Page 26 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Phyllis sat on a chaise in the corner, near one of the twenty-foot Christmas trees, its red and green ornaments shimmering under the lights. She was all class, her silver-white hair done in a perfect coif, dressed in a linen suit, effortlessly commanding the room like she always did. Well, that was until Jack arrived. He commanded any room he was in. But she didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, her crooked smile said Jack intrigued her.
I took a seat next to her and wrapped my arms around her thin body. “Hithere.”
She kissed my cheek, no doubt leaving a pink lip stain mark. “Hello, darling.”
“How are you?” I asked, trying very hard to ignore the Jack-induced chaos behind me and those fawning over him calling him Mr. Holiday.
Phyllis’s gaze flickered to the source of it all. “The question is, how are you?” Insert a long pause. “I’m hearing things, darling.”
If Jack and I were already making headlines in a retirement community, I was toast.
“What things?” I asked, deciding it was best not to volunteer information if I didn’t have to.
Phyllis looked between Jack and me, far too amused.
“Friends have become lovers, I see.”
“Where did you see that?” I shuddered to ask.
“On Instagram, of course.”
“Of course,” I laughed.
Because apparently every eighty-five-year-old had an Instagram account now.
I so badly wanted to tell her and my family the truth, but I didn’t want to make problems for Jack, and Sienna would do exactly that if she knew we’d lied to her. No doubt she would do her best to make trouble anyway, but at least it wouldn’t be the kind that would have the studio canceling a press tour or something. At least, I hoped not. What if this charade was all for naught?
Phyllis took my hand gently, knowingly. “You’re stressed, darling.”
“Yeah, you could say that. I’ve told you all about Jack before, but it’s different being hisgirlfriend.”
I said the word without choking on it, though it still felt odd. Like a pair of shoes that didn’t quite fit but that I was wearing anyway. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to kick them off and go back to the nice, comfortable loafers of just being Jack’s friend.
“The spotlight shines brightly, doesn’t it?”
I nodded. “Too bright.”
“You were made for it, though, darling.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. It’s all in your eyes.”
“Really? I thought my eyes might be screaming for help.”
Phyllis gave a throaty laugh, but her words were anything but a joke. “Darling, it’s the women who don’t crave the spotlight who always look best in it.” She glanced toward Jack. “And I think he agrees. Look how he adores you.”
Against my better judgment, I looked his way, even though I knew—however he might look at me—it was an act. But there he was among a gaggle of admirers, all clamoring for his attention, staring directly at me. Odd. He normally loved working a crowd. Odder still was how utterly enamored he seemed.
For a second, just a second, I bought the act and blushed like I really was his leading lady and we were starring in a wacky holiday rom-com. No one had ever looked at me like that. Like I was his entire world. But this was why he was the hottest ticket in Hollywood.
Flustered, I waved at him. My friend. My best friend.
Apparently that was enough incentive for him to make his excuses and strut our way, leaving his fans sighing and wanting more.
I couldn’t help but smile, but I also felt bad. I’d probably given all those regular women hope that they could snag him. Poor things. If only they knew the truth—that Jack would be “dumping” me soon enough and moving on to his next gorgeous costar.
For now, he excelled at his role as my fake boyfriend. He sat down and slid right next to me, draping an arm around my shoulders and kissing my cheek. Seriously, he was so touchy-feely. Once again, I had to remind my body this was all an act and to knock off the butterflies. There were absolutely no butterflies allowed in this fake relationship.
