Page 83 of Mistletoe & Magic
“Not pink,” I say, grinning despite myself. “But we’ll make it perfect for her. I hold up the paint. You can help.”
My mom pats my arm as she heads toward the kitchen. “Good. Because you only get one shot at this. Don’t mess it up. Make it big and make it beautiful.”
I watch her go, my chest aching but steady. This room isn’t just for Ivy. It’s for Junie. For me. For the life we’re going to build if I can just get her to forgive me for being the biggest asshole on the planet. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life giving her the entire world if she wants it.
And I swear to myself, as I open the first can of paint, that I won’t stop until it’s perfect.
Chapter 25
Ivy
Ihave music playing on the speaker in the bookstore’s kitchen, the same soft Christmas playlist I always turn on when I need comfort, but even that feels like background noise against the churn in my chest. It’s not working to cheer me up, it just makes me sadder and think of all the times I played it for Junie. Every song is attached to a memory with them, now. The kitchen smells of cinnamon, sugar, and butter. I’m working on the third batch of cinnamon rolls I’ve baked today, but the sweetness just makes me feel hollow.
I slide the tray onto the counter and stare at it, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “That’s enough,” I mutter, wiping my hands on a towel. I will not bake my way through heartbreak.
Except, of course, that is exactly what I have been doing all day. It helps Willa at her cafe, but I need to start looking forward and planning my future.
I grab a mug of tea and curl into the armchair by the window, tucking my legs underneath me. The mug is hot, almost too hot, but I hold it anyway, letting the warmth bite into my palms. I watch the shadows stretch across thefloor as the afternoon light fades, and the chatter of the shop presses in until it’s almost too loud.
My mind keeps looping back to the barn. To the sharpness of Remy’s voice. The way his shoulders went rigid, the muscle ticking in his jaw, the look in his eyes that gutted me because it felt like he was pushing me away on purpose.
How did we go from kissing like our lives depended on it tothat? Was I just that easy to throw away?
Anger rises first, quick and hot. He doesn’t get to talk to me like that. He doesn’t get to make me feel like I am the one who did something wrong for loving him.
But the anger can’t hold. Not when my heart won’t stop aching.
Because the truth is, I miss him and Junie. So much.
I miss his warm, steady presence in a room. I miss the way his voice gets rough and sexy when he says my name. I miss Junie’s giggles and her socks left under the kitchen table.
And I know what I have been too stubborn to say out loud. Remy has ruined me for any other man. He is it for me. He always has been. Deep down, I think I have known that since we walked through the grove that snowy night when he had a horse-drawn sleigh waiting for us.
The front door opens, and Rowan breezes in like she’s on a mission.
“You look like you’ve been haunting this place,” she says, propping the bat by the door. “I told him off the other day, by the way. You’re welcome.”
I blink at her. “You what?”
“Full Rowan special,” she says with a grin. “He looked like he might pass out. Tate and Finn were there. It was practically a public trial.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Oh, my god. Rowan. Leave it alone. If he wanted to, he would.”
She shrugs, flopping into the chair across from me. “What? Someone had to say it. But honestly, Ivy, he’s not a bad guy. He works harder than anyone I know. He’s a good dad. He’s loyal, solid, and he looks at you like you are the best thing that ever happened to him.”
I give her a skeptical look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” she says without hesitation. “Which is why I’m telling you not to write him off just because he messed up. Everyone messes up. But that man is out there tearing himself apart right now because he hurt you. You think he’s eating? Sleeping? Not a chance. He looks like shit. Just like you.”
“Wait, how do you know that? Who said that?” Suddenly, I’m worried and want to make him a casserole and check on him. Because you can’t turn love off like that. Even though he doesn’t deserve a casserole right now.
The words crack something open inside me. I stare down at my tea, my throat tight. “That’s the problem. I love him. I think I always have. And it scares me, Rowan. Because what if he can’t let me all the way in? Or love me back like I need him to?”
“Then he loses you,” Rowan says matter-of-factly. “But he deserves the chance to try.”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. My heart leaps into my throat. His name lights up the screen, but there is no text, just a missed call that vanishes before I can touch it.
“Text him,” Rowan says gently.
