Page 67 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
She laughs. “That was just part one. Okay, go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He kisses her deeply. “Merry Christmas, Ivy,” he says, his voice soft. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
One more parting kiss, and he’s gone.
Later, back in her bedroom, Ivy sees the gifts and card on her pillow.
“Open the presents first” is scrawled across it.
Inside the box is a pendant on a delicate gold chain. The pendant is aqua blue, a similar color to his eyes, she notes, but studded with golden flecks. It reminds her of the way the sun dapples the ocean as it rises. She puts it on and misses him even more.
The second package is a framed photograph. One of Oliver’s waves, stunning in its powerful simplicity. She smilesat his signature in the corner and knows this is a photo she will always treasure.
Then she opens the card.
Dear Ivy,
The pendant on the necklace is a Kauai Ocean Opal. The color reminds me of the ocean, and specifically the wayyoudraw the ocean with your pastels—the perfection with which you capture sunlight on waves.
The print is of one of the first wave photographs I ever took. I think it might have been the moment I realized I wanted to be a photographer. I think—I hope—you might find that inspiring.
I can’t wait to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Twenty-four hours feels like forever.
Merry Christmas.
Yours, Oliver
Suddenly, Ivy is blinking back tears.
I think—I hope—you might find that inspiring.
But he doesn’t understand, does he? Just because she feels inspired, just because she loves making her art more than anything else, does not mean she can upend her life. Only, was that what he was even asking her to do, earlier? Her inner voice tries to get her attention with that. He was just trying to suggest there were other lifestyles outthere—and that maybe they had a future, one he was wondering about.
Ivy gets out her art supplies and sets up her easel, but she can’t concentrate. Every time she lifts her hand to draw, all she can think of is the color of Oliver’s eyes, the texture of his hair. What is she so afraid of? Why can’t she truly give in to her feelings for him?
“Merry Christmas!”
Larry is standing at the top of the stairs wearing a Santa hat over her tumbling dark curls.
Ivy smiles. “Good morning.”
“I see Oliver is off on his camping trip. But I hope you two had a great night last night?” She raises her eyebrows.
“We did,” Ivy says, trying to keep her tone lighter than she feels.
“You’ll join us later? We’re going to have a big dinner, and I’ll be cooking all day, and making festive cocktails.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ivy says. “I’m going to finish this and then I’ll come down.”
Ivy sets back to work, struck by a sudden idea. She draws the beach, and then Oliver and Larry walking on it with their surfboards, the way they looked the first morning she saw them out there. Two soulmate best friends. She feels a twinge—she misses Holly—and pours that emotion into finishing the drawing.
Oliver will be back the next day, she tells herself as shesets the pastel drawing out to dry. They can talk. They’ll figure this out, what their future could look like. Everything is going to be fine.
“Cheers!” Larry says. “To new friends, and to love.” She looks to Shira, her face aglow with happiness in the candlelight. “Enduring love. Merry Christmas, everyone!”
“Merry Christmas!” Ivy repeats, feeling a dull ache in her heart at how much she still misses Oliver, especially after their argument. She clinks glasses with her new friends, sips her wine, then puts her glass down and leans back in her chair. “That was an amazing dinner.”
“I know, I’m sorry Oliver missed it.”
