Chapter Twenty-Three
“Friendship is a wildly underrated medication.”
Anna Deavere Smith
Jack
Wearing our Grinch hats of shame, Ivy and I huddled in a corner of the kitchen, trying to assemble a gingerbread mansion while some of her family made offhand comments about how trapped they felt—thanks to the paparazzi swarming outside, just waiting for a glimpse of either one of us.
Ivy’s family wasn’t exactly shunning us.
In fact, Jaquelyn had said it was mandatory for Ivy and me to come to the gingerbread mansion–building contest. Obviously, they weren’t happy that we’d lied to them.
I felt terrible about it. In my defense, I hadn’t lied about how I felt about Ivy. That should have counted for something.
And Ivy had only been trying to help me. That should have counted, too.
But I was beginning to feel like the actual Grinch who had stolen Christmas.
Judging by the disaster of the gingerbread house we half-heartedly assembled—leaning like a condemned building, gumdrops sliding off like prison escapees—Ivy was clearly upset.
Every time she looked at me, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch me or kiss me. Her emotions were all over the place.
And let’s face it: I deserved to be punched. I should have just told her the truth to begin with. But she didn’t seem to know what to do with the truth, so I wasn’t sure where that left us.
Sienna wasn’t helping my cause. She was doubling down, telling everyone I had kissed her and that we were getting back together. Her latest post was a red-carpet throwback with the caption: Some pairings never go out of style.
Ivy ripped off a sizable chunk of gingerbread cookie from one of the walls and shoved it in her mouth.
“You know what I was just thinking about?” she mumbled through the bite.
Chewing with her mouth open was slightly horrifying, but I kept that to myself. Better for her to chew gingerbread than my head off.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked, eager for anything—she’d barely spoken to me today.
She swallowed dramatically and grabbed another hunk of gingerbread. “I was just thinking of all the headlines I could pitch to the paparazzi. What do you think of these?
“Jack Holiday: Actor, Heartbreaker, Gingerbread Architect (A Poor One). Witnesses say his latest project leans harder than his ability to commit to one woman. Ivy Wells seen holding frosting and the backstory we’re all eager to hear.
“Insiders Claim He’s Gone from Hollywood Heartthrob to Hallmark Hot Mess.
“Jack Holiday and Ivy Wells Spotted with Matching Shame Hats and Emotional Damage. Sources say their gingerbread house wasn’t the only thing crumbling.”
I chuckled, even though she was clearly cracking up at my expense. “Very clever. And I think you’ve had enough sugar.” I gently pried the fistful of gingerbread wall from her hands.
“Thanks for that. I don’t feel very good.” She rested her head on the table, some of her hair landing in a blob of frosting. “We ruined Christmas. And maybe our entire lives. And by the way, I’ll never be able to kiss anyone but you. Do you want to know why?”
She sounded accusatory, but I thought this was a good thing. Her never being able to kiss another man sounded perfect.
“Because you’re the best at it. You’re the best at everything,” she growled before I could answer.
“Okay, Ivy.” I took her hair out of the frosting and tried to wipe it off the best I could. Clearly, I’d pushed her over the edge. “Let’s get you to your room. I think you need some sleep.”
“It’s your fault I didn’t sleep last night.”
“I know.” I stood and picked her up out of her chair. Surprisingly, she let me. Even more shocking was the way she curled into me.
Every eye in the room turned to us, glaring at me like I’d done something wrong. I supposed I had. I’d lied to them and undermined their trust. And because of me, they were being held hostage in their own home.
“Ivy’s not feeling well,” I offered contritely.
Jaquelyn jumped up in her gingerbread apron that said, Baking Spirits Bright, and rushed over to us.
“She’s probably faking it,” Drew muttered.
Kira swatted him. “Be nice to your sister.”
“She lied to us.”
“I did lie to you. And I’m so, so sorry,” Ivy wailed.
Jaquelyn brushed her hand over Ivy’s brow. “She feels a little warm.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I was just trying to be a good friend. I didn’t mean to ruin everyone’s Christmas.”
“Shh. It’s okay. You didn’t ruin Christmas.”
No.
I did.
And I hated myself for it.
“Why don’t you take Ivy to her room, and I’ll make her some tea.” Jaquelyn gave me a meaningful look that said she still hadn’t forgiven me, but until Ivy felt better, there would be a truce between us.
I caught Bradford’s eye, and his expression said he damn well better not hear any bed squeaks.
He didn’t need to worry on that account.
I would never take advantage of Ivy. You know, more than I already had by asking her to be in a fake relationship and then humiliating her in front of the world and throwing her into a PR disaster.
I wasn’t winning any best friend or fake-boyfriend awards.
In silence, I carried her up to her old room and laid her on the bottom bunk, pulling a comforter over her. She snuggled under it like it would protect her somehow. Did she feel like she needed protection from me?
Feeling gutted, I kneeled next to the bed and smoothed her brow, her wide eyes staring back at me.
“Jack,” she whispered. “What are we going to do? My family is mad at me. Half the world thinks I’m a home wrecker and a joke.
The other half feels sorry for me. I have frosting in my hair and cramps from hell.
And we’re . . . well . . . I don’t know what we are,” she cried. “I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” I promised.
“Things have changed, Jack.”
“They have, but—”
Jaquelyn walked in carrying a trayful of medicine and tea without knocking, interrupting us.
“I’ll take it from here.” She wasn’t exactly curt, but she was all business.
All the motherly love she’d shown me previously had disappeared.
Not that I blamed her. I’d lied to her and reduced Ivy to a tearful mess with frosting in her hair and her picture in the tabloids.
I’d ruined everyone’s Christmas. Why I ever thought I would be good at the holidays, I didn’t know.
It was probably best if I left. Maybe then they could at least salvage Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
For once, I’d been looking forward to celebrating “the most wonderful time of the year,” but I’d only proven that I’d been right in years past to skip the holidays.
And maybe if I left, the paparazzi would follow. I’d head to LA and try to smooth things over with the studio execs in person. Do my best to salvage what was left of my image.
Damn Sienna.
I hated the thought of leaving Ivy, but she clearly needed some time, and maybe this way, her family would forgive her and realize I was the villain.
I kissed Ivy’s cheek before I stood, making way for Jaquelyn to tend to her daughter.
“I really am sorry, Jaquelyn. For everything.”
She said nothing, but if I wasn’t mistaken, her facial features softened.
I strode out of the room, determined to—if nothing else—give Ivy and her family a chance at the kind of Christmas they deserved.
Pulling out my phone, I fired off a quick text to my personal assistant Lacie.
Me: Please see if you can get me on the next flight out of Aspen Lake. I don’t care where to.
Hell, I’d fly to Antarctica if I had to. The sooner I left, the sooner Ivy and her family could get back to their holiday without the chaos I’d dragged in behind me.
While I waited for her reply, I glanced over the railing into the family room below. The massive Christmas tree stood there, tall and glowing—ornaments gleaming, presents perfectly stacked. It felt as if the tree were laughing in my face.
And then I saw it—Ivy’s gift. The haphazard wrapping job, crooked bow, and terrible handwriting on the tag. Proof that I wasn’t good at everything like Ivy had accused me of earlier.
The thought struck me: I should give her the gift before I go. At least then she’d know I’d tried to do the holidays. Tried to love the things she loved. Failed spectacularly—but tried.
I headed downstairs to the sounds of Ivy’s family decorating their gingerbread-mansion masterpieces echoing through the house. It was a punch in the gut. A reminder that I’d disappointed every one of them. Maybe someday I could fix it. But today wasn’t that day.
Lacie: I can get you on a 7pm flight to Denver. Does that work? Everything okay?
No, it wasn’t, but I was sure she knew, given all the online gossip.
Me: Please book the flight and then a connecting one to LA. Thank you.
And just like that, I was done with the holidays.
All I had left to do was give Ivy her gift, pack, and say my goodbyes.
Easy enough, or so I thought.
“What are you doing?” Bradford’s steady, deep voice caught me by surprise while I retrieved Ivy’s gift from under the tree. He probably thought I really was the Grinch, here to steal all their gifts.
I straightened, abashed and clutching the crookedly wrapped box in my hands like I’d stolen crime scene evidence.
“I was just . . .” I cleared my throat. “Just getting Ivy’s gift. I wanted to give it to her before I left.”
Bradford tilted his head. “You’re leaving?”
“I figured it was for the best under the circumstances. I apologize for lying to you and your family and for all the trouble with the press. It was never my intention to hurt any of you, especially Ivy. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I do love her. And I didn’t kiss Sienna.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
I thought that was obvious.
“Because your family deserves a good Christmas.”
“And you don’t?”
I swallowed hard. “No, sir. Not after what I’ve done.”
“And what’s that?”
Was this a rhetorical question? Or did he just want me to articulate my crimes? If that was what he wanted, fine. I could oblige.
“Besides managing to tick off every member of your family?” I let out a jagged breath. “I threw the woman I love into a media circus and let her become tabloid fodder. And I worried her so much, she’s sick now. So, I’m going to take my parting bow and let you salvage your holidays.”
Bradford didn’t respond right away. He just looked at me like he was sizing me up.
“And you think leaving is going to make my daughter happy—or any of us, for that matter?”
“I figured it would.”
“That’s not how families work, son. At least not this family.”
Did he just call me son?
No one had called me that in years. Not since my mother left. It hit so hard, I sank into the nearest chair before I realized I’d even moved.
Bradford lowered himself onto the edge of the coffee table, knees nearly touching mine like we were about to have the first real man-to-man talk of my life.
“Listen, Jack,” he said sincerely. “Even the best families are messy. But just because you screw up doesn’t mean we kick you out.”
He paused, then pointed to the monstrosity perched on my head. “I mean, Jaquelyn might make you wear that ridiculous hat for a few more days.”
We both chuckled but quickly stopped and resumed our serious demeanors.
“But there’s a media circus outside of your property, and Ivy . . . well . . . I’m not sure she feels the way I do.” I hated to admit that, but she obviously wanted to hold on to our friendship and either didn’t want more or was too afraid to even consider it.
Bradford scrubbed a hand over his salt-and-pepper scruff.
“Jack, Ivy’s like her old man. She’s stubborn, and she doesn’t do well with change.
And sometimes we have a tendency not to see what’s right in front of us.
But one thing is certain—she loves you. Jaquelyn and I have always thought it was just a matter of time before the two of you finally figured out your friendship was something more. ”
I wanted to believe him. Every word. Not only that Ivy loved me, but that I could still be part of their family. That maybe I’d finally have my first real Christmas. But it seemed too good to be true, especially after everything I’d done.
“I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.”
“You think leaving won’t hurt her? Son, you have to stay and work this out. That’s what good couples do.” He patted my leg.
A lump rose in my throat. Bradford had no idea how much his words meant to me. How much it meant that he hadn’t written me off like my old man.
“Thank you.” It was all I could think to say.
“You’re welcome. Now, go talk to my daughter. And if you could, try to get rid of the cameras outside.”
I nodded and stood.
Bradford stood as well. While he wasn’t taller than me, he seemed to tower over me.
“And Jack, I don’t care how ‘with the times’ Jaquelyn thinks we are—I’m not exactly comfortable with you sharing a room with Ivy, so keep that in mind.”
“Got it,” I coughed out.
Bradford gripped my shoulder. “Good man.”
That was all I ever wanted to be.
I looked down at the gift in my hand. And I knew what I had to do.