Ivy

C hristmas at the Holloway house is—everything you’ve ever seen on TV and more. From the moment I walked in the door, I felt welcome. Mary told me how wonderful it is that I was able to join them today. Tom nodded his agreement and placed a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder in greeting. Winnie hugged me with more force than I would have expected from such a small person. Colt winked at me, and that made Alder shoot him a dirty look. I liked that a little more than I should. Then, when I was flushed from attention and my heart was filling to the brim, Hazel squealed my name and lifted her tiny arms in the air for me to pick her up, and the organ in my chest burst, unable to contain the affection.

And that was just the first five minutes I was here. Alder carried in the few presents I bought and sat them by the large tree in the living area. I was promptly swept into the kitchen by Florence, or Baby Lo, as far as anyone in their family is concerned. She sat me on a barstool at the island, made two mimosas, and handed me one before joining me. Mr. Holloway walks by on his way to the deck with tongs and a meat thermometer. He clicks the tongs, and I smile when I notice he’s wearing an apron. A very funny but inappropriate apron. I slap a hand over my mouth to try and cover my giggle, but it’s no use. I lose it, and a snort comes out. Oh my god, I just snorted.

“What’s so funny, princess?” Alder asks from the arched entrance to the living room. A few heads whip back and forth between us at the use of the nickname he’s given me. I blush, and if I had to guess, it’s somewhere between tomato and strawberry red. I shake my head, refusing to say anything else.

“Share with the class,” he encourages me, and I roll my eyes.

“That’s a very interesting apron your dad has on.” And the whole kitchen erupts with laughter. I smile, but I’m a bit confused. Mary walks over and leans against the island beside me.

“I’m sorry, dear. I think we forget sometimes that not everyone is in on the joke. One year, I think it may have been Father’s Day, Alder bought Tom an apron, it said ‘It’s All Fun And Games Until Someone Burns Their Wiener,’” she says, and I choke on my laughter. “From then on, Mr. Holloway has received at least one a year, and each year, they get worse and worse, depending on who's giving them to him.” She eyes Alder as she says this. “I hope you don’t find it offensive,” she adds, and I shake my head.

“No, not at all. It’s just…the arrow pointing down…er…really caught…me off guard.” I try to get out through my laughter. She throws her head back, and I can see exactly where Alder gets his laugh from. Mary has a phenomenal laugh. I’m laughing so hard that tears are starting to gather in my eyes. I glance o ver again and meet those familiar ice-blue ones. They’re squinted, sexy crinkles in full effect, smiling back at me. I’m really glad I came. I’m really glad Alder came to get me.

As laughter dies down but doesn’t stop, there’s a flutter of activity in the kitchen. I almost feel bad for not helping, but then Florence nudges me with her elbow.

“I don’t cook,” she whispers conspiratorially.

“I don’t either,” I whisper back, and she laughs lightly.

“Perfect. I have a drinking buddy,” she says, holding up her glass, and I tap mine against it. The sound is just a quiet clink, but I feel it deep down. Like the clink of our glasses slipped through the carefully constructed walls I keep up, hitting me in the chest, and now I don’t know how I’ll ever go back. I smile, hoping it’s not watery, and take a small sip of my drink. Not only do I need to watch my sugar, I also haven’t been drinking since the night I got to town, not wanting to use it as a crutch as I have in the past.

“Can you tell me where the bathroom is?” I ask.

“If you go out the way we came in here and then go to the left, it’s the door at the very end of the hallway,” she tells me, pointing to the entrance we came through.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” I say, slipping off the barstool. I walk out into the living room and see all the guys, with the exception of Knox who’s making something in the kitchen. They’re talking about Rhett’s hockey season and playing with Hazel, who keeps holding up a play phone to each of their ears. The sight makes me chuckle, but it’s a sound tinged with sadness. A little bit of grief creeps through. I make it to the third door down the hall, spotting a snowboarding poster out of the corner of my eye, and I stop in the doorway. This must have been Alder’s room.

I smile and turn back to the living room. Laughter floats down the hallway as I step into the bedroom. Light filters in from the window, and I can see the outline of the mountains in the distance. I walk to the end of the bed. The thick wool blankets all look warm and inviting. The nightstand has a leather-bound book on it. A journal, perhaps? I pick it up and flip through the pages once before placing it back on the small table. I would love to snoop through it, but I can’t be in here forever. I’m sure he hasn’t lived here in years, but somehow, it still smells of him in here. There are so many personal touches. I think back to my bedroom in my father’s house and can’t think of one thing that reflected me in that room.

I walk over to a tall dresser and look at the framed photos sitting on top. There are a few of him and his brothers. I see Winnie and Colt mixed in as well. There’s one of him and who I’m assuming is Florence, when she was a toddler brushing his hair. Then there’s one I see pinned on a corkboard above a desk. It’s of him with a guy I haven’t met yet. Alder has his arm wrapped around the man’s shoulders. Both their smiles so bright that I can feel mine widen in response.

“That’s Ray,” a voice from the doorway startles me. I spin and stifle a scream.

“God, Alder. If you keep doing that, I’m going to make you wear a bell,” I tell him while covering my throat with my hands. He smiles at me, his hip propped against the door jamb.

“Kinky,” he says with a raised brow then his face turns thoughtful. “I’m not opposed,” he tells me. I scoff and lean back onto the desk, checking to make sure it will support me before giving it my full weight .

“No? Tell me more. What else are you not opposed to?” I question.

“If it has to do with you, I’m not ashamed to say it’s a very short list,” he quips, and I fight a blush. More lists.

“So, the guy in the picture. Ray.” I gesture behind me. “I haven’t seen him around. Does he live around here?” I ask, trying to change the subject. Alder’s blue eyes twinkle, and he pushes off the wall to come stand beside me.

“He would love that you’re asking about him,” he tells me with a small chuckle. He pulls open the drawer at my thigh and pulls out a hardcover book. Oh, it’s a photo album, I see when he flips it open. He leans against the desk beside me, our shoulders touching.

“This is Ray,” he says. He points to a photo of two small boys. Maybe eight years old. “We were friends from the first day of kindergarten through age twenty-four. I’ve never had a better friend.”

“Did you two lose touch or…?” I ask, hopeful.

“Unfortunately, no. He died twelve years ago this month.” This is a much deeper conversation than I had anticipated.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him honestly, placing my hand over his.

“Yeah, I had a pretty rough go of it for a while after,” he shares with me and flips his hand over to twine our fingers together. “He’s a big reason I do what I do,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” I murmur. I know how loss can affect you. My loss changed me completely. I wonder if Alder was altered like I was and if having the support of his family kept him from going dark like I had. The months I spent at the spa retreat still haunt me. I shudder.

“I am too. He was a great person and would have been a great man. I miss him every day. I’ve been fortunate to have found ways to cope with his loss and honor his memory. Those are the only reasons I’m able to keep going. Well, that and I have my family. They don’t give up on the people they love. I am lucky enough to be one of those people,” he says with a wink.

“I doubt it’s all that hard to love you, Alder,” I whisper. We’re close. Too close to one another now. With his hand in mine, I hadn’t realized how close his handsome face had gotten to mine.

“, I should tell you…” I can feel his breath on my mouth, and if I lean into him just a few more inches, I could feel his lips…but I don’t. I might’ve, but I don’t get the chance. A knock on the wall has me flinching away from him so hard that I ram into the dresser and knock a trophy and some books off it.

“Shit!” I yell, rubbing my upper arm as I bend to pick up the items now on the ground.

“I just wanted to let you guys know that Mare is here, and dinner is about ready.” Rhett smirks from outside the room. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” His tone is teasing, and even though all the Holloway men are grown, it’s giving little brother.

“Not at all. I’m just going to go to the bathroom and then I’ll be right there,” I say and walk past him and down the long hall. I don’t take another breath until I’m locked inside. What the hell am I thinking? I shouldn’t have let myself get into this position. It’s really easy to get swept up in Alder. I think it’s been happening little by little since my first night here. I also know it would be much smarter, for both of us, if we remember that this isn’t real; it’s an agreement, that’s it. The hand-holding and the near touches should probably be reserved for when we’re in front of Noah or Margot.

I wash my hands and splash a little water on my face. In the mirror, I can see my face is flushed, and it has nothing to do with the sweater I have on. I’m playing with fire now, but it feels really good to be here with him today, and it feels really good to have him looking at me like he does. Like maybe he cares about me, what happens to me. That’s new, and I don’t think I want to give it up. Not yet, at least.

I make it back to the kitchen and am promptly ushered to the dining room, where the table is set beautifully with a view of the Christmas tree that stands across the room in front of the window that seems to tower over us. Everything on the table is in just the right place. The red napkins and the gold candle sticks. It’s stunning, truly. When I get a better look at the tree, I notice it has small frames hanging off the branches. Little wallet-size photos adorn the huge tree from top to bottom.

Memories of all their family holidays, milestones, and achievements hang from small green and red bows. It’s perfect. I’ve been to plenty of pretty homes that are lavishly decorated, but it’s these personal touches, the ways this family is embedded into every inch of this home, which stand out the most. They make this the most beautiful Christmas I’ve ever been to. Being with this family makes me nostalgic for something I’ve never had. I’m sure there’s a word for that, but I can’t think of it right now.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Holloway calls over all the side conversations. “I would like to start by saying that I’m so grateful to have my whole family here for Christmas.” He takes an extra moment to look at Rhett, and his son nods in agreement before looking at Winnie, who blushes adorably. “ Christmas is a time to reflect on the past year. All the good things that it’s brought us and all the hard things we have overcome. My wish for everyone here is that you continue to overcome the challenges life sets before you, but you feel joy in the wonderful opportunities you’ve been given.” He raises his wine glass, and we all reach for our own, lifting them. “To the bright futures of everyone in this room and the years that have come before that made us capable of them.”

There’s clinking around the table as we all tap our glasses to one another’s. I’m trying not to tear up. What a beautiful sentiment. To honor our pasts and old wounds by rising to all that life brings. I look around the table at all the seemingly well-adjusted adults. I look at Hazel. She’s going to be such a lovely person. She has too many people who love her for her not to be. I feel my chest warm thinking about that. Grateful she won’t be resigned to a life as empty as mine was. After spending the day here and hearing Tom’s speech, though, I think I still have time to change that and make the most of mine. I smile and look at Alder, who’s sitting right beside me.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, so only he can hear. He turns to me and smiles. Hi, dimples.

“For what?” he asks me.

“Coming after me this morning.”