Page 94 of When Ivy Met Mr. Holiday
Emma wrapped a tiny arm around my leg, clutching the music box I’d given her to her chest with the other. She hadn’t let go of it since yesterday morning after unwrapping it. She’d even slept with it.
Watching Christmas morning unfold through her eyes—and through the eyes of all of Ivy’s family—Ifinally understood what it all meant. It wasn’t about gifts or matching sweaters.
It was about love.
I’d never truly been anyone’s uncle, or son, or brother before, but yesterday, I’d become all those things among the pile of wrapping paper, bright smiles, hugs, kisses, and thousands of thank yous. And somewhere in all the chaos and laughter, it all clicked why people love this time of year. And even why Jaquelyn went a little (or a lot) Christmas crazy. Her traditions were just her way of keeping her family together and showing them how much they meant to her.
I kneeled down and wrapped my arms around Emma.
“I love you, Emma.” The words came more naturally than I’d thought they would.
I caught Ivy’s eye as she stood near the stairs among our luggage, beaming at me. It was weird to see her sans matching Christmas sweater. But she looked like a goddess in her joggers and hoodie, her hair twisted into that impossibly perfect knot on top of her head.
I couldn’t wait to wreck her hairdo.
Jaquelyn threw her arms wide open. “I’m next.”
I quickly shifted my thoughts to more innocent ones. I kissed Emma’s cheek before standing and accepting a bear hug from Jaquelyn.
“I’m so glad you came, Jack,” she said, squeezing me like I’d been hers all along.
Thankfully, she was over the fake-relationship debacle . . . which I still wasn’t sorry for. It had all worked out just how I had hoped. Okay, so maybe I’d never intended forIvy’s family to find out or to be put on mock trial with my fate in the hands of middle schoolers, but other than that, it had been great.
I got the girl.
“Thank you so much for having me. Sorry again for all the trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all. I’m just happy it worked out.” She glanced between Ivy and me, her voice flooding with emotion. “Take care of my girl, and yourself.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And don’t be a stranger. You’re family now.” She gave me one more good squeeze.
The wordfamilyhad the lump in my throat threatening to form again. “Thank you, Jaquelyn, for everything.”
“I hope someday,” she whispered just between us, “you’ll call meMom.”
She turned on her heel, practically prancing over to Ivy, leaving me standing there with that single staggering sentence.
Mom.
I hadn’t called anyone that in years.
Before I could get visibly emotional about it, Bradford held out his hand to me, a soft expression on his stately face. The kind of look that said he wasn’t angry at me for whisking his daughter away a week early. Honestly, I think he was relieved that the media circus would be over and that he was one step closer to getting his quiet house back.
I took his hand. “Sir.” He deserved the respect. I would be forever grateful to him for talking me into staying. Forteaching me that good families fight and are worth fighting for.
“Son.” He grinned.
Damn lump in my throat was growing.
“Give us a call when you land.”
“Will do.”
“We better get going,” Ivy called, saving me from shedding tears.
I rushed to grab our luggage, but her brothers and dad beat me to it.
