn’t help but smile, but I also felt bad. I’d probably given all those regular women hope that they could snag him. Poor things. If only they knew the truth—that Jack would be “dumping” me soon enough and moving on to his next gorgeous costar.
For now, he excelled at his role as my fake boyfriend.
He sat down and slid right next to me, draping an arm around my shoulders and kissing my cheek.
Seriously, he was so touchy-feely. Once again, I had to remind my body this was all an act and to knock off the butterflies.
There were absolutely no butterflies allowed in this fake relationship.
I cleared my throat and killed the butterflies. “Phyllis, this is Jack, if you hadn’t already guessed. Jack, this is Phyllis.”
Phyllis held out her hand like a Renaissance maiden, chin high, expectant—as if Jack knew exactly what to do..
Jack ate that right up and obliged her, kissing her hand.
Oh, jeez, even my adopted grandma wasn’t immune to his charm.
“It’s so lovely to meet you,” Phyllis purred. You heard that right—she purred like a kitten.
Jack gently released her hand. “The pleasure is all mine. Ivy’s told me so much about you.”
“Same, darling. I’m happy to see you finally realized what a catch our Ivy is.”
Jack didn’t miss a beat.
“I’ve always known.”
I wanted to elbow him. Tone it down, Romeo.
He needed to be more subtle, not play this part like he was up for an Oscar.
This was only going to make it worse when we broke up.
I was going to have to act super devastated.
Maybe even betrayed. At this rate, we might have to avoid each other for a while after the breakup to really sell it. I didn’t want that.
I just wanted to go back to the way things were. Back to being his best friend in the background, cheering him on. Not worrying about OREO crumbs on my face. Or how many Instagram feeds I was about to end up in, wearing matching Christmas sweaters with Mr. Holiday himself.
“I like you.” Phyllis winked.
“I watched some of your films. You’re an incredible actress. The Velvet Affair particularly impressed me. Scandalous for its day. But you played the role of Vivian the misunderstood heiress perfectly.”
I whipped my head around to face Jack. “You watched her movies?”
“Of course.” Jack’s tone implied it was obvious that he would watch them. “You said you loved them, and you knew the star. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Wow, Jack.”
I was absolutely flabbergasted and at a loss for words. He really was the best friend ever. If truth be told, I wished the guys I dated were more like him. Just not famous—or my best friend.
“I told you, I want to love the things you love. This one was easy.” He tapped my nose.
Oh. Oh. Oh no. I had this weird urge to kiss him.
So much so that I had to press my lips together before I did something foolish and irreversible.
While Jack was touchy-feely, he would probably consider kissing me to be like kissing a sister.
But dang it if he didn’t look so sweet and sexy, pretending to stare at me like I was his world.
Plus, he seemed to be sincere about wanting to love the things I loved, and that made him even more kissable.
“This man is a keeper, Ivy,” Phyllis commented.
Why did everyone keep saying that? But really, I knew why. He was so freaking charming. But he wasn’t mine to keep. At least, not in the way everyone thought. But I did want to keep him in my life, and the only sure way to do that was to stay friends.
Besides, after seven years of proving him wrong about men and women, I couldn’t give up now. That was crazy talk.