Page 82 of The Christmas Arrangement

He gives me a long look. “Would you mind if?—?”

“Listen, I think we’ve all learned not to ask other people’s permission to be in love. That’s between you and Mom,” I say, and I mean it.

He grins. “Fair enough.”

Mom finds me later, in the kitchen where I’m helping Ivy wrap up leftovers.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she says quietly.

“You start by letting me make my own choices,” I say.

“Even if I think they’re wrong?”

“Especially then.”

She nods slowly. “I’ll try. I can’t promise I’ll be good at it.”

“Just try,” I say. Then, because she’s still my mother, I pull her into a hug. “That’s all I ask.”

She holds on tight, and I let her.

It’s past eleven when Ivy and I finish saying our goodbyes and finally leave the inn. We’re both quiet during the short walk to the cottage as we process everything that happened.

Inside, I collapse on the couch. Ivy curls up next to me, and I wrap an arm around her. The closeness feels right after so much distance.

“That was—” I start.

“A lot,” she finishes.

“Yeah.”

We sit in silence for a moment. Then my phone rings.

Brody.

“His timing always did suck,” I mutter, but I answer it. “Hey.”

“I heard about dinner,” Brody says without preamble. “Your mom called me.”

“Of course she did.”

“She said she was wrong. That I should listen to you. So I’m listening. What do you want?”

I look at Ivy, snuggled into my side, her head on my shoulder.

“I want to take the meetings,” I say. “But I’m not going to LA. I’m willing to go to New York to audition for the musical, but anyone else who wants to meet me can come here.”

“To Vermont?”

“Yes.”

He’s silent for a long time. “Aren’t you leaving the day after tomorrow?”

I glance at Ivy while I say, “I hope not.”

She turns her face up to me and smiles. My heart feels like it might explode. I smooth my hand over her hair and try to concentrate. “Planes fly in both directions, Brody. So set up the meetings but set them up here.”

“You’re serious.”