20. CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ivy

DAY OF THE RED CARPET EVENT

We walk, hand in hand, through the mostly empty lobby—even the front desk is abandoned. Anyone who is out and about, offers me a smile and Holland a nod. It's like they're all in on some inside joke. When my heels click-clack through the empty hallway, I'm bummed Bea isn't around to hear and make fun of me for it, just like she did during my first visit. Even now she'll sometime call me the click-clack queen.

Holland stops me at a set of closed doors, outside the main ballroom.

"Are you ready?" he asks, smiling at me, looking from my eyes to the doors and back again.

"For what?" I still have no idea what I'm about to walk into.

He clicks his tongue before saying, "You'll see."

Holland opens the door and the ballroom glows. Twinkly lights hang from the ceiling and around the room. Tables set up throughout the space have candles lit in different sized vases—many of the candles float in the water. The ballroom is full of what I'm guessing are guests and staff members, for whatever is planned.

"What is all this?" I ask, walking in.

Holland points across the room, "Look. "

Something is playing, on a screen, from a projector. I move a few steps closer and realize it's a red carpet. A red carpet. Just as I'm about to turn away, I see someone who looks like Vivian walk across the carpet.

"That looked like Viv," I say, squinting my eyes.

Holland smiles, looking at me to the screen and back to me again. "It is Viv. It's a live feed from the red carpet and once everyone's done walking it, we'll stream the event."

My mouth hangs open and tears flood my eyes. My best friend comes back on the screen and waves, knowing I'm on the other end.

"How did you do this?" My voice is small and there's no way to hide the crack at the end.

Holland wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. "Bea and Viv really were the ones to make it happen, I just had the idea."

Bea sees me from across the room. She waves at me, and I feel a tear fall down my cheek. Her hair is pulled back in glittery clips—a perfect Bea accessory.

"I can't believe you did this." I turn to look at him and his caramel eyes make the lump in my throat impossible to swallow.

"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 is Burberry, " 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.

"I feel like I could pass out." He takes a long drink of his old fashioned.

My cheeks pinch from smiling. I know everyone walking the carpet gave a sizable donation to the charities and I can't wait to see what the totals are at the end of the night. The amount of good we'll be able to do is overwhelming in the best way.

Holland pulls me in for a kiss and then the room goes feral. People may have known who Theo and Locke were, but whoever on the screen has people jumping up and down, getting their phones out to take photos.

Tripp Owens and Willow .

"No way! There is no way!" I stand and scream, joining in the awe. Everyone claps and cheers.

Tripp, Super Bowl champion and MVP, stands in a timeless black suit with a blue pocket square—matching the blue of his team, the Upstate Cosmos. Willow, global-pop-superstar and my absolute favorite musician, wears a gold sequin dress which hugs her silhouette perfectly.

How in the world did Sparks pull this off?

I cover my mouth and watch as Tripp and Willow make me lightheaded with how sweet they are together. Tripp says something to Willow that makes her laugh, and even from here, you can tell she means it. They've been all over the media ever since they started dating, but I love how Tripp is a fan. There's the cutest video of him dancing, doing the actual tour choreography, while Willow performed the halftime show, and Tripp was supposed to be warming up. Swoon.

When the two of them walk forward, I reach for Holland's hand, and put the other on my chest. The entire room goes quiet, knowing what's coming next.

"Sorry to hear you're stuck out west. We were looking forward to meeting you," Tripp says as Willow gives a little wave. "I put you on the suite list for the next season. Anytime you want to see an Upstate Cosmos game, tickets are yours."

"Shut the fuck up," Holland shouts while looking at me. "Maybe we should move to New York," he jokes and I bump into his shoulder and "shhh" him.

"Ivy, I'm sure we'll cross paths when you make it to a game, but I left some merch and a couple signed vinyl records for you. Stella didn't know which albums were your favorites, so she checked with Vivian. If we didn't get it right, let me know. Hope to see you soon," Willow blows a kiss as she walks out of the frame.

I can't breathe. There is no air in this room. How do I continue after this?

Willow comes back, "Oh yeah, there's concert tickets in there, too."

The room erupts and I don't think my legs will hold me up much longer.

Holland stands and turns me to him, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I think I died dead just now." He laughs, hugs me, and I still can't compute what just happened.

"Looks like we'll have to make some trips to New York for those home games," Holland says while holding me.

"I guess so." I wonder if this is what shock feels like. I know every word to every song by Willow. I've been trying to get tickets to her new tour and haven't been successful. There are no words.

Not just for the thing with Willow and Tripp, but everything. Holland putting this together, Bea jumping in, Viv standing in for me in New York. It feels like I have all these people in my corner and that's not something I take lightly.

I sit down and take a drink of my French 75. Holland watches me, a smile on his face that could light this room.

"Thank you," I murmur. Tears are in my eyes, but no one is surprised.

"This was nothing. Just a good idea," Holland says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I shake my head, "Not just this, for everything. You make my life so much better."

Holland tips my chin with his fingers, and catches my eyes with his. His caramel eyes on me, flip my stomach, and slow down time. It's like he's taking in all of me—every piece and flaw. Before Holland, this type of look would have me running for the hills, trying to hide parts of myself I didn't think were for show. With Holland, nothing is off limits. He doesn't judge and he loves me through it all.

He leans his forehead to mine, and says, "But then there's you. You, just, make my life."

And he kisses me.