Page 78 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“I honestly love that you wrapped it yourself, even if Emma could have done a better job.”
“I almost asked her for help,” he teased before his voice softened. “Open it.”
I glanced at him and then at the box, knowing that whatever was inside might change my life. It was almost like I knew Jack had given me his heart to unwrap. Of course, I wanted to handle it with the utmost care. Because there was no one in the world I cared about more than him.
Shaky, but determined, my fingers found the taped corner. I peeled it back slowly. Each tear of paper sounded overly loud in the hush between us. Before I could lift the lid, Jack wrapped an arm around me, holding me steady, like he knew I might need it.
I wasn’t prepared for what waited inside: the sweetest handmade book, its pages bound together with ribbon bows. Across the cover, written in Jack’s unmistakable scrawl:A History of Ivy and Jack.
“Oh, my gosh, Jack. What is this?”
“I know you love history books, so I wanted to share one with you about my favorite time period. I’m hoping that if you study it, you’ll come to see just how much I love you and how good we are together.”
My eyes filled with tears. I was a goner for sure.
Anxiously, yet reverently, I picked up the book.
Jack moved the box out of the way, and we snuggled in close to each other.
“Full disclosure: your mom did help with this. But she made me do most of it on my own. Hence, the terrible handwriting.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone’s handwriting but yours in this book.”
I turned to the first page and snort laughed. Staring back at me was a picture of Jack with orange hair. A picture I’d probably texted to him a dozen times whenever his ego got out of hand. But the lines under the photo made me freeze, a lump forming in my throat.
The day Jack Holiday’s life began.
“Jack,” I whispered. “You really believe this?”
“One hundred percent. Do you know how hard I’d been trying to get you to pay attention to me before that day? Did you ever wonder why I was getting my hair done so often?”
“Well, I figured it was because you love yourself.”
Jack laughed. “True, but it was mostly because I wanted to talk to you. There was just something about you, Ivy. There still is. I can’t name it, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Well, that was it. I was officially going to fall in love with my best friend. Dang him.
I turned the page, feeling it best not to blurt that out just yet. I couldn’t give in that easily. Not after seven years of swearing we would never go down this road. But I had thisnagging feeling Jack was going to prove we had never really been on the road to friendship.
The next page held a photo I hadn’t even known existed—me, sitting in the little café next to the salon the first time Jack and I met for coffee. In front of me sat what he always calledpretend coffee—basically, a mountain of whipped cream disguised as a latte. I was smiling at something on my phone, completely oblivious that Jack had even taken a photo.
Ivy didn’t know it, but this is the day Jack fell harder for her.
“Why that day?” My voice cracked with such emotion.
Jack nuzzled my ear, sending a flurry of shivers down my spine.
“Because I loved how easily you laughed, and how every time you drank your pretend coffee, you got whipped cream on your nose and didn’t care what anyone thought of you.”
“I’ve been missing that version of me these past few days,” I whispered. “All I can think about is what everyone else is thinking of me. That’s hard for me, Jack.”
He reached out and tapped the photo gently. “I know. And I know being with me means being in the spotlight sometimes. But the woman in this picture? She’s strong enough to outshine it. You’re strong enough.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “You think so?”
“I know so. Now, keep reading.”
While I contemplated his words, I flipped the page. There we were together, on a night on the town in Austin. I’d wanted to seeShadow Protocolwith him. It was the movie that had made him a huge star. I’d thought it would be funif we went incognito, so no one would recognize him, and he would get to see the audience’s raw reaction. (Which of course was amazing and made Jack’s ego swell to dangerous levels.) So, we’d dressed liked spies—hats, sunglasses, and long coats like some cheap Bond knockoffs. We’d gotten the strangest looks that night. Of course, I’d insisted we take the selfie staring back at me to mark the occasion.
