Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Do I think men and women can be friends? Absolutely not, but it’s sure fun to try.”
Mr. Holiday
Jack
“Goodbye, Un-coh Jack. I love you.”
Emma wrapped a tiny arm around my leg, clutching the music box I’d given her to her chest with the other. She hadn’t let go of it since yesterday morning after unwrapping it. She’d even slept with it.
Watching Christmas morning unfold through her eyes—and through the eyes of all of Ivy’s family—I finally understood what it all meant. It wasn’t about gifts or matching sweaters.
It was about love.
I’d never truly been anyone’s uncle, or son, or brother before, but yesterday, I’d become all those things among the pile of wrapping paper, bright smiles, hugs, kisses, and thousands of thank yous.
And somewhere in all the chaos and laughter, it all clicked why people love this time of year.
And even why Jaquelyn went a little (or a lot) Christmas crazy.
Her traditions were just her way of keeping her family together and showing them how much they meant to her.
I kneeled down and wrapped my arms around Emma.
“I love you, Emma.” The words came more naturally than I’d thought they would.
I caught Ivy’s eye as she stood near the stairs among our luggage, beaming at me. It was weird to see her sans matching Christmas sweater. But she looked like a goddess in her joggers and hoodie, her hair twisted into that impossibly perfect knot on top of her head.
I couldn’t wait to wreck her hairdo.
Jaquelyn threw her arms wide open. “I’m next.”
I quickly shifted my thoughts to more innocent ones. I kissed Emma’s cheek before standing and accepting a bear hug from Jaquelyn.
“I’m so glad you came, Jack,” she said, squeezing me like I’d been hers all along.
Thankfully, she was over the fake-relationship debacle .
. . which I still wasn’t sorry for. It had all worked out just how I had hoped.
Okay, so maybe I’d never intended for Ivy’s family to find out or to be put on mock trial with my fate in the hands of middle schoolers, but other than that, it had been great.
I got the girl.
“Thank you so much for having me. Sorry again for all the trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all. I’m just happy it worked out.” She glanced between Ivy and me, her voice flooding with emotion. “Take care of my girl, and yourself.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And don’t be a stranger. You’re family now.” She gave me one more good squeeze.
The word family had the lump in my throat threatening to form again. “Thank you, Jaquelyn, for everything.”
“I hope someday,” she whispered just between us, “you’ll call me Mom.”
She turned on her heel, practically prancing over to Ivy, leaving me standing there with that single staggering sentence.
Mom.
I hadn’t called anyone that in years.
Before I could get visibly emotional about it, Bradford held out his hand to me, a soft expression on his stately face.
The kind of look that said he wasn’t angry at me for whisking his daughter away a week early.
Honestly, I think he was relieved that the media circus would be over and that he was one step closer to getting his quiet house back.
I took his hand. “Sir.” He deserved the respect. I would be forever grateful to him for talking me into staying. For teaching me that good families fight and are worth fighting for.
“Son.” He grinned.
Damn lump in my throat was growing.
“Give us a call when you land.”
“Will do.”
“We better get going,” Ivy called, saving me from shedding tears.
I rushed to grab our luggage, but her brothers and dad beat me to it.
Drew clapped me on the back. “For the love, just make sure no pictures of you and our sister in any compromising beach positions surface.”
Shane shuddered for effect.
“Okay, thank you.” Ivy cringed, face flushed.
On that charming note, we headed for the car with Ivy’s entire family walking us out. The amount of hugging and kissing cheeks that followed was both heartwarming and claustrophobic for me. But I appreciated it all the same.
I’d been inducted into the Wells family. And I did my uncle duty by slipping cash to every kid. If I was going to be an uncle, I was going to be the favorite one.
By the time we got in the car and were pulling out of the drive, Ivy was sniffling in the passenger seat.
“Goodbyes are always hard.”
I took her hand in mine, gently holding it as she waved goodbye with her free hand until her family was no longer visible.
“Are you sure you’re okay leaving early?”
She flashed me a bright smile, tears shining in her eyes.
“Yes. I’m totally excited,” she stammered out, just short of a sob.
I winced, feeling like a monster. “You don’t sound all that excited.”
“Really, I am.” She sniffed. “I do this every time I leave my family and Aspen Lake.”
“Duly noted.” I grinned.
I stopped at the edge of the property line, noting the photographers waiting for us. “Are you ready for the chase?”
She squeezed my hand tight, bracing herself. “Let’s do it. This is our life now.”
“I like the sound of that. Our life.”
She raised my hand and kissed it.
I eased us down the driveway, steering through the crowd—voices rising, cameras flashing, questions flying:
“Mr. Holiday, what’s your next project?”
“How will you and Ivy be spending the rest of your vacation?”
“Have you heard from Sienna?”
“Are there wedding bells in your future?”
Ivy craned her neck to glance behind us.
Of course, they were following.
She let out a breath that sounded halfway between a sigh and a scoff. “Wow,” she muttered. “Two days ago, they were asking if we’d broken up.”
“They’re all nosy pricks,” I growled.
Now that Ivy and I were together, I found the intrusive questions more annoying. I wished I could shield Ivy from this part of my life, but unfortunately, it was impossible.
Ivy turned around, eyes on me, and deliberately relaxed.
I loved her for it.
The rest of the car ride was us goofily grinning at each other and Ivy belting out her favorite country tunes along with the radio.
My biggest concern was keeping us safe. Unfortunately, too many in the media didn’t care about what traffic laws they were breaking.
“Once we get to the airport, I’ve arranged for valet parking and a porter to take our luggage. I’ve already checked us in. We just need to get to security.”
Ivy nodded. “I’m just glad these vultures can’t follow us through security. Are you sure they don’t know where we’re going?”
“One can never be one hundred percent sure, but even if they do manage to find out we’re in Anguilla, the private villa we’re staying at offers concierge services to keep the paparazzi at bay.”
It was exactly why I’d chosen it.
“So fancy.” Ivy grinned.
I breathed a sigh of relief when we entered the airport and the security there made it difficult for the media to park in the drop-off zone.
A valet opened Ivy’s door, but she waited for me to come around before she exited.
Several cars drove slowly past, getting their last shots in and shouting questions. We ignored them and hustled into the airport hand in hand, our sights set on security. That was until . . . we heard the dulcet tones of Sienna yelling.
“I’m going to sue you all for libel!”
Unable to help ourselves, we turned around to find Sienna, with none other than Callan by her side, doing his best to hurry her along.
But she was clearly unhappy about the headlines that had popped up in the last twenty-four hours.
They painted her almost as a perpetrator.
She’d lost all control of the narrative, and she hated that more than anything. Well . . . almost anything.
Even from a distance, I could see her nostrils flaring as she glared at Ivy and me. The pure rage rolling off her had me instinctively stepping in front of Ivy to shield her, just in case she charged.
Thankfully, Callan had better sense than Sienna and wrapped an arm around her, keeping her steady.
That didn’t stop her from screaming, “I hate you!”
“I can live with that.” I chuckled.
Ivy burst out laughing, and together we turned around as Sienna screamed profanities.
Ivy leaned into me. “Well, that was unexpected and fun.”
“She’s digging her own grave.”
Ivy smirked. “She’s going to need a big one to fit that huge, gaudy hat she’s wearing.” She paused. “Okay, that was petty.”
“I think it was well-deserved. But let’s forget about her.”
Ivy stilled, her face paling. “You don’t think she’s following us again, do you?”
“If she’s on the same flight, we’ll be booking another one,” I assured her.
Ivy let out a sigh of relief. “Perfect. Now, let’s get on with our adventure.”
“You know, speaking of adventures.” I flashed her a grin. “You never gave me an answer about being my personal stylist.”
Ivy bit her lip, heat rising to her cheeks. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. A lot.”
“And?” I was eager for her response.
“And . . . I think we should be married before we make a move like that.”
I jerked my head in her direction. “Are you saying you want to get married? I can make that happen. Like right now.”
“Jack.” She nudged me.
“I’m serious.”
“Believe me, I know. And honestly, I want to marry you. Not today,” she was quick to add. She rested a hand on my cheek. “Can you let me get used to the circus that follows you? To life as your semi-famous girlfriend?”
I took her hand and kissed her palm, elated she wanted to marry me. I would take that win.
“It’s the least I can do for you. I love you, and I’ll be patient.”
“Uh-huh,” she laughed, dropping her hand.
I shrugged. “Okay, so I’ll try to be patient. But, just out of curiosity, what kind of timeline are you thinking here?”
A little smile tugged at those beautiful lips of hers. “Well . . . if you must know.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I promise it won’t take me seven years this time.”
“You are still the most stubborn woman I know. I will take solace in the fact that I at least proved you wrong about men and women being able to be just friends.”
“If you say so,” she sang, pulling me along.
“I am right.” I would die on this hill.
Ivy stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “I was just thinking that no matter what titles we add, you’ll always be my best friend.”
She was good. And she was mine.