Page 67 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“Forget the hat. He deserves a Christmas sweater with a big fat scarletAstitched on it,” Paigesnarled.
“That’s an excellent idea, Paige,” Mom agreed. “Someone fire up my embroidery machine.”
Oh, jeez. This was getting ridiculous. If I could speak, I’d have tried to put a stop to the madness. We didn’t need any adultery sweaters for Christmas. I just needed to kick Jack out and go hibernate in a hole full of fleece blankets, snacks, and Netflix.
After this, I wasn’t going to be able to show my face in public ever again. All the regular girls who had cheered us on were going to be so disappointed. And I was going to go down in tabloid history as a naive loser.
Why had I agreed to be his stupid fake girlfriend?
Jack had promised he would keep us safe.
He’d lied.
And worse . . . I had too.
To my family.
To the world.
To myself.
And just when I thought I might dissolve into tears, or scream, or both, Dad kneeled in front of me. The one man I’d always been able to count on. His strong, steady hand landed on my cheek. I leaned into it, wishing he could make it all better.
Dad didn’t get a chance to say anything. Everyone in the kitchen went silent when Jack walked in, save Cami, who said, “Let me know if I should crop this one out.”
She pointed at Jack as she walked out of the room, muttering to herself, “It never fails. Put a boyfriend in a family picture and nine times out of ten, people regret it.”
Cami’s last words hit hard. I so regretted ever bringing Jack home. ThisMr. Holiday Showwas getting two thumbs down. Zero stars. Would not recommend. Actually, I was ready to cancel the entire season while we were at it. Jack and Mr. Holiday were dead to me.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Can I please speak to Ivy?”
“Please. We would all love to hear what you have to say for yourself,” Paige dared as the room fell into a collective stare.
Even little Emma, who probably had no idea what was going on, gave him the stink eye like he’d just told her Santa wasn’t real.
“I was hoping to speak to her alone,” Jack had the audacity to say.
Dad stood quietly, but lethally, never raising his voice. “You owe us all an explanation.”
Jack caught my eye, silently asking me to jump in. Not happening. Whatever he had to say, he could say it in front of my family. Then I was kicking him out.
Never one to back down, Jack steeled himself, strode farther into the kitchen, and took up the spot my dad had just vacated, kneeling in front of me, tenderly taking my hands, which I immediately yanked away.
I didn’t want his touch. I especially didn’t want the way it made me feel. Hot shame consumed me for crossing lines I never should have.
Unfortunately, I got caught in the trap of his gaze, and it only made me cry harder. How could he so carelesslynot only use our friendship, but then just throw it away? For Sienna, of all people.
Seven beautiful years down the drain.
“I guess I really was just a publicity stunt to you,” I wailed.
Jack’s eyes widened. “Ivy, you know that’s not the truth. How could you ever think that? I would never do anything to hurt you. Just let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain? I saw the picture. You’re a best friend/fake girlfriend cheater.” Crap, had I just said that out loud? In hindsight, maybe I should have just let Jack have a moment alone with me.
“Oh, hell,” Jack murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Fake girlfriend?” several members of my family echoed in unison.
