Page 49 of Beautifully Messy
Her eyes meet mine, meaning unmistakable. She’s not only talking to Ivy.
The door swings open again. Leo and Beck spill onto the deck, followed by a silent Tom and James. The three of us women exchange glances, still reeling from the confessions shared.
“Mom, we’re going sledding. You want to come?” The twins jump on Jules. “What about you, Aunt Syd? Aunt Ivy?”
“I don’t know if you can handle me on the hills.” I laugh, grateful for the distraction.
Ivy breaks out of her reverie, the confusion on her face replaced with a soft smile. “Thanks for the invite, guys. But I’m going to stay behind. James, maybe we could spend some time together?”
“Sorry. I promised the boys I’d go.”
His eyes find mine as he takes a seat across the fire pit. It lasts only a second, but the look is unmistakable. I might be sitting here in leggings and a Christmas sweater, but I’ve never felt more seen. More wanted.
When he said my name last night under the moonlight and touched my elbow, I knew what he wanted to ask. And there’s no denying it. I feel it, every goddamn beat of it. And maybe that’s the scariest part.
“Can we talk later?” Ivy curls a hand around his jaw, pulling his mouth to meet hers.
The breath leaves my lungs in one sharp exhale. I stand quickly, my chair skittering backward, and cross the deck with shaking legs, unable to watch his lips touch hers and still pretend none of this matters.
Fifteen
Anhourlater,I’mtrudging up a snow-covered hill, dragging a blue plastic sled behind me.
Tom stops halfway up, packing snow, building a ramp, taking directions from the twins on width and height. Jules hauls a basket filled with blankets, hot chocolate, and marshmallows. James walks beside me, pulling more sleds. Anna is with her grandparents. Margaret practically pushed me out the door, pressing my jacket into my hands and assuring me Anna would be fine. Mason and Ivy stayed behind, catching up on work.
The sky is that impossibly crisp blue you get after a fresh snowfall, the sun so bright it bounces off the hill in glittering sheets. The elementary school below sits quietly, its silence a reminder that the world is paused for the holiday. Families dot the slope at careful distances, waving across the white expanse while navigating both COVID precautions and the chaotic trajectories of flying children.
“When was the last time you went sledding?” James asks.
“The boys try to get us out every year. I think we missed it last year… with everything.” I stop. It’s the first time either of us has acknowledged how last year ended. I take a slow, centering breath before teasing, “I hope your sledding skills are better than your skating.”
James tugs my hat down over my eyes before he says, “We had this perfect hill behind our house growing up. My mom would wrap me in so many layers I could barely bend, then send me flying down it for hours.”
“Your mom sounds lovely.”
“She is. But she swore I shaved years off her life.”
“Leo and Beck are fearless. Wait until you see them hit that jump Tom is building.”
We reach the top of the hill, where Jules is already setting up with military precision, laying out a waterproof blanket and unpacking supplies, pretending not to watch our approach.
“Aunt Syd! Watch this!” Leo calls, positioning his sled at the crest.
With a triumphant cry, he launches himself over the jump Tom built. Beck follows seconds later, veering off course and wiping out in a glorious explosion of snow.
He pops up immediately, shouting, “Awesome! Did you see that?”
“Boys,” Jules mutters fondly. “Only creatures who celebrate pain.”
“I don’t know,” James says, eyes glinting with mischief. “That looked pretty fun to me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those adults who reverts to a nine-year-old the second it snows.”
“Guilty as charged.” He positions his sled at the edge. “Race you down?”
“You’re on.”
Jules catches my eye with a look I pointedly ignore.
