Snowed In For Christmas: A Fun Feel-Good Holiday Romance Novel - Kimberly Krey Page 0,57
through her stomach. Come on, traffic. Move!
It didn’t, but the window separating the back cab from the driver did. One slow glide. “I apologize for the wait, ladies. Seems as if there’s an accident ahead. It’s a few miles up. Once we get past it, we’ll be on our way. We’re not far from our destination.”
“Thank you.” Ivy spotted an oversized flatbed truck in front of them. Odd, seeing that it held no cargo at all.
“I hope we make it there in time,” Joelle said.
“Me too,” Ivy agreed.
“Well, no matter what happens,” Taya said, “this has been one incredible day. Let’s just sit back, have a little bubbly, and enjoy our time in this amazing limo.”
“Good idea,” Jackie agreed. She handed Ivy a champagne flute while Taya gave one to Joelle. Joelle’s glass, of course, held sparkling cider since she was expecting. “Cheers to sisterhood, unexpected adventures, and…and Looking For Love!”
Ivy extended her glass, clinking it gently with each of her sisters, and took a modest sip, recalling the effects of those moonshine peaches. And as she set her gaze out the opposite window, taking in the night skyline of LA with its brilliant city lights, an inquiry came to mind. One she’d been questioning for days. I wonder where Easton is right now.
Easton glanced down at his watch as he waited in the greenroom. 7:35. Marsha was late. And for someone who prided herself on timing—she was the producer of several live TV shows, after all—that seemed uncharacteristic.
It didn’t help that his mind was treading water in a sea of regret. A sea that was growing deeper and higher with each minute that passed by. He should have given Ivy the benefit of the doubt. She had shown him, during their time together, exactly the type of woman she was.
Ivy was faithful and loyal, a woman who wouldn't betray anyone in such a way. Today, amidst the waves of guilt and remorse crashing about, Easton was finally seeing things clearly now.
The terrible tabloid he’d seen would send any woman into turmoil, there was no doubt. But for someone like Ivy…
A vicious ache tore through him as his eyes clenched closed. For Ivy, it had to be so much worse. She had a warped perception of herself as it was. Of her significance, her worth, and her appeal. They’d talked at length about the ways she’d worked to impress and to prove herself to others. About how her fear of being unimportant or even unlovable had carried into her relationships with men as well. So what else could she conclude when he took off rather than seek her out, except that she wasn’t worth the trouble?
He should have been her champion. Instead, he’d been a coward.
That same mean cycle of thoughts fed his desperate urgency to make things right. To tell her—and all of America—that she was worth it. He just hadn’t dared step up. It was his job to help her see that she was something special, and no matter what it took, no matter what this night held in store, that’s what Easton planned to do.
His knee bounced restlessly as he glanced around the room. Empty glasses stood beside a tall pitcher of ice water. He leaned forward and secured a glass. Yet just as he tightened his grip around the icy pitcher, the door burst open.
“You’re on,” a tall, gawky kid hissed from the door.
Easton set the glass back down. “I’m on…what?”
The kid hurried in and hooked a mic up to Easton’s collar. “Say something,” he urged.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Perfect,” the kid said. “Lift the back of your tux so I can place the battery pack. It’s small, see?” He held up a black box with a clip on the back.
Easton spun around and lifted the tail of the tux. He glanced over his shoulder as he clipped it onto his belt.
“Got it. She’s waiting for you out there, so follow me.” He hurried toward the door but Easton reached out to grab his arm.
“Wait. Who is?” Please say Ivy.
“Marsha,” he said over his shoulder. They were moving down a narrow hallway now. One turn left, a quick turn to the right, and suddenly they were at a dead end of sorts. Closed off by a thick, black curtain. The kid spoke something into his mic, eyes set on Easton, then nodded as he gathered whatever response came.
He moved to one side and leaned an ear toward the curtain. “Ten seconds,” he mumbled.