It’s not just attraction or me wanting companionship. It’s more than the fact that he’s hot and his touch sends my thoughts skittering. It’s how considerate he is. How he doesn’t shy away from hard conversation, especially because I know that’s something he’s had to learn how to do. It’s how the ten years between us doesn’t matter when we both want the same things from a relationship—someone who cares about us and is willing to make the sacrifices. Family. Love. Commitment.
He breaks the moment first, moving to get up with the girls and go into the living room. I reach for my crutches. I’m willing to admit that I’m falling for Chad, for better or worse.
The problem is, while I think I’m reading things right in believing that Chad is as attracted to me as I am to him, I have no idea what he’s ready for. I can get past my reservations over Chad’s age and becoming an insta-mom. The girls are important considerations in any relationship we might want, but I’m not afraid of having them in my life. I’m already feeling pangs about how I’ll miss them when I go back to Nashville.
But that other red flag I mentioned? His complicated ex? That’s not something dismissed easily. It’s been less than a year since Shelby left. They’ve only been divorced for six months. The things Shelby did are traumatic enough that Chad will be healing from it for years to come. The girls too. I might be able to recognize that I’m more ready for a relationship than I thought I was, but I have no idea where Chad is.
If Law or Carlie was admitting to being confused about the other’s mental readiness for something, the first thing I would encourage them to do would be to communicate right away. I’d remind them that silencing their fears only adds to the weight and assumptions, because not asking can damage their relationship. I’d tell them the answer might be hard to hear, but it’s better than living with the tension that comes from not knowing.
I know the cost of not talking to Chad about his feelings, of trying to navigate this by myself without all the information I need.
But this is the first time I’ve ever been genuinely afraid of knowing the answer.
I settle in a chair without even knowing how I got from the kitchenette to the living room. I pull myself out of the reverie so I can live in this moment and enjoy how delighted Scarlett and Zoey are with this simple holiday celebration. Warmth fills me as Scarlett carefully carries my stocking, made from a hand towel, toward me. I hold it in my lap, watching as the girls pull things from their stockings, showing each other and exclaiming over all of it.
I got pieces of these family moments when I did Christmases with Law’s family, but this feels like all my dreams and more. I twist my lips to the side, embarrassed at how emotional I am at revisiting some of the best memories I have as a child, before Mom passed away.
“Ivy, what’s this?” Chad asks, making me whirl toward him. He holds up the package of the M&Ms I ordered for him last night so he could have a little surprise in his stocking. There’s a boyish giddiness on his face that makes my heart thump.
“Looks like Santa brought you some M&Ms.” Why am I blushing? Buying him the treat isn’t a big deal. He’s done so much to make this morning special for Scarlett and Zoey that I wanted him to have that too. But his reaction makes me wish he could show his thanks with a sweet kiss. I can picture himhopping up and coming over to brush a light kiss across my lips like we do things like this every day.
The heat in my cheeks intensifies.
He stares at me, eyes glowing with gratitude, merging with the childlike happiness at the gift. It hits me harder what he told me last night—that Shelby never did this stuff. She didn’t buy him dark chocolate mint M&Ms just because. “How did you know that these were my favorite?”
Maybe that’s why I’m embarrassed. Because it was simple to figure out, and because I notice too much about him. “When we decorated cookies with the girls last spring, you kept sneaking them while we were decorating. And they have some in a bowl downstairs. You grabbed a package the other day.” I look away, self-conscious. I’ve always filed away little things in my brain about the people I know for stuff like this. It’s probably weird that I remember this about Chad. “I didn’t know they were your favorite.” I force a nervous laugh. “I just thought you liked them.”
“This is awesome, Ivy.” The genuine appreciation in his voice makes me meet his eyes again. “You’re amazing.”
“They’re just M&Ms.” I can’t help making light of it. I want his opinion of me to be about more than friendship.
“They’re not just M&Ms.” He stares at me meaningfully and then grins, shaking his head as he rips the package open and shakes some into his hand.
I do not want to give any of this up. Not when I go home, not ever.
We definitely need to talk.
CHAPTER 12
CHAD
Ivy Hart doesn’t want a relationship. She’s not dating. I’ve heard the words from her mouth, and I’ve been there, done that when it comes to begging someone to love me. I’ve been reminding myself of that all day.
I don’t think I’m misreading the vibes between us. There’s chemistry.
But Shelby and I had that in spades too. It didn’t change her mind about being tied down.
Ivy’s not Shelby. I know this. She remembered the M&Ms—from months ago. She noticed when I grabbed them downstairs. And despite a broken ankle, she figured out a way to get some for me to make my Christmas a little more special. A couple months ago when she found out that Carlie had a rough few days, she sent a sunshine care package that Carlie gushed about to me and Law. Shelby only bought presents for me or the girls if I made a wish list for her to shop from. Life with Ivy could be amazing.
She doesn’t want that life, and I can’t blame her. I come with a lot of baggage. And she might have unselfish reasons for shying away from relationships. Her relationship with Carlie’s brother burned hot and fast and then out within a matter ofweeks. I don’t know enough about her past to evaluate her choice not to date seriously. It’s not fair of me to ask her to change for me. That’s a lesson I’ve already learned the hard way.
I haven’t seen Ivy for a couple hours, but my mind has been on her anyway. After opening presents with us, she went to her hotel room so Carlie could help her get ready for the game. I wanted to ask her to ride with me to the stadium—so I could help. But Carlie’s driving her over, and I’ll have to settle for meeting them both in the parking lot.
As I drive to the stadium with my girls, I glance at them in the rearview mirror a few times. I love being the one to drive them somewhere, as silly as that sounds. Carlie is the one who takes them everywhere at home. It’s mundane, and yet … I want it. I want to listen to them sing along to Ms Rachel or tell each other silly stories more than once in a while. It turns my mind to the round-the-clock callouts that wait for me back in Houston.
Honestly, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to make this decision. I want to do whatever it takes to spend more time with my daughters. I’m going to talk to Angie, my supervisor, as soon as I get home.
I pull into the VIP parking lot that’s closer to the stadium—Law arranged for us to be able to use it—grinning over thoughts of spending more time with Scarlett and Zoey. I promise myself I’m not going to obsess over an impossible future with Ivy. It’s pointless, and I want to just enjoy the friendship and fun we’ve had the last couple days.
