Page 67 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“You’re probably the only Mayberry who’d say it so directly. I was expecting one of those bullshit lines, like I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

The corners of her mouth creep up. “Oh, I’m both. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a Mayberry.”

My heartrate kicks up a notch. She’s the only one of us kids who doesn’t go by Mayberry. “Let’s get some coffee, huh? Wait for Willow together?”

She looks half-tempted to turn me down, but she nods. “Fine.”

We do, and then we’re sitting at a little table in the lobby with cups of coffee, the silence between us awkward and a little antagonistic.

“So you’re pissed at me,” I finally say.

“Obviously,” she tells me. “You’re the one who told me about my dad, but for the past several days you’ve been off doing God knows what while we’re in here trying to cheer him up because he just had a heart attack that’s going to force him into retirement years early, and his bitch wife left him for a podiatrist.”

“Seriously? A podiatrist?”

“The only one in Highland Hills,” she says, her lips twitching. “He treated her bunions. She posted on Facebook that it’s the most romantic thing to have ever happened to her.”

“What didyousay?” I ask, because I know her enough to know she said something.

She laughs. “I commented with a video from her wedding to my dad, where she said meeting him at the Christmas tree farm was the most romantic thing to have ever happened to her. Shecommented that she’s not surprised I’d take his side, as if there’s any other side to take, and then defriended and blocked me.”

She says it offhandedly, as if it doesn’t matter, but I can tell it does. That woman was in her life for years, and it sucks that she’d throw her away so carelessly, as if she’s nothing. Maybe Ivy’s not so different from the rest of us Mayberrys after all.

“I’m sorry, Little Bit. Goddamn. I thought she was different. Jay always seemed so happy with her.”

She grins at me, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “He’s always like that. I think he’s worried that if he ever stops acting happy, he’ll figure out how he really feels and won’t like it.” Then she laughs. “Kind of like how you act like an asshole three-quarters of the time so no one will know you have a bleeding heart.”

“Bite your tongue,” I say, teasing, but the words burrow into me.

“I’ve been trying to talk him into getting a roommate. He could use the extra money, especially if Kerry’s going to take him to the cleaners, and he’s the kind of person who does better having someone else around.” I don’t miss her meaning. She’s staying, but not forever. “I’m going to write an ad for him.”

“You think that’s necessary?” I ask with a laugh. “You tell one person what he’s looking for, and suddenly everyone in town will know.”

“True,” she acknowledges with a bob of her head. “Besides, I’ll be around for a while. I can help him find someone who won’t take advantage of him.”

“Have you talked to Holly about working at the brewery while you’re here?”

“A bit,” she says. “I’m not ready for that yet, though. Dad really does need someone around.”

Guilt slings its arms around me and hugs.

“I didn’t mean to guilt trip you,” she says, giving me some side-eye that slips into a grin. “But if it gets you off your ass, I don’t hate it. Now, what’s this I hear about you and the bachelorette?”

“That’s a different show,” I say.

She nudges my shoulder. “I obviously want to know everything.”

“Don’t you dare put this in a book someday,” I say. “The guys are still handing your fireman romance around at the firehouse, calling me Cupid. If you write about me and Kennedy, I’ll never live it down.”

She gives me another shoulder nudge. A guy sitting at a table across from us is checking her out like she’s dessert, and I scowl at him until he turns away.

“The Cupid nickname has as much to do with our big sisters as it does with me,” Ivy says. “And how would they even know it’s about you and Kennedy unless something happens between you and Kennedy?” she asks, watching me carefully. They see too much, my sisters. They see through me, certainly.

“Rowan?” I look up and see Willow walking toward us, and it’s like someone’s reached into my chest and squeezed. I can tell she’s been crying, and I’ll bet some of that’s because of me. I’ve been an asshole, icing her out when she needs me. They all need me, and I’ve been off moping and daydreaming about the bit of heaven between Kennedy Littlefield’s legs.

Both Ivy and I get to our feet, and I wrap my arms around Willow when she reaches us. I can practically hear Kennedy telling me to let them in—both of them—so I pull Ivy into our embrace.

“Ho-ly shit,” Ivy says, giving each syllable some play. “Rowan Mayberry just initiated a group hug. Sometimes life really is stranger than fiction.”

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