“Well, to be fair, the guests were getting a little stir crazy. We just let them go through the stuff we have for on-site events. They helped pull this off.”
The room is simple but beautiful. Some guests are dressed up and some are in leggings and shirts—not sure anyone expected being snowed in or invited to something like this. For some reason, this makes me even more emotional.
I turn my crying face into Holland’s shirt. My heartbeat feels like it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Hey, careful. This isBurberry,” he says in a way that’s sarcastic but also serious. He made fun of me when I told him the brand. I think it reminds him of the past version of Holland: the finance guy in New York.
I look up and smile before meeting him for a kiss. This man. I’m a puddle.
“Time check. Holland, get Ivy a drink and grab a seat. It’s almost go time!” Vivian says into the camera, I laugh at her bossing him around, even thousands of miles away.
I can’t believe this. Any of it. The range of emotions from the last few days play in my head. To end up here, and not be totally missing out on the gala tonight, my heart is full.
People squeal about Slate the entire way as Holland leads me to a table and shows me to my seat. I’ll have the best view in the house.
“I’m going to get you a drink and some appetizers.” Holland kisses the top of my head.
Before I have a few seconds to take in the evening, Bea sits in the chair next to me.
“Tell me those are happy tears!” She hugs me and rubs my back.
“Obviously! This is amazing.” I pull back, wiping tears, careful not to ruin my makeup.
She pats my hand in my lap. “You deserve it. I hope there’s some hotties on the red carpet.” She shimmies her shoulders before getting up.
I watch the screen and can feel the anticipation starting to build. I can hear more people, car doors shutting, and what I’m guessing are people arriving. The one thing that was meant to be a surprise was the A-list guest list for the red carpet. Stella insisted that was one thing I wasn’t in charge of. She was right; even from here, I’m excited to see who will be there to support the charities and two great causes.
Holland sits down in the chair next to me, an old fashioned for him and a French 75 for me. I’m a sucker for anything with bubbly wine. I hear Slate bark and find him sitting with Bea while people are fawning over him. I totally get it.
I lean my head on Holland’s shoulder and the lights dim.
“Want to make sure we can see who’s on the carpet,” he says quietly, his mouth near my ear.
First, some of the Sparks Wellness walks the carpet—Stella is wearing a black Chanel dress that is gorgeous. She waves at the camera and I wave back, even though she can’t see me. It’s a little embarrassing but I don’t care. Next, the founders and boards of the charities being represented make an appearance, hitting all the right poses to get those good PR shots.
The crowd starts to scream when Theo Walker, an up-and-coming Aussie F1 driver for McAllister, stands in front of the camera. Based on the gasps heard around the room, I’m not the only one who knows who he is. The room quickly jolts to life—I join them in standing and clapping.
Is he kidding?He’s wearing a navy-blue Tom Ford suit, his bare chest on display as the jacket dips down into a solid V. On anyone else, I think I’d make fun of them, but Theo is owning it.
“No man should look that good without a shirt on underneath a suit jacket,” Holland says, taking in all of Theo.
Before Theo makes his way inside, he moves closer to the camera lens, “Wish you were here, Ivy,” he says, with a wink, and I feel my cheeks get hot.
Guests clap and holler; they’re loving this.
Before I can even register what’s happening, Locke Hughes comes into the frame, and the room continues to buzz.
“Holy shit! That guy won a Masters. He has a green jacket,” Holland says, eyes wide and drool almost falling out of his mouth. I can hear the same thing from the guests around us.
Locke stuns in a dark charcoal gray suit. He must be over six foot tall and it’s like I can hear the panties dropping from here. He’s a showstopper and knows it. There’s something hot about a man who knows how to move on a red carpet.
“I did not expect that.” Holland is still in awe at the professional golfer on the screen. “Do you know him?” he asks.
“We’ve not met and it’s a shame." I jokingly squeeze Holland’s knee, his eyes still glued to the screen.
Like Theo, Locke moves closer with a message. “Hey, Ivy,” he waves. “Tell Holland there’s a signed golf ball for him at your Sparks office. Someone said he was a fan.”
I look over at Holland and it’s like he’s a statue. Frozen. Unmovable. I shake his shoulders and the entire room claps when they realize that Holland is sitting with me. I’m sure many of the guests didn’t know who he was.
