Page 63 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Begrudgingly, I moved over, not wanting to make a scene. However, I didn’t plan on breaking up with Ivy. Ever.
When I landed three people over from Ivy on the outskirts, she caught my gaze, nibbling on her bottom lip. Her eyes said,Sorry, all the while begging me to explain what had happened in the kitchen.
I knew what happened.
I had prematurely blurted again.
When it came to Ivy, I had zero game. Maybe because the last thing I wanted was to play games with her, and I was tired of hiding my feelings. Regardless, I had meant to lead her slowly to the big reveal on Christmas morning. But the way she kept kissing me and being so damn cute with her family as she styled and cut each member’s hair, not to mention I was still shook up over last night’s encounter with Sienna, I couldn’t help but basically spell out my feelings for her.
Could she really be so stubborn as to not understand what my offer meant? What my kiss meant?
I’d been anxious to talk to her, but her dad had kept me occupied up until the minute it was time to be placed in our poses. His need of help moving furniture for the family photos had obviously been a ruse. He was a strong man,and the couches hadn’t even been in the way. But it had given him time to give me the “dad talk.”
The one littered with subtle questions and well-placed pauses and meaningful looks. The one that didn’t outright say,You better be careful with my daughter, Jack, but made sure I felt it anyway.
He obviously wanted to know my intentions. But more importantly, he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t hurt Ivy. That my Hollywood persona was just that.
I had tried my best to convince him that my intentions were pure, and I wasn’t the character I played in movies or the person the tabloids sometimes depicted. I swore I would never knowingly hurt Ivy. Not sure if he believed me.
Ivy closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. I knew that look. She was debating. This could be good. Or infinitely bad. Because once Ivy made up her mind, it would take an act of God to change it.
That was what I’d been hoping for this entire trip—for the guy upstairs to throw me a bone. In other words—a miracle.
And . . . maybe I was about to get one.
Ivy opened her eyes and exhaled, loud enough for me to hear. “Is it okay if I still stand by him in the photo?”
To an outsider, her request might have seemed innocuous, but to me it said Ivy’s stubborn shell was cracking.
Cami tilted her head from side to side, debating. Finally she nodded, though Ivy was already making her way toward me.
“I think we can make it work. Paige, I’ll need you and Peter to shift over to this side to balance theshot. Tyler, let’s have you move up front. And, Ivy—go ahead and tuck your shoulder in just a bit, right next to Jack. Perfect.”
Ivy next to mewasperfect, especially when she grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
I let my thumb brush over hers—just once, enough to make sure shefeltit.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” I whispered.
The way her form-fitted charcoal sweater dress hugged all her curves did me in. How she thought she was just a “regular” girl, I had no idea. She was stunning.
She nudged me with her hip. “Thank you. FYI, I think we need to talk.”
“We will,” I promised.
“Okay. You all look amazing. I’m going to take a few test shots to check the lighting,” Cami called out. “So everyone smile naturally. Just remember: If you blink, you owe me a Diet Coke,” she teased. “That’s the rule.”
Everyone laughed.
I laughed, too, but then it hit me. This was the first family photo I had ever been in. I tightened my grip on Ivy’s hand, hoping she didn’t want to crop me out. Not only did I want to be with her, but I wanted to be part of her family, as crazy as they were. At least they loved each other and showed up.
The whole photo session blurred into a flurry of smiles, reshuffling poses, and Cami’s relentless commands. We were herded into every formation imaginable—group shots, sibling shots, couple shots. Every time Ivy wasn’t needed in a photo, I tried to steal a moment alone with her. She was right; we neededto talk.
But between Ivy’s mom calling her over to fix Paige’s hair, Cami’s booming directions, and the swirling madness that was the Wells family, the moment never came. Then Kaden slapped me on the back while his parents were getting their pictures done.
“Blackjack?” he grinned. “Wanna lose to a couple of middle schoolers?”
Graham chimed in, already shuffling the cards. “We take Venmo.”
