Page 68 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“But because it’s Larry, there will be leftovers for days,” Shira says with a smile at her fiancée.
“You can never, ever have enough leftover pineapple-ham sandwiches,” Larry says. Then she glances at Ivy. “Or vegan Manapua Man dumplings.”
Ivy laughs. “This is true. Those are so amazing, I might need to find a way to smuggle some home in my suitcase.” She takes another sip of wine, but the mention of a suitcase has sobered her. She looks across the table, at Larry and Shira snuggled close in the candlelight.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is it hard to make a long-distance relationship work?”
Larry laughs. “Gee, I wonder why you want to know that.”
Ivy blushes and ducks her head. “But seriously…”
Shira glances at Larry. “I think it was harder at the beginning. I won’t lie and say being apart wasn’t agonizing sometimes.”
“Almost all the time,” Larry says. “I missed Shira like crazy. We went months without seeing each other when she was working on a movie. But it also made it kind of exciting, right?”
Shira nods. “Every time we saw each other again, it felt as exciting as the first time. And we had to be really conscious about our relationship. We had to plan phone calls, FaceTimes, visits. We could never take each other for granted—and I think that has trickled down into the rest of our relationship. We’re stronger because of it. I think we always will be.”
“So, there’s hope for you and Ollie,” Larry says. “I promise.”
Ivy sighs, and Larry clocks her somber expression. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Ivy lies. “I guess I do just wish he were here.”
“You two are so cute. I love it.” She lifts up the wine bottle. “Uh-oh, empty.” Shira gets up to find another bottle and change the record, and in the silence, Ivy hears her phone ringing.
She looks at the call display: Holly. “Hello?”
A gasping, wrenching sob. “Ivy?” She hears her friend take what sounds like a deep, painful breath.
“Holly! Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. But…I’m not really okay, no. I need you. I can’t be alone right now, Ivy. I’m so sorry. Please, come.”
20
Holly
December 25
Hudson Valley, New York
Holly turns left on the North Service Road and drives slowly and carefully, because her vision is blurred by the tears that have not stopped falling since she left Aiden’s family’s home, then pulls over at the side of the road to call her best friend.
“I’m coming,” Ivy had told her. “I’ll be on the next flight out. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” And while Holly feels terrible for begging her friend to leave her Hawaiian art retreat and come be with her, as she takes another gulping sob, she knows she had no choice. She really can’t be alone right now. The tears she never shed when Matt broke off the wedding have arrived, and they’re a deluge. Her heart isbroken. But she knows she’s not crying over Matt—or at least, not directly. And she’s not just crying over Aiden, either. All the emotions that have been pent up inside her have rushed to the surface. She’s crying over ten lost years. She’s crying over fooling herself into thinking Matt could ever be the one. And yes, she’s crying because she ruined things with Aiden—and she really, really likes him.
Out of the corner of a tear-blurred eye, she sees a light swinging around at the side of the road. She slows her car even more and looks into the darkness. Among the trees there’s definitely a light, its beam going back and forth, up and down.
Holly stops and rolls down her window, listens. Eventually, she hears a voice, faint but audible. “Mrs. Claws! Mrs. Claws! Where are you, Mrs. Claws?”
She turns off the car and steps out, her tears abruptly forgotten. “George! Mr. Plaskett? Is that you?”
“Hello?” The light is still swinging in the trees, but then George steps out onto the soft shoulder at the side of the road and Holly gasps.
“George! What are you doing out here at night with no coat on?!”
“Oh, dear, I’m just frantic. The latch on my front door has been finicky lately, and I suppose when I said goodbye to my Christmas visitors tonight, and sent Drew off to spend Christmas with his family, it didn’t close properly. I washeading up to bed, and Mrs. Claws normally follows me—but I felt a terrible draft and then saw the door swinging open. And Mrs. Claws was nowhere to be found! She only goes outside with my direct supervision, and never at night. There are wolves, coyotes about. Oh, dear.”
“How long ago was this, George?”
