Page 74 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“Shh. It’s okay. You didn’t ruin Christmas.”
No.
Idid.
And I hated myself for it.
“Why don’t you take Ivy to her room, and I’ll make her some tea.” Jaquelyn gave me a meaningful look that said she still hadn’t forgiven me, but until Ivy felt better, there would be a truce between us.
I caught Bradford’s eye, and his expression said he damn well better not hear any bed squeaks. He didn’t need to worry on that account. I would never take advantage of Ivy. You know, more than I already had by asking her to be in a fake relationship and then humiliating her in front of the world and throwing her into a PR disaster.
I wasn’t winning any best friend or fake-boyfriend awards.
In silence, I carried her up to her old room and laid her on the bottom bunk, pulling a comforter over her. She snuggled under it like it would protect her somehow. Did she feel like she needed protection from me?
Feeling gutted, I kneeled next to the bed and smoothed her brow, her wide eyes staring back at me.
“Jack,” she whispered. “What are we going to do? My family is mad at me. Half the world thinks I’m a home wrecker and a joke. The other half feels sorry for me. I have frosting in my hair and cramps from hell. And we’re . . . well . . . I don’t know what we are,” she cried. “I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” I promised.
“Things have changed, Jack.”
“They have, but—”
Jaquelyn walked in carrying a trayful of medicine and tea without knocking, interrupting us.
“I’ll take it from here.” She wasn’t exactly curt, but she was all business.
All the motherly love she’d shown me previously had disappeared.
Not that I blamed her. I’d lied to her and reduced Ivy to a tearful mess with frosting in her hair and her picture in the tabloids. I’d ruined everyone’s Christmas. Why I ever thought I would be good at the holidays, I didn’t know. It was probably best if I left. Maybe then they could at least salvage Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
For once, I’d been looking forward to celebrating “the most wonderful time of the year,” but I’d only proven that I’d been right in years past to skip the holidays.
And maybe if I left, the paparazzi would follow. I’d head to LA and try to smooth things over with the studio execs in person. Do my best to salvage what was left of my image.
Damn Sienna.
I hated the thought of leaving Ivy, but she clearly needed some time, and maybe this way, her family would forgive her and realize I was the villain.
I kissed Ivy’s cheek before I stood, making way for Jaquelyn to tend to her daughter.
“I really am sorry, Jaquelyn. For everything.”
She said nothing, but if I wasn’t mistaken, her facial features softened.
I strode out of the room, determined to—if nothing else—give Ivy and her family a chance at the kind of Christmas they deserved.
Pulling out my phone, I fired off a quick text to my personal assistant Lacie.
Me:Please see if you can get me on the next flight out of Aspen Lake.I don’t care where to.
Hell, I’d fly to Antarctica if I had to. The sooner I left, the sooner Ivy and her family could get back to their holiday without the chaos I’d dragged in behind me.
While I waited for her reply, I glanced over the railing into the family room below. The massive Christmas tree stood there, tall and glowing—ornaments gleaming, presents perfectly stacked. It felt as if the tree were laughing in my face.
And then I saw it—Ivy’s gift. The haphazard wrapping job, crooked bow, and terrible handwriting on the tag. Proof that I wasn’t good at everything like Ivy had accused me of earlier.
