Page 25 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“Do you want kids?”
It wasn’t something he’d ever talked about. He knew I wanted at least three. You know, with my nonexistent husband. I was beginning to wonder if that man would ever show up.
Jack perused me up and down, eyes glinting with amusement. “Are you offering, darlin’?”
“Uh, no.” My brain short-circuited. What kind of question was that?
My mom didn’t help at all, bounding up to us in her Santa hat, beaming, pulling a wagonful of cookies. Dad trailed behind her, dragging another wagon like backup reinforcements.
“Well, look how cute this is. Oh, Ivy, he’s a keeper. Look how good he is with kids. You two will have beautiful babies together.”
“Mom.” I cringed. “We just started dating.”
“But you’ve known each other for so long. What else could you—”
“Dating is much different from friendship,” I cut her off before she embarrassed me further and started making wedding arrangements and suggesting names for our children.
Of course, I was going to have two girls named Avery and Adeline and a boy named Henry after my favorite grandpa, but Jack wasn’t going to be their dad. Granted, hewouldgive me gorgeous children. But that was neither here nor there. I wasn’t even sure I could sleep platonically in the same bed as Jack.
It would solve the squeaking issue, but I had a feeling it would introduce an entirely new set of problems. Problems like, What if I liked it? Yeah, I was worried—especially since he looked unfairly amazing holding my niece. And my body had already betrayed me today.
“Not that much,” Mom trilled as she walked off, laughing to herself.
Jack smirked, looking way too smug, like he was actually on board with my mom. Please. This was an act for him. And just to prove how good he was at playing this fake-boyfriend role, he leaned in, voice low, teasing, and deliberate.
“By the way,” he whispered, “I definitely want kids.”
“Careful saying that too loud. You’ll have a hoard of women offering themselves as tribute. Even some of the octogenarians.” I grinned, expecting him to laugh it off.
Instead, he frowned like I’d just let him down.
What was all that about? I didn’t get the chance to ask. We were already being ushered into the common room, where residents—people we’d known for years, people who felt like family—were waiting.
I was especially eager to see Phyllis, my honorary grandma and the woman I’d been visiting since high school. She’d aged like fine wine, sharp as ever and still tellingthe best Hollywood stories. I had a feeling she and Jack would hit it off. She’d been an actress back in the 1960s, but her career had stalled when she refused to play the casting couch game. I’d always applauded her for that.
By the time we reached the common room, it was buzzing.
Buzzing about Mr. Holiday, that is.
I spotted staff members discreetly slipping phones from their pockets, snapping photos like they were trying not to get caught but also couldn’t resist. Oh, gosh. Pictures of Jack in his Cookie Crew sweater weredefinitelyabout to make the rounds online. Unless they couldn’t actually post the pictures—being employees, and, you know, Jack holding my niece, who was a minor.
Please let that be the case.
Paige clued into Jack’s unintended photo shoot and grabbed Emma, who wailed about having to be torn away from him. Apparently, Jack even enthralled toddlers. Honestly, it was nothing new. I’d seen my fair share of women cry when they met Jack. It was weird.
I mean, I had a huge thing for Timothée Chalamet, but you wouldn’t see me bawling my eyes out if I met him—which I was still trying to get Jack to set up for me. For some reason, he refused to. But after this, he owed me, and I was going to make Timothée part of the deal.
I supposed if I went to an award show or two with Jack, I might run into him. Yikes. I couldn’t think about it. Me? At an award show? What was Jack even thinking, asking me? I shoved the thought aside.
Surely, we would break up by then. Right? Sienna would move on to someone new soon. Maybe.
Oh, who was I kidding? She always came back to Jack. Always. Why hadn’t I thought about that before I opened my big mouth and confirmed that we were a couple? I’d poked the grizzly bear. And now I was going to pay for it.
For how long? No one knew. Maybe it would be a good idea to start looking for a designer. Or check to see if Banana Republic could help a girl out.
It didn’t take long for Jack to get swarmed by his adoring fans. I took that as my opportunity to make my way over to Phyllis. I needed a moment away from the insanity that was Mr. Holiday. On my way, I swiped a few cookies from Dad’s wagon. We’d wrapped them individually, each one sealed with a special sticker.Merry Christmas, with love, the Wells Family.
Not that I could eat any cookies. I’d gone a little overboard on the cookie dough that morning.
