Page 56 of Mistletoe & Magic
I lean back in my chair and just watch her for a beat, the way her hair is messy from the wind, her cheeks still pink from the cold, her lips curved in that smug little smile.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, voice low.
“Yeah.”
I push back from the desk and cross to her side before I think twice.
“Remy,” she laughs softly, but she’s already grinning when I lean down and kiss her, quick but firm.
She squeaks against my mouth, then laughs, swatting at my chest.
“That was for the chip,” I murmur against her lips.
She grabs another chip from the bag, eyes sparking with mischief. “Worth it.”
Ivy heads home to take care of Junie, and I get back to work. The day flies by with all of the things we have to get done. But thanks to Ivy helping, I’m able to get home sooner every night now.
By the time the sun sets, and the last tree is tied to the last roof rack, I’m bone tired but still riding on a high of happiness that I get to go home to them.
Inside, Ivy and Junie are settled at the kitchen table with thebig wooden advent calendar box Finn built for Junie. They’re planning how to paint little numbers on the doors, and Ivy is patiently showing Junie the doors and how to number them.
I stand in the kitchen for a minute, just watching.
Junie is laughing so hard at a joke Ivy told her, she’s clutching her sides, and Ivy’s right there with her, hair falling into her face as she shakes her head. She’s wearing one of my old sweatshirts, sleeves rolled up, and she looks like she’s been sitting at that table with us forever. Like she belonged here this whole time.
Something tightens in my chest, a sharp ache that’s not painful, just overwhelming.
I want this. Without a doubt in my body, I want this so badly.
I want Ivy in my kitchen, Junie laughing, the three of us making new memories instead of just holding on to what could have been.
But I’m afraid to want this.
Ivy looks up then, catching me staring, and her expression softens. Like she sees right through me and likes what she finds there.
“Come sit with us,” she says, patting the empty chair.
I cross the room, sit down next them, and Junie hands me a paintbrush to help paint the numbers.
“Help us, Dad,” she says excitedly.
I nod, but I’m not looking at the box.
I’m looking at Ivy, and the way her smile feels like a promise.
The house is quiet now after a long day.
I push Junie’s bedroom door open just enough to peekinside. She’s asleep, tangled in her blankets, Lola curled up at her feet, her tail swooshing across the covers when she sees me peeking in.
I pull the door closed, leaving it open a crack, and head down the hall.
The kitchen light is still on, casting a warm glow over everything. Ivy’s standing at the counter, making sandwiches for all our lunches tomorrow, her hair loose and falling around her shoulders.
She looks over her shoulder when she hears me, smiling that soft smile that does me in every time.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey. You don’t have to do that. I can make our lunches,” I tell her.
