Chapter 5 #2
I’ve swapped my travel clothes for a blue sweater that brings out the green in my hazel eyes and dark jeans that cling to my thighs. “Thanks.” I grab my red winter coat from the hook by the door. “Mom’s already left for the shop. We should head out, too, if we want to pick up Sophie in an hour.”
Alexander nods, shrugging into a beige long coat that fits him perfectly. Underneath, he’s wearing a forest green sweater that makes his gray eyes look almost silver. It’s unfair how good he looks in casual clothes.
I open the front door. The cold air hits me immediately—not the bitter, biting cold of Manhattan, but the crisp mountain chill that smells like pine.
There’s no snow falling now, but a light dusting covers the ground, and the sky is that perfect winter blue that only happens on the clearest December days.
“Here,” Alexander says, unwinding a dark blue scarf from around his neck. Before I can protest, he’s draping it around mine, his fingers brushing against my skin as he arranges it carefully. “Your coat doesn’t look warm enough.”
My heart does a little stutter at his nearness. “This is fine, I—”
“You were born here. You should know better than to go out with an exposed neck in December.” His tone is reproachful, but his eyes are warm with amusement.
I take a deep breath. This is the new normal, I remind myself. Casual touches. Thoughtful gestures. It’s just for show. Just pretend.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile.
He laughs quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. “Relax, Olivia. Your smile looks like it’s being held at gunpoint.”
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder.” He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Now, which way to town?”
I shoot him an annoyed look. How am I supposed to act normal when every time he touches me, my pulse goes haywire?
I point down the street toward Main. “About six blocks that way.”
We fall into step together, and I’m hyperaware of his gloved hand around mine. The neighborhood is quiet with only the occasional car passing by. A few of my parents’ neighbors are outside, hanging wreaths or stringing up lights.
“Olivia Hartley! Is that you?” Mrs. Hughes calls from her front yard, abandoning her half-decorated bush to hurry toward us. Her silver hair is tucked under a red knit hat, and her cheeks are flushed from the cold.
“Hi, Mrs. Hughes,” I smile, automatically slowing down.
“When did you get back to town, dear?” she asks, her eyes already darting curiously to Alexander.
“Just this morning,” I say.
Before I can say anything else, Mrs. Sullivan from across the street spots us and jogs over, her face lighting up with delight.
“Olivia!” she exclaims, pulling me into a hug that smells like hairspray. “When did you get back?”
“Just this morning,” Mrs. Hughes answers for me, and they share a look that makes me want to sink into the sidewalk.
Both women turn to Alexander, their eyes twinkling with barely contained curiosity. “And aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Mrs. Hughes asks slyly.
I feel my cheeks warm despite the cold. “This is Alexander, my boyfriend.”
Their eyebrows shoot up in perfect unison.
“Boyfriend,” Mrs. Sullivan looks disappointed. “I was hoping to introduce you to my nephew. He’s an electrical engineer, you know. He’s very smart, and he lives just a town over.” Her eyes hold a hopeful glint as she looks between the two of us.
Before I can respond, Alexander’s hand tightens around mine. Just as quickly, he releases my grip and pulls me into himself, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I’m afraid your nephew will have to settle for disappointment. Olivia is already taken.”
“What do you do for a living, Alexander,” Mrs. Hughes says, curiously.
“I’m a businessman.” Both women’s eyes widen, and then he proceeds to add, “Olivia and I met at work.” The implication is clear, and the women exchange another look.
“Does Chase know you’re back?” Mrs. Hughes asks delicately.
I stiffen, but Alexander’s presence beside me is strangely reassuring. “I’ve not run into him yet.”
“So then you don’t know about him and Amber?” Mrs. Sullivan, ever the gossipmonger, murmurs.
It’s hard to keep my smile in place, but this is why my boss is here pretending to be my boyfriend, isn’t it? “I think Mom said something about him seeing Amber these days.” My tone is nonchalant.
“So you’ve not talked to him since…?”
These women are nosy. I forgot how much.
“No,” I lean into Alexander, partly because I’m beginning to feel tense, and partly because his arm around my shoulder is tightening. “We never really kept in touch. Besides, Alexander takes up all of my free time. I haven’t really had time to talk to Chase. But I’m happy for him and Amber.”
“Oh.” Before Mrs. Hughes can say anything else, Alexander cuts in.
“We really have to go. We have to pick up Sophie, and Olivia promised to show me around town.”
“Well, we won’t keep you,” Mrs. Hughes says, though she looks like she’d love nothing more than to interrogate us for the next hour. “But you must come by for coffee before you leave, Olivia. Both of you.”
“We will,” I promise, hooking my arm with Alexander’s and tugging him away.
“Lovely to meet you both,” Alexander calls over his shoulder as I pull him down the sidewalk.
When we’re safely out of earshot, I groan. “This is what I meant. Everybody wants to look at me with pity. ‘Oh, poor Olivia got dumped, and her cousin is getting married.’”
“I didn’t see much pity in their eyes.” Alexander takes my hand in his again, looking at me. “I saw surprise when you introduced me. See? This was a good idea.”
I give him a half-smile. “I hate that you’re right. But you know it’s only going to get worse. These were just the neighbors. I know this is a huge town, but I know a lot of people. And all of them are very, very nosy.”
Alexander squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry. We can take them.”
As we turn onto Main Street, I find myself getting genuinely excited to show him around. Despite my initial reservations, there’s something special about sharing my hometown with him.
“This is Main Street,” I say, gesturing broadly as we walk.
“Though you already saw it when we drove in. The Winter Wonderland Festival will be here from the 22nd to the 24th. There are rides set up and games, and there’ll be vendors selling crafts, hot chocolate stands, carolers—the whole nine yards. It’s a big deal.”
I watch Alexander’s face as he takes in the details up close he couldn’t appreciate from the car.
The bakery we pass has built an entire gingerbread village in their window, complete with working streetlamps and tiny frosted residents.
The boutique across the street has transformed its window into an elaborate winter scene, life-sized nutcrackers flanking a mechanical carousel of dancing snowflakes.
A small brass band plays holiday tunes near the gazebo, the musicians bundled in scarves and festive hats as they perform “Jingle Bells.”
A few mothers with toddlers and preschoolers take photos in front of the Santa’s Workshop set up in the park pavilion, ready for the after-school rush that will start in about an hour.
And at the center of town square stands the enormous Christmas tree, at least forty feet tall, covered in thousands of twinkling lights and ornaments.
“Then there’s the Holly and Ivy Festival which is even bigger. There’s a parade, live music, and they crown the Holly Queen,” I continue, warming to the topic.
“Holly Queen?” He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s a tradition. A senior girl from the high school gets crowned. It’s supposed to be about community service, but it’s mostly a popularity contest.” I smile smugly. “I won my senior year. Amber was pissed.”
“She was in your class?”
“We’re both the same age,” I explain. “Our parents thought we’d be best friends, but we could hardly tolerate each other. You’ll see why when you meet her. She’s the polar opposite of me. Also, the minute she finds out you’re loaded, she’s going to start throwing herself at you.”
“I thought she was getting engaged to Chase,” Alexander comments idly, his eyes focused on the decorations.
“She is,” I shrug. “But she can’t handle me having something nice.”
“I feel that is a backhanded sort of compliment,” he frowns at me.
I just smile at him. “Don’t worry. If she pounces on you, I’ll rescue you.”
“I’m worried you think I’ll need rescuing.” The corner of his lips twitch, and he takes my hand and wraps it around his upper arm. “You should stay close, then.”
I grin. “Sure. Anyway, how do you like my hometown?”
“It’s charming,” Alexander murmurs. I can tell he means it.
“Wait until you see it at night. The whole street glows.”
We stroll past shops with their doors propped open despite the cold, Christmas music spilling out onto the sidewalk.
“I can’t believe you’ve never picked out a Christmas tree.” I glance up at him, remembering my father’s plans. “It’s like a holiday rite of passage.”
Alexander’s face does something complicated—a flicker of something almost vulnerable before it smooths back into its usual composed expression.
“When I was young, we couldn’t afford one,” he says simply. “By the time we could, my younger brothers and father would get the tree. I was already in high school and focused on other things.”
The admission sends a pang through my chest. I sometimes forget that despite his current wealth, Alexander grew up with very little.
“Well, get ready for the Bob Hartley Christmas Tree Selection Experience,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood. “Dad takes it very seriously. There’s a whole system involving trunk diameter, branch spacing, and needle retention tests.”
“Sounds comprehensive.”
“He’s a perfectionist,” I say. “Takes forever to find ‘the one.’”
“I can respect that,” Alexander says, and there’s a note in his voice that makes me glance up at him. He’s looking at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
I clear my throat. “Have you ever decorated a tree, at least?”