Page 12 of Mistletoe & Magic
I look up, and Ivy is standing inside the door, cheeks pink from the cold, a little puff of breath hanging in the airbefore it vanishes. The knit hat with the ridiculous pompom sits crooked on her head, and her hair spills out around her shoulders in loose waves that look warm even when the room is not. Snow crystals cling to a few strands and catch the light. Her eyes find mine and go soft. Her mouth curves, full, and I feel something shift under my ribs.
She is bundled in a simple coat, zip half done. Black leggings tucked into worn boots that have seen their share of salt and slush. Nothing fancy, yet she looks amazing. She steps farther in and the scent of cold air and something sweet moves with her, like sugar and pine.
The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear should not take my breath, but it does. The way her green eyes flick over the room and then come back to me like I’m the answer she was looking for—that’s what does me in. She’s adorable in her hat and the too-long sleeves.
She’s breathtaking in the way she carries herself, steady and open, like she belongs anywhere she decides to stand. It does not matter what she’s wearing. She could walk in here in that sweater or in a dress or in old flannel, and I would feel the same punch. She’s just…Ivy. She steps into my space and knocks the air right out of me.
She hefts a big brown paper bag from a grocery store onto the counter and beams. “I brought you some things, and I’m looking for your Christmas decorations, and I can’t find them anywhere. I thought Junie and I could make the place a little more festive after school.”
She continues, and I can’t really follow everything she’s saying because I watch her walk around and take in the shop, smiling and chatting away, and I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“Decorations are in the shed behind the house,” I say, my voice coming out gruffer than I mean. Then I clearmy throat and say, "I can get them later and put them in the garage if you want to look through them. I don’t have time to decorate."
She tilts her head, studying me for a beat, like she can read the shift in me. “You don’t want to help?”
“I’ve got a lot to do.” It is not a lie, but it is not the reason. The real reason is her. Being around her makes my thoughts drift to places they should not go. To things I can’t have. It did not start last week or even this fall. It started the first time she laughed at Junie’s knock-knock joke and then bent to tie Junie’s boot because the lace kept dragging through the slush.
It started the night I saw her in the bookstore window, head tipped toward Willa as they worked together.
It started in quiet ways that stacked up. The way she listens with her whole face. The way she notices the small things that make a day easier and then does them without asking for credit.
The way she talks to people like they matter. Even when they don’t deserve it.
Derek the dickhead did not deserve any of that sweetness. I watched her try to make that mess work with a man who did not look up when she walked into a room. I saw her get smaller every time he brushed her off. That is the kind of thinking she brings out in me. I notice everything.
So I stayed back. Out of respect and self-preservation. Because it is one thing to want someone you cannot have. It is another to want them while they are standing beside a man who does not see them, and to pretend you feel nothing while you watch. I kept my distance because Junie needs steady, and I don’t invite storms into my house. I kept my distance because if I let myself reach for Ivy once, I don’t know that I would stop.
So yes, I have work to do. There is always work. But the truth sits right under it. If I don’t put space between us, I’ll start imagining a life I don’t get to have, and I am not sure I could hide it if I did.
She smiles a little, but there’s something in her eyes, something that says she knows I’m keeping her at arm’s length. “All right. Junie and I can handle it.”
I nod and stare at her, my eyes cutting away before it gets weird.
“What were you laughing at when I walked in?” She asks as she stands close enough for me to notice that she smells really good. She leans in and smiles at me that practically makes me come unglued. Her big green eyes meet mine, and her head tilts a little.
I lean back against the counter, still trying to get the image of my kid wrestling a seagull out of my head. “Junie was baiting seagulls at recess.”
“Baiting them?”
“With gummy worms.” I confirm.
Her lips twitch as if she’s already trying not to laugh. “Oh, no.”
“And she caught one. With her bare hands.”
Ivy gasps, and then she laughs, a full, warm, head-tipped-back laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“She named it Sully.”
That does it. She doubles over against the counter, giggling so hard. “Oh my God, I love her.”
My heart surges when she says that.
I shake my head, still smiling despite myself.
Ivy straightens, cheeks flushed from laughing, eyes bright. “She’s a great kid. I really love being with her. I promise I'll do a good job as her nanny.”
Something in my chest shifts. I’ve heard people say nice things about Junie before. Her teachers, my mom, neighbors and friends, but not like this. Not with the warmth that Ivy has.
