Chapter Twenty-Four
“Love is friendship that has caught fire.”
Ann Landers
Ivy
I blinked my eyes open, groggy after sleeping—for how long, I had no idea. When they came into focus, all I could see was Jack’s handsome face lying right next to mine. His hat of shame was askew. Mom had given me permission to take mine off for the time being.
“Jack, what are you doing? My parents banned us from sleeping together.”
“Your parents gave me a temporary pardon, at least for a couple of hours. Well, more your mom than your dad.”
“Really? How long have I been asleep? Days?”
Jack chuckled. “Just a few hours. Long enough for me to miss you. How are you feeling?”
I thought about it. “Better. I think I just needed some sleep. And my mom confiscated my phone, so I couldn’t scroll endlessly through stories about you and me.”
It had really been messing with my head.
Jack ran a finger down my cheek. “They don’t know the real story. Our story.”
I held my breath. It was time to face the “real” story. No more running from my feelings or the truth.
I bit my lip. “You’re going to make me own this, aren’t you?” I longed for it and feared it.
“That was the plan. Well, honestly, I was going to leave.”
“You were? Why?” Panic surged through me. I didn’t want him to leave. Which should have told me everything I needed to know.
He tugged on a frosted piece of my hair. “I thought you would want me to after completely obliterating your holidays.”
“You’re not the only one who lied. But you did let Sienna kiss you,” I faux grumbled.
“I detested every second of it.”
“Just out of curiosity, how many seconds was it?”
Jack grinned. “Three seconds tops.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You counted?”
“Ivy, it meant nothing. You believe that, right?”
“I do,” I whispered.
Jack was arrogant and maddening at times, but he wasn’t a liar. Well, you know, unless we were in on it together.
“I’m glad, because I want to give you your Christmas gift.”
“But it’s not Christmas yet. And I probably won’t be able to use the gift card until we get home,” I teased him.
“It’s not a gift card.”
Intriguing. “Don’t you want to wait until Christmas morning?”
“No. I want you to understand how I feel about you right now.”
“Oh,” I squeaked.
“Don’t worry; it should be mostly painless.” He kissed my forehead.
“Jack, I’m just afraid.”
Honestly, that was what this really boiled down to. Okay, and maybe my pride. Jack being right was going to inflate his already big head. His freaking gorgeous big head.
“I know. Guess what? So am I. I don’t want to lose you. So, just promise me you’re going to keep an open mind as I take you on a trip down memory lane.”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay, I promise.”
I owed him at least that. He was, after all, wearing a Grinch hat of shame. And I was super curious about his non–gift card gift. This was so unlike him.
I sat up and ran my fingers through my sticky, tangled hair. I could only imagine how frightful I looked.
Jack sat up too and pulled out from under the bed a . . . well . . . an attempt at a wrapped gift.
“Did you wrap that yourself?”
Jack flashed me a wry grin. “I purposely wrapped it like this. It’s called artisanal wrapping. It’s practically couture.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was thinking more toddler chic.”
Jack scooted over next to me until we both sat against the wall for support. He handed me the wrapped box.
“I honestly love that you wrapped it yourself, even if Emma could have done a better job.”
“I almost asked her for help,” he teased before his voice softened. “Open it.”
I glanced at him and then at the box, knowing that whatever was inside might change my life. It was almost like I knew Jack had given me his heart to unwrap. Of course, I wanted to handle it with the utmost care. Because there was no one in the world I cared about more than him.
Shaky, but determined, my fingers found the taped corner. I peeled it back slowly. Each tear of paper sounded overly loud in the hush between us. Before I could lift the lid, Jack wrapped an arm around me, holding me steady, like he knew I might need it.
I wasn’t prepared for what waited inside: the sweetest handmade book, its pages bound together with ribbon bows. Across the cover, written in Jack’s unmistakable scrawl: A History of Ivy and Jack.
“Oh, my gosh, Jack. What is this?”
“I know you love history books, so I wanted to share one with you about my favorite time period. I’m hoping that if you study it, you’ll come to see just how much I love you and how good we are together.”
My eyes filled with tears. I was a goner for sure.
Anxiously, yet reverently, I picked up the book.
Jack moved the box out of the way, and we snuggled in close to each other.
“Full disclosure: your mom did help with this. But she made me do most of it on my own. Hence, the terrible handwriting.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone’s handwriting but yours in this book.”
I turned to the first page and snort laughed. Staring back at me was a picture of Jack with orange hair. A picture I’d probably texted to him a dozen times whenever his ego got out of hand. But the lines under the photo made me freeze, a lump forming in my throat.
The day Jack Holiday’s life began.
“Jack,” I whispered. “You really believe this?”
“One hundred percent. Do you know how hard I’d been trying to get you to pay attention to me before that day? Did you ever wonder why I was getting my hair done so often?”
“Well, I figured it was because you love yourself.”
Jack laughed. “True, but it was mostly because I wanted to talk to you. There was just something about you, Ivy. There still is. I can’t name it, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Well, that was it. I was officially going to fall in love with my best friend. Dang him.
I turned the page, feeling it best not to blurt that out just yet. I couldn’t give in that easily. Not after seven years of swearing we would never go down this road. But I had this nagging feeling Jack was going to prove we had never really been on the road to friendship.
The next page held a photo I hadn’t even known existed—me, sitting in the little café next to the salon the first time Jack and I met for coffee.
In front of me sat what he always called pretend coffee—basically, a mountain of whipped cream disguised as a latte.
I was smiling at something on my phone, completely oblivious that Jack had even taken a photo.
Ivy didn’t know it, but this is the day Jack fell harder for her.
“Why that day?” My voice cracked with such emotion.
Jack nuzzled my ear, sending a flurry of shivers down my spine.
“Because I loved how easily you laughed, and how every time you drank your pretend coffee, you got whipped cream on your nose and didn’t care what anyone thought of you.”
“I’ve been missing that version of me these past few days,” I whispered. “All I can think about is what everyone else is thinking of me. That’s hard for me, Jack.”
He reached out and tapped the photo gently. “I know. And I know being with me means being in the spotlight sometimes. But the woman in this picture? She’s strong enough to outshine it. You’re strong enough.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “You think so?”
“I know so. Now, keep reading.”
While I contemplated his words, I flipped the page.
There we were together, on a night on the town in Austin.
I’d wanted to see Shadow Protocol with him.
It was the movie that had made him a huge star.
I’d thought it would be fun if we went incognito, so no one would recognize him, and he would get to see the audience’s raw reaction.
(Which of course was amazing and made Jack’s ego swell to dangerous levels.) So, we’d dressed liked spies—hats, sunglasses, and long coats like some cheap Bond knockoffs.
We’d gotten the strangest looks that night.
Of course, I’d insisted we take the selfie staring back at me to mark the occasion.
Under the photo Jack had written:
The night Jack realized Ivy was the coolest girl around and that he was undeniably in love with her.
I had no words. But I had feelings. A flood of them, crashing through me like the tide had finally turned.
Jack must’ve known he’d stunned me, because he turned the page himself, obviously anxious for me to keep reading.
The next photo and caption nearly undid me.
It was me holding baby Emma for the first time. I’d sent the picture to Jack while I was in California helping Paige after her birth.
Ivy didn’t know it, but Jack would stare at this picture for days after she sent it to him. He was in awe of how beautiful Ivy looked holding a baby. Jack never thought he wanted a family of his own until he met Ivy. She made him believe in families. Made him believe in love.
Jack had rendered me completely mute. There were no words that could convey the beauty of the emotions stirring inside me. So, with tears slipping down my cheeks, I turned to the next page of our story and then the next and the next.
It was picture after picture of me or the two of us, tangled in moments I treasured. Some I hadn’t even known Jack had captured with his phone. Each caption was more beautiful than the last. Each one revealed just how long Jack had loved me.
I finally paused on a photo that made my heart beat wildly. Somehow, the moment hit me differently now after reading through Jack’s book.
There we were surrounded by boxes, slumped against a wall in his new house. The house I’d fallen in love with. My head rested on his shoulder, both of us exhausted but smiling. Beneath it, he’d written:
Jack wants to know how Ivy didn’t see that he bought this house for her.
I looked up at him, stunned. “You bought your house for me?”
Jack smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why do you think I let you choose everything? The paint. The fixtures. The flooring. Even my bed.”
“I don’t know . . . I thought maybe you were just too busy, and you needed the help.”
He leaned in, close enough that our noses brushed. “I could’ve hired a decorator, Ivy.”
“This is true.”
“When I bought that house, all I could think of was us.”
Us. Such a small word, but wow, did it pack a punch.
“Jack, why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I wanted to, but you’re so damn stubborn. You seemed hellbent on us staying friends.”
“Guilty.” I laughed.
“Ivy, I know what being with me means. Fame isn’t easy. And I know you’re afraid that being more than friends makes us not safe anymore. But look at our history.”
He reached for my hands, and our fingers interlaced.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt safer with anyone than I do with you.”
Those words pierced my heart . . . and maybe my stubbornness. Obviously, I had more-than-friendly feelings for him. It would be stupid for me to deny it now.
He was my person.
My ride-or-die.
My let’s-stay-in-pj’s-all-day-and-binge-our-favorite-90s-movies person.
And let’s be honest—no one was ever going to kiss me the way Jack kissed me.
But it wasn’t just that. Not even close.
When I was upset, his was the first hand I reached for. When I had good news, he was the one I wanted to celebrate with, even if I was dating someone. And apparently, we already had a house together. Somehow I’d missed that memo.
But I didn’t want to miss another thing.
And if I was being truly honest with myself, I didn’t want to miss my chance with Jack. Look at our history. It was pretty incredible.
“You’ve always made me feel safe,” I admitted. “Well, until recently. Not that you make me feel unsafe. You know what I mean. But I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you. And being in the spotlight is hard.”
“I know it is. And like I said, I’m scared too.” His lips brushed mine. “But I think our history tells us we can do anything together. Even sharing the spotlight. And . . . being more than friends.”
“Jack, are you asking me to be your real girlfriend?”
“I was kind of thinking bigger.” He wickedly grinned. “But girlfriend works for now. I don’t want to scare you off.”
Oh, he definitely knew how to get the pulse racing. Not that his homemade history book hadn’t already made his intentions abundantly clear.
“Let’s start with girlfriend,” I said, “and leave the door open for future title-change negotiations.”
“Well,” he groaned. “Be warned, I’m an excellent negotiator.”
“Maybe,” I said playfully. “But it did take you seven years to prove me wrong.”
“I just let you think you were right for seven years.”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not argue.”
“What should we do instead?” he said in his sultry Jack voice, leaning in closer.
“We should probably kiss. A lot. I want to make sure I’m really nailing the girlfriend role.”
“I guess Santa decided to bring what I asked for. It’s going to be a merry Christmas after all.”
“Very merry.” I pressed my lips to his, ripping off his Grinch hat of shame.
His hand slid up, fingers threading through my hair as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Slow. Intentional. Reverent. And oh so Jack.
I carefully pushed the best book I’d ever read to the side and crawled onto his lap, wanting to be as close to him as possible.
Jack tightened his grip, granting my wish. His mouth moved against mine with a sort of delectable patience, like every second he held back was just fuel for the fire building between us.
In my mind, I started chanting Burn, baby, burn, but Mom quickly extinguished those thoughts.
She barged in unannounced, and Jack and I sprang apart like guilty teenagers. The kiss broke with an audible pop—the kind that would properly make me cringe for the next few days every time I thought about it.
“Oh,” Mom said, one eyebrow arched with alarmed satisfaction. “I came to check on you, but I see you’re feeling better.”
I cleared my throat. “Much better. Thank you.”
“It looks like we aren’t faking it anymore.” Mom’s tone bordered on pleased and I’m still a little salty with you for lying to me.
“Uh, no. Um, actually, Jack and I have decided to be a couple. A real one.”
“I’m so happy for you. Now put your Grinch hats back on,” she half-heartedly snapped, trying to muster up some sternness. “It’s time for dinner.”
“Okay. Thank you. We’ll be down in a minute.”
Mom’s stern exterior turned into a sly grin before she flitted out.
Jack grabbed his hat of shame. “How long do you think we’ll have to wear these things?”
I shrugged, not knowing the statute of limitations for faking a relationship. “Maybe until New Year’s Day.”
Jack grinned, tugging the hat down crookedly on my head. “So, what you’re saying is that we might as well be late for dinner.”
I threw my arms around him. “I was just thinking the same thing.”