Page 81 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Jack grabbed his hat of shame. “How long do you think we’ll have to wear these things?”
I shrugged, not knowing the statute of limitations for faking a relationship. “Maybe until New Year’s Day.”
Jack grinned, tugging the hat down crookedly on my head. “So, what you’re saying is that we might as well be late for dinner.”
I threw my arms around him. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“In the dance of love, friends make the best partners.”
Unknown
Jack
“Areyousureyou’reready for this?” I asked, gripping Ivy’s hand before easing out of her parents’ driveway.
She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, a little smirk tugging at that beautiful mouth.
“After standing trial in front of my entire family last night? Facing down the paparazzi and Sienna almost sounds like eating a piece ofcake. Almost.”
Last night had been an event, all right. We’d been forced to beg for forgiveness for our crimes and try desperately to convince Ivy’s family that our relationship was now the real deal. If that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, I’d also had to assure them I hadn’t kissed Sienna. I’d had to prove it to them by dissecting the photograph Paige had blown up and hung on the wall.
The jury was everyone over the age of ten. Ivy’s mom had played the judge. Her dad had refused to take part in the shenanigans and had instead smoked some meat for tonight’s Christmas Eve dinner. And Emma had pretended to take notes on her Etch A Sketch. Kaden and Graham, of course, had tried to extort us for their votes, but their parents got wind of it, and now,theywore the Grinch hats of shame.
Thankfully, Ivy and I were hat-free, seeing as we were about to face the public. Granted, we hadn’t been able to opt out of wearing our matching sweaters, which featured Santa with a cashmere beard.
Tori was in her “Flood the Zone” mode. Which meant Ivy and I had to come out of hiding and prove all the negative stories about us wrong. The hope was to reclaim the narrative by leveraging social media and not only beat Sienna at her own game but discredit the kissing photo at the same time.
Ivy and I were going to show the world what real chemistry looked like while shopping for some last-minute Christmas gifts. After seeing how happy my non–gift card gift hadmade Ivy, I wanted to buy everyone else a real gift from me and not just take credit for the ones Ivy said were from us.
Paige, ever the fierce protector, was currently hunting down Tae with the threat of professional annihilation if he didn’t fess up.
And I had it on good authority that Callan Baxter—yes,theCallan Baxter, the one Sienna had recently broken up with—had arrived in Aspen Lake. By good authority, I mean Tori had been contacted by Callan’s PR manager, who hated Sienna almost as much as Tori did, and together they’d formed an unholy alliance. According to Callan’s PR manager, he wasn’t in town to ski, but we didn’t hear that from him. But I planned on letting it slip to a few of the photographers who were bound to follow us that Callan was in Aspen Lake. Casually, of course.
“If at any point you don’t want to do this, just let me know. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable or like I’m using you as a professional prop or to seek revenge.”
“Not sure I like the sound of being a professional prop,” Ivy teased. “That sounds kind of kinky. As far as revenge goes, I wouldn’t mind giving Sienna a little taste of it. Does that sound awful?” She cringed. “Especially with it being Christmas Eve? I know I should be morepeace on earth and goodwill toward men, but I think Sienna could use just a tiny taste of karma. Like, thefun-sizeversion.”
“The fun-size version?” I chuckled.
“You know, like the mini candy bars.”
This was why I loved Ivy so much. Only she would compare karmic justice tocandy bars.
“I wouldn’t mind if she got served a king-size portion.”
“Well,” Ivy sang, “if that’s what karma has in store for her, who are we to stand in the way?”
I lifted her hand and kissed it. “You are amazing.”
She bit her lip, eyes flicking toward the windshield as we crept toward the edge of her parents’ property, where a dozen photographers waited for us.
“We’ll see,” she murmured.
I eased off the gas and tapped the brakes. “Ivy, look at me.”
She turned, her expression caught between confident andget me the hell out of here.
