Chapter 14
I wake up to the shrill ring of a phone that definitely isn’t mine. My eyes crack open to unfamiliar darkness, and I fumble across the nightstand until my fingers close around the vibrating device. Alexander’s phone. The screen reads “Mom” in bold letters.
Oh, shit.
I sit up so fast my head spins, the sheets pooling around my waist. Where is Alexander? I listen for the sound of running water from down the hall, but there’s nothing. The house is quiet except for the phone’s insistent ringing.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I could let it go to voicemail. I should let it go to voicemail. But what if it’s an emergency?
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough for me to wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.
“Oh.” A woman’s voice, warm and slightly surprised. “I wasn’t expecting... Is this Olivia?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “Yes, hi, Victoria.”
“Well, this is a surprise.” She sounds amused now, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I didn’t realize you were with Alexander.”
My face flames. “He’s, um, busy right now. Can I take a message?”
The silence stretches again, and I start mentally cataloging every worst-case scenario. What if she thinks I’m some random hookup? What if she’s disappointed? What if—
“No, that’s fine.” Her tone is lighter than I expected. “I’ll call him later. How are you, dear?”
“I’m good. Great, actually.” I catch sight of myself in the mirror across from the bed and freeze.
Oh, my god.
My neck looks like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner. Dark purple marks trail from just below my ear down to my collarbone, and there’s another cluster disappearing beneath the collar of Alexander’s T-shirt I had pulled on at some point in the night.
“I hope my son isn’t overworking you,” Victoria says, and my mind immediately flashes to three in the morning when I’d gotten up for water.
I’d barely made it back to bed before Alexander had pulled me down onto the mattress, his hands everywhere, his mouth hot against my throat.
The way he’d folded me in half and whispered filthy things in my ear as he’d fucked me into the bed.
I choke on air. “No! Not at all. He’s—” My voice comes out strangled, my face burning. “He’s great. Very... considerate.”
Why did I say considerate? What is wrong with me?
Victoria laughs, a knowing sound that makes me want to sink into the mattress and disappear. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll let you go, dear. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
The call ends before I can respond, and I drop the phone like it’s burned me.
I flop back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling. His mother. I just talked to his mother while wearing his shirt and sporting a neck full of hickeys like some kind of territorial marking.
And where the hell is Alexander, anyway?
I drag myself out of bed, my body protesting with every movement.
My back aches, my thighs are bruised, and there’s a pleasant soreness between my legs that makes me flush all over again.
Considerate, my ass. Alexander Castellano is many things, but gentle wasn’t on the list last night. Not that I’m complaining.
I pull on leggings and a sweater—one with a high collar, thank god—and pad downstairs.
It’s barely past eight, and the morning sky is gray and heavy with clouds threatening more snow.
The house smells like fresh coffee and butter, and I can hear the faint strains of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” playing from the kitchen radio.
Mom is at the stove, humming along as she flips pancakes.
“Morning, sweetheart.” She beams at me. “Sleep well?”
I sit at the kitchen table. “Why aren’t you at the shop?”
“We’re opening at ten till New Year’s. How was your night?”
“Fine” I mumble. “How was yours?”
She laughs. “Your father and I got in at six in the morning.”
My jaw drops. “What? What were you doing all night?”
Mom blushes. “Well, we got a little drunk, so we stayed overnight at Harper’s. Very embarrassing, honestly. I kept telling her one of us should stay sober, and she kept topping off my glass.”
“Well as long as you had fun.” I look around. “Where is Dad? And Alexander?”
“They went to pick up some groceries.”
“Groceries?” I blink, surprised. “At eight in the morning? But he forgot his phone.”
“We forgot to get chicken for dinner tonight, so Alexander offered to help pick some things up. They took the BMW. ” My mother beams at me. “Your dad really likes spending time with him.”
I pour myself coffee, warmth spreading through my chest at the thought. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Your Alexander is such a lovely young man,” Mom says, plating a stack of pancakes shaped like snowmen. “He’s so thoughtful and considerate.”
Considerate. There’s that word again. I take a long sip of coffee, thinking about how my back hurts and muttering under my breath, “He’s considerate, alright.”
Mom doesn’t hear me—or maybe she does and chooses to ignore it—because she continues; “Your father is over the moon. I think he’s going to cry when you two go back to the city.”
I look up laughing, “Cry? Really, Mom?”
Her smile softens. “Your father is getting old, Olivia. He doesn’t like to show it, but... this is the first time I’ve seen him depend on somebody like this. Lean on them. He’s treating Alexander like a son. He adores you girls, but he’s excited about having Alexander around.”
My throat tightens. I set my mug down carefully, afraid I might drop it. “Mom...”
Mom must see something in my face because her expression shifts. She sits down across from me, reaching for my hand. “Is everything okay, sweetheart? You are happy, aren’t you?”
I fiddle with the Santa-shaped salt shaker in the center of the table, running my thumb over his ceramic beard.
“Sometimes I have a hard time believing this is real.” The words come out carefully, each one measured.
I can’t give away the truth of my relationship with Alexander, but I’m also so confused.
“What are you talking about?”
I look up, meeting her eyes. “I was with Chase for ten years. I believed in him. I loved him. I thought I knew him.” My voice is tense. “And then he turned around and cheated on me. With Amber, of all people.”
Mom’s grip on my hand tightens.
“I’m scared of trusting my heart to anyone,” I admit. “I know Alexander is wonderful. But I’m scared of getting hurt again.” And that part is true. Because his words from last night about making it real are haunting me.
Mom gets up, moving to the coffee maker. She pours me a fresh cup, adding cream and sugar the way I like, then sits back down. “When you fall in love,” she says gently, “you’re bound to get hurt. Because you make yourself vulnerable. But sometimes you have to get hurt to find the right person.”
“That’s a depressing thought.”
She smiles. “Think about it this way: if Chase had never revealed what he was doing, you would’ve wasted more years of your life with him. Years you can’t get back. And you would’ve never met somebody as amazing as Alexander.”
I hate that she’s right.
“But Alexander seems to be the kind of man who uses his actions to prove himself,” Mom continues. “Not just his words. Look at what he’s doing, Olivia. He’s here with you. In Silverbell Hollow. He dotes on you. He cares for your family. These aren’t small things.”
I think about Alexander going tree shopping with Dad, the way he’d surprised Dad with the rooftop display, the way he’d held me last night like I was the most important thing in his world.
‘Let’s make it real,’ he’d whispered against my skin.
“He’s showing you how important you are to him,” Mom says.
“Men like Alexander prove their love through actions. You just need to open your eyes.” She pauses, studying my face.
“I couldn’t find a better man for you, sweetheart, if I searched the whole world.
Just because one man turned out to be a bad apple doesn’t mean the next one will be the same. ”
She leans over and kisses my forehead, the gesture so motherly and familiar that tears prick my eyes. “Be happy,” she murmurs. “You’ve got a gem of a man.”
I hug her, breathing in her familiar lavender perfume. “You’re right. Thank you.”
“I usually am.” She pats my back. “Now, eat some pancakes before they get cold.”
I finish my breakfast, the sweet maple syrup and fluffy pancakes settling warmly in my stomach. When I’m done, I stand and stretch.
“I think I’m going to walk into town,” I say, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door. “I need to pick up some gifts for my friends in the city. And I want to see Avery.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “That sounds lovely. Tell her I say hello.”
“I will.”
I bundle up—coat, scarf, gloves—and step outside into the cold. The sky is still overcast, but there’s a brightness to it now, the sun trying to break through. It’s probably close to nine-thirty by the time I start the walk into town, my boots crunching through the fresh snow on the sidewalk.
Main Street is already busy with holiday shoppers. Garlands are draped between the old-fashioned lampposts, and every storefront window is decorated with twinkling lights and festive displays. “Jingle Bell Rock” plays from speakers somewhere, and I find myself humming along.
I make my way to Avery’s bookshop, pushing open the door with a cheerful jingle of bells.
“Olivia!” Avery looks up from behind the counter, her face breaking into a wide grin. She’s wearing a caramel sweater and has her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. “You came!”
“Of course I did.” I cross to the counter and lean against it. “I told you I would.”
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, the two cats she’s had since she opened the bookstore, are sprawled across a stack of books near the register, looking thoroughly unimpressed by my arrival.
“How are my favorite literary cats?” I reach over to scratch Darcy behind the ears, and he purrs lazily.
“Spoiled rotten, as usual,” Avery laughs, then her expression softens. “I’m really glad you’re here.”