Page 33 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Jack and I walked out into the cold, blustery mountain air after retrieving our coats. The store owner had kindly taken them for us when we’d walked in, probably hoping to make Jack as comfortable as possible while he shopped. Or she just wanted to stroke and sniff his coat, which, admittedly, smelled amazing, like a spiced cookie.
She’d probably also hoped he’d spend a fortune at her boutique. Too bad she didn’t know Jack. Not that he wasn’t a generous guy. He was. He donated his time and money to lots of different causes. But he was not a gift-giver. Unless you counted OREOs, ice cream, and tampons, which I totally did. Or more importantly, just being a sounding board and a hand to hold when I needed it. Those were the best gifts in my mind.
But you couldn’t really blame him for not being the present type. From what I could tell, he hadn’t received many gifts as a child, not even the kind money can’t buy. I think his Grandma Ruth tried to do what she could, but they didn’t have a lot to give in terms of money or time.
I really wished Jack would open up more to me about his past. Maybe he was saving that pain for the woman he would spend the rest of his life with.
As soon as I put my beanie and gloves on, Jack took my hand.
My eyes darted around to see who might be snapping pictures of us. Sure, I was used to Jack having his picture taken wherever we went, but this was different. I had now become a person of interest to strangers. And not necessarily in a good way.
I had to keep reminding myself that this was only temporary. Someday soon, my life would go back to normal. Right?
A few shoppers carrying bags full of presents stared at us, but thankfully, I didn’t see any phones come out. Even so, the women looked me up and down, their eyes asking what mademeso special. Or maybe that was just my insecurities talking.
Breathe,I reminded myself.
I liked myself and had never felt the need to be anyone I wasn’t. Well, at least not since I was fourteen and wanted to be Vanessa Hudgens because she was dating Zac Efron. I now realized how dumb it was of me to want to date a celebrity. Never again. Not even if Timothée Chalamet came calling.
Well . . . maybe him.
Wait . . . no . . . just no. My new motto was,Just say no to famous men.
I felt more in control of my emotions when we arrived at the town square lit up like a winter wonderland, a humongous real Christmas tree as the centerpiece. I bet if the mayor had known Jack was coming to town, they would have waited to light it, letting him do the honors.
Carolers, dressed like Charles Dickens characters, serenaded the crowd with holiday classics. For a moment, Iforgot I was pretending. Forgot I was supposed to be in love with my best friend. I just reveled in the holiday magic swirling around us. Let it fill me. Warm me.
I leaned into Jack. “Merry Christmas.”
“Uh, yeah.” He sounded dazed and overwhelmed, like I’d just knocked the wind out of him.
I glanced up to find that Jack looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his body rigid and eyes wide.
“Do you want to go back to my parents’ place?” I knew he hated the holidays, but I’d never realized how much. Until now.
Jack shook his head and put on a fake smile. “No. I want to do this.”
His words were firm, but his tight jaw said he wanted to be anywhere else.
I squeezed his hand. “I’m here for you, Jack.”
He offered me a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” I nudged him with my hip.
He flipped on the actor switch. “Just try to keep up with me on the rink. I’ve trained with the Dallas Stars hockey team.”
Normally, I would let him get away with the deflection and toss back that I’d been ice-skating since I was three, but I couldn’t. This was too important. I met his gaze.
“Someday we’re going to talk about this. And your past.”
Jack’s cheeks, red from the cold, paled, like I’d just delivered devastating news. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came. Instead, his eyes begged me to drop it.
“Friends don’t let friends fake date or hurt alone,” I whispered when he said nothing.
His gaze softened, but he still looked terror stricken, like I might unearth a deep, dark secret. Which made me wonder what he was hiding.
Jack got a reprieve when I heard a chorus of teen girls squeal, “Oh, my gosh, there’s Sienna!”
