Page 83 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
“I’m serious.”
Dead serious. It would be the ultimate Christmas present.
“I believe you, but I think we should try dating for a while.”
“How long?” I begged to know, like a lovesick puppy.
Honestly, I wasn’t ashamed. Ivy had rendered me spellbound. It had been seven years, and I was way past any pretenses.
She laughed and turned up the radio, blasting Christmas music.
I grinned, eyes on the snowy road, elated that she hadn’t outright said no. “Dating it is. For now.”
She glanced my way, offering me a mischievous expression. “For now.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”
Winnie-the-Pooh
Ivy
IkeptgrinningatJack as we perused the boutique toy store downtown, like we’d just met and were drunk on new infatuation. I stayed close, brushing against him every few steps. If anyone still thought this was fake, they could ask the plethora of butterflies pirouetting in my stomach,fluttering every time Jack’s hand grazed mine or he leaned in to whisper something that definitely didn’t belong on Santa’s nice list.
It was very real.
I’d never felt like this before.
Jack was different. I had just refused to see it for so long.
No man had ever given me a handmade history book. No man had ever loved me the way Jack did. Loved me enough to wait seven years.
Just the thought made me smile as I breathed in a piece of my childhood. The store smelled like old cedar and peppermint, sweet and warm. Every shelf twinkled with hand-painted ornaments, plush animals, and delicate toys that clicked, spun, or chimed softly when touched.
As a little girl, I’d sworn this place was Santa’s real workshop. And now, here with Jack, it felt even more magical—even if the faint clatter of photographers outside threatened to remind me otherwise.
I still felt shaky taking them on. But the sooner the world believed us—and caught Sienna in her lie—the sooner we could date in some semi privacy. I understood what dating Jack meant. It meant Mr. Holiday was part of the package and that my life, from here on out, was fair game for public consumption.
It didn’t seem fair.
But he was worth it.
He was safe.
. . . Mostly.
He was ready to tie the knot.
Whoa.
Like,whoa, whoa. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Jack had asked me to marry him. Not that I hadn’t known that was where his heart was headed, but still—he’d said it. Out loud.
I figured we should probably get through the scandal and the holidays first before tossing around theMword.
Jack picked up a wooden music box like it was some ancient artifact and turned the crank. The soft chiming notes of “Carol of the Bells” trickled into the air, warm and oddly cinematic. I guess it made sense, since he was a movie star.
“When I was a kid,” he said, tone casual but a touch wistful, “I thought stores like this only existed in the movies.”
