Chapter Twenty-Five
“In the dance of love, friends make the best partners.”
Unknown
Jack
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked, gripping Ivy’s hand before easing out of her parents’ driveway.
She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, a little smirk tugging at that beautiful mouth.
“After standing trial in front of my entire family last night? Facing down the paparazzi and Sienna almost sounds like eating a piece of cake. Almost.”
Last night had been an event, all right.
We’d been forced to beg for forgiveness for our crimes and try desperately to convince Ivy’s family that our relationship was now the real deal.
If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, I’d also had to assure them I hadn’t kissed Sienna.
I’d had to prove it to them by dissecting the photograph Paige had blown up and hung on the wall.
The jury was everyone over the age of ten.
Ivy’s mom had played the judge. Her dad had refused to take part in the shenanigans and had instead smoked some meat for tonight’s Christmas Eve dinner.
And Emma had pretended to take notes on her Etch A Sketch.
Kaden and Graham, of course, had tried to extort us for their votes, but their parents got wind of it, and now, they wore the Grinch hats of shame.
Thankfully, Ivy and I were hat-free, seeing as we were about to face the public. Granted, we hadn’t been able to opt out of wearing our matching sweaters, which featured Santa with a cashmere beard.
Tori was in her “Flood the Zone” mode. Which meant Ivy and I had to come out of hiding and prove all the negative stories about us wrong. The hope was to reclaim the narrative by leveraging social media and not only beat Sienna at her own game but discredit the kissing photo at the same time.
Ivy and I were going to show the world what real chemistry looked like while shopping for some last-minute Christmas gifts. After seeing how happy my non–gift card gift had made Ivy, I wanted to buy everyone else a real gift from me and not just take credit for the ones Ivy said were from us.
Paige, ever the fierce protector, was currently hunting down Tae with the threat of professional annihilation if he didn’t fess up.
And I had it on good authority that Callan Baxter—yes, the Callan Baxter, the one Sienna had recently broken up with—had arrived in Aspen Lake.
By good authority, I mean Tori had been contacted by Callan’s PR manager, who hated Sienna almost as much as Tori did, and together they’d formed an unholy alliance.
According to Callan’s PR manager, he wasn’t in town to ski, but we didn’t hear that from him.
But I planned on letting it slip to a few of the photographers who were bound to follow us that Callan was in Aspen Lake. Casually, of course.
“If at any point you don’t want to do this, just let me know. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable or like I’m using you as a professional prop or to seek revenge.”
“Not sure I like the sound of being a professional prop,” Ivy teased.
“That sounds kind of kinky. As far as revenge goes, I wouldn’t mind giving Sienna a little taste of it.
Does that sound awful?” She cringed. “Especially with it being Christmas Eve? I know I should be more peace on earth and goodwill toward men, but I think Sienna could use just a tiny taste of karma. Like, the fun-size version.”
“The fun-size version?” I chuckled.
“You know, like the mini candy bars.”
This was why I loved Ivy so much. Only she would compare karmic justice to candy bars.
“I wouldn’t mind if she got served a king-size portion.”
“Well,” Ivy sang, “if that’s what karma has in store for her, who are we to stand in the way?”
I lifted her hand and kissed it. “You are amazing.”
She bit her lip, eyes flicking toward the windshield as we crept toward the edge of her parents’ property, where a dozen photographers waited for us.
“We’ll see,” she murmured.
I eased off the gas and tapped the brakes. “Ivy, look at me.”
She turned, her expression caught between confident and get me the hell out of here.
“Do you want me to turn around?”
She shook her head. “I want to be your girlfriend.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek, her warm lips lingering.
No doubt a dozen telephoto lenses caught it.
“And I know that means being in the spotlight. It’s just going to take some getting used to. Just promise me you won’t ever let another woman touch your lips. Unless it’s on the big screen. And, you know, maybe you could limit that, too. Start playing more celibate characters.” She giggled.
“For you, I would.”
She blinked, shocked. “You would?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “You say my kisses have ruined you for all other men. But what you don’t know is that you have made it impossible for me to kiss anyone else.”
“Jack,” she sighed dreamily, but in a slightly panicked way.
“That’s so sweet, but so, so dangerous. Do you want me to be the most hated woman on the internet?
If I were to stand in the way of your kissing scenes, I’d have to go into hiding.
Women need the fantasy. There are actually memes of you that say, Girls be like, ‘I needed this,’ and it’s just them watching that scene of you making out with what’s her name in your last movie.
There would be blood if I took that away. ”
I laughed and stole a kiss. “I need the real thing, and that’s you.”
“That was a super cheesy line, but wow, it was so good.” She settled back in her seat and let out a huge breath. “All right; let’s do this. Let’s go take back the narrative or whatever Tori said.”
Ivy had no idea what it meant that she was willing to face this with me. “All right, darlin’—smile and wave.”
I eased us toward the zoo waiting for us, making it abundantly clear we weren’t avoiding them and that, if anything, we welcomed their intrusion. We didn’t really, but it was the game we had to play.
Ivy turned on the charm, waving like she was a Disney princess on a float and smiling brightly. You would have never known that just a minute earlier she’d been half tempted to turn around.
I slipped my shades on and gave a practiced nod to the flashing bulbs. Nothing panicked or smug. I just wanted them to know I was in control and didn’t have anything to hide.
Several photographers and reporters surrounded the vehicle, snapping photos and shouting out things like:
“Are you two really together, or is this just more PR spin?”
“Mr. Holiday, care to comment on the Sienna photo?”
“Ivy, how do you feel about Jack’s betrayal? Were you blindsided by the photo?”
“Care to respond to the rumors that your relationship was fake after all?”
“Wow, they don’t pull any punches, do they?” Ivy gritted through her teeth while still flashing an award-winning smile.
“Never,” I murmured, slowly rolling down the window, just enough to give the vultures a comment.
“As you can see, Ivy and I are really together. Now, excuse us; we have some Christmas shopping to do.”
A photographer pounded on Ivy’s window. “Ivy, doesn’t it bother you that Jack was caught kissing another woman?”
To my surprise, Ivy rolled down her window. “You know what bothers me? Sienna kissing Jack without his consent and paying one of you to catch it on camera. What bothers me even more is that Callan Baxter—you know, her ex-fiancé—is in town, and none of you have reported on that.”
The reaction was instant. Cameras stopped clicking mid-shot. A few recording devices actually slipped from stunned hands. Every eye outside the car went wide, the silent consensus clear: Oh, hell—how did we miss that?
Meanwhile, I fell more in love with Ivy. She couldn’t have played it better if we’d scripted it.
“See you in town.” Ivy waved and rolled up her window.
I took advantage of the confusion and sped away, knowing there would be a chase.
Still feeling a surge of affection for Ivy, I blurted, “Marry me right now.”
She blushed, giggled, and nudged my shoulder. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m serious.”
Dead serious. It would be the ultimate Christmas present.
“I believe you, but I think we should try dating for a while.”
“How long?” I begged to know, like a lovesick puppy.
Honestly, I wasn’t ashamed. Ivy had rendered me spellbound. It had been seven years, and I was way past any pretenses.
She laughed and turned up the radio, blasting Christmas music.
I grinned, eyes on the snowy road, elated that she hadn’t outright said no. “Dating it is. For now.”
She glanced my way, offering me a mischievous expression. “For now.”