Chapter Fourteen
“Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.”
Woodrow Wilson
Jack
“So, how do I do this?”
I stared at the rolls of cutesy Christmas-patterned paper and the piles of gifts waiting to be wrapped, sitting between Ivy and me on her bedroom floor. We wore our matching snowman sweaters because on that day’s schedule was a snowman-building contest.
Ivy had already bribed Shane, talented architect that he was, to be on our team.
This family took their snowman-building seriously.
I’d seen some pretty fierce negotiations in my career, but nothing like the Wells family that morning during breakfast as they’d haggled and playfully argued about who would be on whose team.
I was particularly impressed by Ivy, who had privately threatened Shane to let it slip to Poppy that her dad had once dated Sophie’s mom. Shane had hopped on team Ivy real quick after that.
Ivy might have been ruthless when it came to snowmen, but the gifts between us spelled out how thoughtful she was. She’d carefully chosen each present in the hope that it would bring joy to the recipient, and she was graciously allowing me to claim they were from us.
Unspoken thoughts and words bounced between us, but Ivy seemed determined not to address the elephant in the room.
The elephant being that I knew exactly how she tasted now and how well she molded to my body as we slept together.
We’d crossed the line of friendship, yet Ivy wouldn’t—or couldn’t—acknowledge it.
She’d said nothing the night before as we lay in the dark together, her in my arms, breaths synced, hearts racing.
Or at least mine had been as I’d ached to tell her I loved her.
But I knew I couldn’t. Ivy clearly wasn’t ready for that truth.
The only reason she’d even shared the bottom bunk with me was to make sure the bed didn’t squeak.
She refused to give her family any more reasons to believe we were a real couple.
Why didn’t she realize we were the perfect couple?
I thought back to the previous night and all the laughter as we’d played games with her family.
Her on my lap, kissing me for good luck, smiling warmly whenever I touched her.
Sure, there was trepidation on her part, and her constant private reminders that she was only behaving this way to protect me and my career.
But I knew Ivy. She didn’t fake emotion.
She didn’t fake anything. I’d never met someone as genuine as her.
Ivy twirled a tape dispenser around her finger and flashed me a taunting smile. “I can’t believe you’ve never wrapped a gift before.”
“I don’t know why this surprises you.”
She stopped twirling the tape and gave me that look of hers. The one that tried to open me up and read me like one of her history books. This look always made me uneasy. Some histories didn’t need to be revisited.
“Where did you learn how to play games like that? How did you even know the Candy Land characters?” she asked, subtly trying to crack the book open.
I shrugged, hoping she would drop it, not wanting to unlock those memories. Good memories of my childhood hurt worse than the bad ones, even though they were few and far between.
“Come on, Jack,” she coaxed. “Tell me. Please.”
I pulled a personalized “spa” gift box for Ivy’s niece Poppy toward me, refusing to look at Ivy, knowing that she would push until she got the truth out of me. The silence hung uncomfortably between us. It was unusual for us.
That was one of the things I loved about Ivy—she made the quiet comfortable. There was never pressure to fill the void. No expectations to say anything just because the moment demanded it. Our mutual presence was always enough.
Until now.
She seemed to need this from me, and I wasn’t sure I could give it to her.
The seconds stretched. Long enough for her to give up.
She exhaled, but not in frustration. Worse. In disappointment.
The last thing I wanted was for her to be disappointed in me.
She forged ahead while I kicked myself for not being more open with the woman I loved. The woman who had never wanted anything from me other than my company and friendship. That was a rarity in my life.
“Wrapping a gift is easy as long as you cut the right amount of wrapping paper. Not too much and not too little. Measure, measure, measure, Mom always says.” Ivy tried to infuse some levity into the moment.
“My mom never said things like that,” I tossed out there, trying to sound casual.
I said casual, yet it was anything but. I’d just opened a door to Ivy that I’d never wanted her to walk through. The one to my past. But I supposed she deserved a peek. To see what she was signing up for if she would ever admit what was right in front of her eyes—us.
And how could I expect her to admit her feelings when I refused to be open with her?
Ivy carefully made eye contact with me. She tilted her head, wary of my shift in attitude. I couldn’t blame her.
“What kind of things did your mom say?” Ivy asked hesitantly as if skating on thin ice, trying to keep from plunging into the frigid water.
“Mostly lies. That everything would be okay.” I paused, feeling like I needed to offer Ivy something more, even if it made me uncomfortable.
“She’s the one who taught me how to play Candy Land and UNO.
After every drunken fight she and my father had, she’d come into my room to check on me.
I was usually hiding in the closet or under my bed,” I painfully admitted.
Ivy’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes widened, filled with concern, but she quickly composed herself, knowing I wouldn’t want the sympathy.
She said nothing but scooted across the floor to my side.
Her head fell on my shoulder, silently asking me to continue.
Giving me the privacy of not having to face her.
How did she always know exactly what I needed?
I hated thinking about that scared little boy always hiding. Never certain of what each day would bring. My only wish was that it wouldn’t include my father, the drunken bastard.
I used to live for the days he didn’t come home. Wishing he would stay gone and someone would rescue me. Not that my mom was a saint. But before she took off and left me behind to save herself, she’d had her moments.
I took Ivy’s hand, noting how well it fit in mine as our fingers naturally intertwined. My thumb brushed across her warm, smooth skin.
“She would play games with me for hours—I think, in part, to console me, but also to forget about her own pain. She would tell me she was sorry a hundred times, but she would never do anything to fix the situation. And then . . . she left.”
And that hadn’t fixed a damn thing. It had only made my situation unbearable.
For days I’d cried, waiting by the dingy window looking out at the seedy trailer park we’d lived in, waiting for her to come home. My father taunted me every chance he got, telling me to man up at seven years old. What did he know about being a man?
Still, I waited, despite knowing deep down she was never coming back. Hell, I didn’t even know where she was now. Her or my worthless father.
Honestly, it surprised me that he’d never hit me up for money. But I supposed I really was nothing to him. When I moved out at seventeen, unable to take another day with him, he’d told me he never wanted to see me again. Apparently, he’d meant it, and it was fine by me.
“Jack,” Ivy whispered, squeezing my hand.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
I knew what she was thinking. That no child should ever have to endure that. And she was right. But I didn’t need her words. Just her by my side was medicine enough. It gave me hope for the kind of family I had wished for as a child.
“I won’t if you don’t want me to. But your mom must have been a good game player.”
“Yeah, she was.” I almost hated to admit it.
I wouldn’t mention the fact that she’d also been a good thief who had taught me her ways, and that the games we’d played had all been stolen from the little general store in town. A fact I still felt guilty about and had tried to atone for by anonymously sending the owner money.
“What you did last night was incredible.” Ivy pivoted, knowing not to push me to spill more of my secrets.
I was sure she would know them all before this was over. But not today.
“It was the best game night we’ve ever had in this family. You have solidified your legendary status among my nieces and nephews.”
“What about among you?” I wanted to be her legend. Her everything.
Her head popped off my shoulder, and she rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile dancing in them.
In a surprising twist, she said, “You’re all right,” before she leaned in and quickly pecked my lips.
It happened so fast and so unexpectedly, I didn’t have time to react and capture those velvet lips of hers in return.
The way she jumped back and scrambled away said she was even more surprised than I was.
“Oh. My. Gosh. I am so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.
” She stood in one swift move and ran her fingers through her silky hair, tumbling down in waves.
“All this trying to sell being your fake girlfriend is getting to me. It’s making me do things I shouldn’t. Maybe we’re just kissing too much.”
On the contrary, we weren’t kissing enough.
“I need to go.” She looked around frantically, like she needed to escape from a crime scene, before pointing to the bathroom.
“I need to go potty.” She froze, horrified at her own words.
“Oh, jeez, I meant tinkle.” Her face burned crimson.
“Just don’t listen to me. I’m being ridiculous.
” She ran to the bathroom. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she called, muffled through the door she’d just slammed. “Please, forget that happened.”
There was no chance of that. I smiled to myself. Ivy had just kissed me. And not because she felt obligated to. Not because she was putting on an act. It’d been the real deal.
While I took my victory lap, Ivy peeked her head out the bathroom door, her eyes brimming with tears. Her distress felt like a punch to my gut, and my celebration came to a crashing halt.
“Jack,” she squeaked out. “We’re still going to be best friends when this is all over, right?”
I wanted to jump up and run to her, wrap her in my arms, but I knew that would only scare her more. Instead, I told her the truth.
“The best of,” I promised her.
Best of friends.
Best of lovers.
If only she would let us be.