Page 75 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
The thought struck me:I should give her the gift before I go.At least then she’d know I’d tried to do the holidays. Tried to love the things she loved. Failed spectacularly—but tried.
I headed downstairs to the sounds of Ivy’s family decorating their gingerbread-mansion masterpieces echoing through the house. It was a punch in the gut. A reminder that I’d disappointed every one of them. Maybe someday I could fix it. But today wasn’t that day.
Lacie:I can get you on a 7pm flight to Denver. Does that work? Everything okay?
No, it wasn’t, but I was sure she knew, given all the online gossip.
Me:Please book the flight and then a connecting one to LA. Thank you.
And just like that, I was done with the holidays.
All I had left to do was give Ivy her gift, pack, and say my goodbyes.
Easy enough, or so I thought.
“What are you doing?” Bradford’s steady, deep voice caught me by surprise while I retrieved Ivy’s gift from under the tree. He probably thought I really was the Grinch, here to steal all their gifts.
I straightened, abashed and clutching the crookedly wrapped box in my hands like I’d stolen crime scene evidence.
“I was just . . .” I cleared my throat. “Just getting Ivy’s gift. I wanted to give it to her before I left.”
Bradford tilted his head. “You’re leaving?”
“I figured it was for the best under the circumstances. I apologize for lying to you and your family and for all the trouble with the press. It was never my intention to hurt any of you, especially Ivy. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I do love her. And I didn’t kiss Sienna.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
I thought that was obvious.
“Because your family deserves a good Christmas.”
“And you don’t?”
I swallowed hard. “No, sir. Not after what I’ve done.”
“And what’s that?”
Was this a rhetorical question? Or did he just want me to articulate my crimes? If that was what he wanted, fine. I could oblige.
“Besides managing to tick off every member of your family?” I let out a jagged breath. “I threw the woman I love into a media circus and let her become tabloid fodder. And I worried her so much, she’s sick now. So, I’m going to take my parting bow and let you salvage your holidays.”
Bradford didn’t respond right away. He just looked at me like he was sizing me up.
“And you think leaving is going to make my daughter happy—or any of us, for that matter?”
“I figured it would.”
“That’s not how families work, son. At least not this family.”
Did he just call meson?
No one had called me that in years. Not since my mother left. It hit so hard, I sank into the nearest chair before I realized I’d even moved.
Bradford lowered himself onto the edge of the coffee table, knees nearly touching mine like we were about to have the first real man-to-man talk of my life.
“Listen, Jack,” he said sincerely. “Even the best families are messy. But just because you screw up doesn’t mean we kick you out.”
He paused, then pointed to the monstrosity perched on my head. “I mean, Jaquelyn might make you wear that ridiculous hat for a few more days.”
