Page 42 of Mistletoe & Magic
It’s been almost a week since Ivy fell asleep against me on the couch and then kissed me on the cheek. And damn if I haven’t wanted to pick her up and kiss the hell out of her every day since. I’m trying my best here, but keeping my distance is getting harder every day.
I stand near the farm stand, scanning the rows of people. The farm feels different this year and looks like something out of a movie. Lights strung between the trees glow soft gold against the gray afternoon sky. Every time I turn, I catch sight of plaid scarves, red cheeks, and smiles that make the hard workI’ve poured into this feel worth it. I think my uncle would be proud of what I’ve done to carry on his legacy with this place.
I glance at the photographer, who waves me over. “Come on then,” I tell Junie, taking her small hand in mine.
She’s warm from running, bundled in her puffy purple coat, hair escaping her hat in wild curls. She wraps her arms around mine, and I feel that familiar pull in my chest. This kid is my entire world, right here. Everything I’m building and everything I’m doing is for her.
We take our place in front of the barn where the wreaths hang and the photographer has staged a backdrop for photos. Junie wiggles into place, grinning at the camera.
The photographer lifts her hand. “Perfect. Just the two of you? Or do you want?—”
“Wait!” Junie cuts her off, her voice ringing clear. She spins, searching the crowd. “Ivy!”
Ivy freezes at the edge of the group, caught like a deer in headlights. She’s holding two paper cups of cocoa, one halfway to her lips.
Junie is bouncing, hat sliding over one eye. “You are family. Family gets in the picture.”
The word lands in my chest and sits there, warm and heavy. I look at Ivy. She laughs, nervous, already backing up like she is protecting us from a line we did not draw. I feel the old reflex rise, the one that keeps things tidy and safe, and I choose not to use it. “Get in,” I say, and my voice comes out softer than I expect. I make room at my side, and Junie wedges herself between us, grinning so hard her cheeks bunch. Ivy steps close. I can smell cold air and sugar on her scarf. The shutter clicks. Something eases in my ribs. It still scares me. It also feels right.
My heart does a strange kick. I watch Ivy hesitate, cheeks pink, eyes darting like she’s still not sure if she belongs.
She does. God help me, she does. I can fightthis, but the truth is everyone loves having Ivy here. She fits in better than I could have imagined. But that’s not the problem. The problem is,will she stay?
She stands next to Junie, smiling, tucking her hair behind her ear. Junie tugs her in closer, giggling. The photographer lifts the camera and takes more photos.
And before I even think about it, my arm goes around Ivy’s shoulders. Natural as breathing. Like my heart knew before my brain. She goes still, just for a second, then leans into it. Warm. Soft. The scent of her hair, vanilla and something floral, curls up around me.
“Okay,” the photographer says, snapping away. “That’s the shot. Big smiles.”
Junie beams, and Ivy laughs, a sound that I love hearing. And me, I just stare straight ahead, my arm locked around her like I might never want to let go.
The camera clicks, one frame after another, but the real moment isn’t the photo. It’s the weight of Ivy against me, the way she feels like she belongs right here, tucked into the frame of my family.
The photographer lowers her camera. “What a beautiful family. You three look perfect.”
Three, not two.Three.My heart echoes the word.
Ivy pulls back gently, her eyes catching mine for just a second, wide and startled, like she felt it too. Then Junie grabs her hand and drags her toward the farm stand, chattering about sprinkles for sugar cookies.
I stay rooted where I am, the ghost of her warmth still pressed to my side. For the first time in a long time, the farm doesn’t just feel full of other people’s holiday magic.
It feels like it could be mine, too.
The photographer’s assistant hands me a sample printout of the picture she just took. I look down, and my chest tightens.
It’s me, Junie, and Ivy, all together in front of the barn. Junie grins as if she just won the lottery. Ivy smiling, her cheeks flushed. My arm firm around her shoulders, like it’s holding her where she belongs.
The word that lodges in my throat isfamily. Something I have desperately wanted of my own, my whole life.
“Remy.”
I turn and find my mother watching me. Donna, the one person who can read me better than anyone in the world. She plucks the print from my hand before I can react.
“Oh my,” she says, her smile widening. “Now if that isn’t a Christmas card.”
“Ma,” I warn.
She ignores me, tilting the photo toward the light. “Look at you. The broody Christmas tree farmer looking so happy. And Ivy looks radiant. Junie looks like she just pulled off the best scheme of her life. This is…well, this is perfect.”
