Page 92 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“Jack, you were a kid in terrible circumstances. I would never judge that.”
“Even if you knew I shoplifted and had a juvenile record?”
“I love a bad boy,” I teased before sincerely saying, “Look what you’ve made of your life. That’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
“It still eats at me,” Jack admitted.
“What can we do to make that better?”
“This helps.” He tightened his arms around me.
“Done. What else?”
“Maybe just being able to talk about it.”
“I’m all ears. Anytime.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Do you ever wonder where your parents are?” I delicately asked.
“Sometimes. Honestly, mostly out of spite. I wanted them to know I made it without their help. That’s why I never changed my last name—so there’d be no question it was me. Even though I thought about it a hundred times, wishing I could just leave the past behind. But . . .Jack Holidayreally does have a ring to it.”
That it did. And I couldn’t imagine Jack with any other name.
“That’s understandable. And I’m sure they know. I mean, your pretty face and name are just about everywhere.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he said with a half-hearted laugh.
“I know that doesn’t make it better. But I want you to know I’m proud of you.”
He kissed my forehead. “That’s allthat matters to me.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me how you really feel over all these years. Did you think I was really that stubborn?”
Jack paused for a moment, which surprised me. I’d thought for sure he would have just said,Absolutely.
“Ivy, the timing never seemed right. You were dating someone, or I was.”
“Yeah, you were,” I teased, thinking of his string of costars.
“You have to know that while I cared for those women, they were never you. The thing was, while you are stubborn, I knew you weren’t exactly interested inMr. Holiday’sworld. And maybe your world scared me as much as mine scares you.”
Wow. That was quite the insight. I could see, after how he grew up, how my life might seem as foreign to him as his famous life seemed to me. Especially after this week of being exposed to my family twenty-four-seven.
“Jack,” I hesitated. “I really love that you want to love the things I do. But if you don’t want to eat OREOs or even get really into the holidays, that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through the motions or come to every Christmas wearing matching sweaters and possibly a Grinch hat of shame. You can be honest with me. Always.”
“You want me to be honest with you,” he crooned in sultry tones.
“Uh-huh.”
“Here it is,” he said gravely, making me worry. “The truth is that I love you, and it’s okay if I eat an OREO just because you love them. And I still think it’s pretty chivalrous I’d be willing tofake loving the holidays for you. But . . . I think I was wrong about the holidays. They’re not a joke. My family was a joke.”
I cringed a bit thinking of all my family had put Jack through—even putting him on trial. “Well . . . you’ve been more than exposed to how crazy mine is.”
“Ivy, your family isn’t a joke. They’re just quirky.”
“That’s a word for them. Probably a generous one.” I giggled.
