Page 73 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
Matt. And Abby. Dancing right behind Ivy and Oliver.
“What the…”
Ivy puts her hand on her friend’s wrist. “Holly. I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you.”
Holly is peering at the phone. “Matt went on our honeymoon?”
Ivy nods and finds she can’t speak. It’s just too awful.
“Who is he dancing with?”
Ivy swallows hard and manages to get the name out. “That’s Abby,” she says.
“He went on our honeymoon with Abby.” Holly puts down the phone and looks up at Ivy. “And you kept it from me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so afraid it would crush you. And then, when you started to sound so happy, I didn’t want to bring you down.”
“So, that’s why you didn’t stay at the hotel,” Holly says. “It isn’t because it didn’t feel right to you—it’s because Matt was already there. You lied to me. You’ve never lied to me.”
“I know. I did. I’m so sorry. It felt horrible. But I thought I was doing what I had to do. I’m sorry.”
Holly picks up the phone again to look at the photo. “I don’t know,” she says. “This is hard to wrap my head around. You didn’t tell me about Matt and Abby—but you also didn’t tell me you were falling for someone. You didn’t tell me anything about Oliver, any time we spoke. We tell each other everything, Ivy. Always. I don’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ivy says again, because she doesn’t know what else to say. But she can tell from Holly’s expression that it isn’t good enough. She’s messed things up with her best friend—and combined with the pain she feels over Oliver, she’s certain she has never felt worse in all her life.
22
Holly
December 27
Hudson Valley, New York
Early the next morning, Holly climbs the loft ladder to check on Ivy again, as she has several times in the night. Her friend is still breathing slowly and evenly, in a deep sleep that lasted all night. Holly climbs back down to her nest of blankets on the couch, where she slept to give her friend extra peace and quiet, and looks again at Ivy’s phone, but no one has called or texted. “Darn you, Oliver.”
She leans back on her pillow and thinks of the night before, when she reached for her best friend’s hand and told her she didn’t need to beg forgiveness for not telling her about Matt and Abby for one second longer. “I get it,” she told Ivy. “And there’s nothing to forgive. You were trying tobe a good friend to me by shielding me from something that, you’re right, would have been devastating a few days ago. But somehow, today, it’s not. If anything, it makes me more certain than ever that I made the right decision about Aiden. Matt does not deserve even one more moment of my life, or my thoughts.”
Ivy had breathed a sharp sigh of relief and wiped away another tear that had fallen. “And not telling you about Oliver and my feelings for him—I could hardly even admit it to myself, let alone to you. I was afraid telling you about it might jinx it somehow.” At that point, she had looked down at her phone, still devoid of notifications. “But maybe he didn’t feel it as strongly as I did. Maybe he’s upset I left. I’ll get in touch eventually, but right now, I’m just so tired.”
“Of course you are. Why don’t you go up and get in bed, and sleep for as long as you can? If your phone rings, or if he texts, I’ll wake you up.”
Ivy nodded wearily. “I’ll just leave it down here,” she said. “So I’m not tempted to check it every minute. I really need to get some rest.”
Holly had watched as her friend climbed tiredly up the ladder before setting herself up for the night on the comfy couch.
Now she checks her friend’s phone for the umpteenth time. “What iswithyou, Oliver?” Holly mutters through gritted teeth. She can only imagine how sad Ivy will be when shewakes to find out the guy she fell for harder than anyone else in her life has still not reached out.
But then, Holly notices something. A little crescent moon at the top of Ivy’s phone—meaning it has been on “do not disturb” since Ivy arrived. She taps in the passcode without thinking twice—Ivy knows hers, too, and would do the same. Practically the moment she turns off the “do not disturb” function, the phone rings in her hand. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get up the ladder to alert Ivy fast enough, she hits answer.
“Hello?”
A deep, appealing male voice. “Ivy?”
“No, actually, it’s Holly.”
“The best friend. Hello. My name is Oliver Donohue. A friend of Ivy’s from Hawaii.”
“Oh, she told me about you, Oliver.”
