Page 14 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Sienna stood like a wounded puppy, her eyes big and full of tears. All the while, every passenger in first class pretended not to look.
I wanted to crawl under the seat and rewind the day. Honestly, if I could, I’d have missed this flight altogether.
“ButIvy? She’s a good person—the best. So leave her the hell alone,” Jack warned.
While that was chivalrous, and, dare I say it, a little sexy, I didn’t think it was going to go over well. Jack had locked eyes with a wild animal, and I knew the attack was coming.
Jack expertly maneuvered both of our carry-ons.
“Let’s go, darlin’. The holidays await.” TheVcrease was back when he mentioned the holidays.
It was downright endearing that he wanted to love the things I loved—but knowing it stressed him out made me feel a little guilty.
Granted, he deserved some stress for getting me into this fake dating mess with him. If I ended up in the tabloids, he was getting orange hair—again.
I unbuckled my seat belt and stood to meet everyone’s stares as I slung my bag over my shoulder. Why hadn’t I worn something classier than joggers and a hoodie? Or done my hair nicer?
Oh, right, because when I woke up this morning, I hadn’t expected to become my famous best friend’s girlfriend. Most of the time, I came off as confident. But I had insecurities—plenty of them—and today, they all decided to show up.
All I could think about as I exited the flight was how plain I looked next to Jack, who made jeans and a button-up look runway worthy.
Then came the real spiral—were there OREO crumbs on my lips? Or worse, did everyone know about the cellulite where my butt and thighs met? Listen, I went to the gymreligiously, but that layer of fat was indestructible. In some ways, I’d become kind of proud of it, knowing that my peasant ancestors’ genes were alive and well and my body had my back if there was ever a famine. But today, it was just a reminder that I was anything but perfect.
Jack would have said something about the cookie crumbs if they existed, right?
I rubbed my lips together, just in case, and numbly walked toward the exit, where the pilot and flight attendants—all female and all eager—practically jumped up and down as they waited to tell Jack, “Thanks for flying with us,” as breathily as possible.
Which, frankly, sounded a lot like:Please, Mr. Holiday, let us birth your babies.
I was used to this behavior, but it seemed in poor taste considering he was with hisgirlfriend—akame. And speaking of me, all I got were a few limp waves from the flight crew. I could hear them all now telling their friends they met Mr. Holiday and his new girlfriend, and they couldn’t believe how blah I was.
I breathed a tiny sigh of relief once we made it to the gate. All I wanted was to sprint straight to baggage claim. I needed my mommy, even if I was about to lie to her face.
“Here, let me take my carry-on.” I reached for my suitcase.
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t carry your luggage?” Jack winked.
“Uh, the fake kind.”
Jack shot me a chagrined look but held on to my suitcase.
I didn’t argue. I just kept moving forward, letting the rustic elegance of my hometown airport—its floor-to-ceiling windows and breathtaking murals of the lake and ski slopes—wrap around me. But even Aspen Lake’s charm couldn’t settle my nerves. My only solace was that this town was a winter playground for the rich and famous, which meant not everyone was gawking at Jack as we walked through the terminal.
That brief reprieve shattered the second we stepped into baggage claim. Front and center stood my parents, all my siblings, the spouses of the married ones, and their gaggle of kids—most of whom were up way past their bedtimes, decked out in Santa hats and holding the most ridiculous signs imaginable.
Signs featuring our faces surrounded by hearts, proudly declaringIvy & Jack Forever.
My cute-as-a-button three-year-old niece, Emma, even held up one that read:I’ve been waiting my whole life for this to happen.
What in the actual holiday hell?
Jack took it all in, beaming and chuckling like this was the best moment of his life. Meanwhile, I stood frozen, dangerously close to puking.
How did my family already know?
Sure, news traveled fast in Jack’s world—but the flight hadn’t even been four hours long. What kind of madness had happened while I was trapped in the unfriendly skies? Honestly, I was afraid to find out. Terrified, even.
Allmy scary questions were answered the moment my petite mom rushed toward me, arms flung wide, her Santa hat jingling with every step. It bobbed atop her thick, shoulder-length hair—dark as espresso, with silver strands she refused to call gray. I’d promised to touch up her roots while I was home, though she insisted they gave her “timeless wisdom.” Everyone got fresh cuts and dos when I came home.
