Chapter 15 #2
Alexander and I are inseparable. We take Sophie ice skating in the rink on the edge of town, where he holds my hand the entire time.
He wasn’t lying when he said he’s never skated before.
But he catches on pretty quickly. We build a snowman in the backyard with Sophie, and somehow it turns into a full-scale snowball fight that Alexander loses spectacularly—My sister has a wicked arm.
Yesterday morning, I woke up to find Alexander outside with Dad, shoveling the driveway.
Both of them were laughing about something, their breath misting in the cold air, and I’d stood at the window with my coffee, watching them.
Not analyzing it. Not questioning it. Just..
. watching, letting the warmth in my chest settle there without trying to make it mean something or prove it was temporary.
I’m happy. Beyond happy. And for once, I’m not fighting it.
However, as the first day of the Winter Wonderland Festival approaches, I notice something else: Alexander and Sophie are being very secretive. They disappear into whispered conversations that stop the moment I walk into a room. They exchange meaningful glances across the dinner table.
Last night, I’d come across them in the living room with notebooks and Sophie’s laptop spread across the coffee table, and the second I appeared, Sophie had casually closed the laptop and Alexander had given me an innocent smile that didn’t fool me for a second.
“What are you two plotting?” I’d asked.
“Nothing,” Sophie said, way too quickly.
“Just going over some ideas for the festival,” Alexander added smoothly.
I’d narrowed my eyes at both of them, but they’d just smiled innocently.
Now it’s the afternoon before the festival, and I’m at the shop helping Mom pack orders for an out-of-town delivery. The shop smells like peppermint and balsam, and there’s holiday music playing softly from the speakers Dad installed last week.
I’m wrapping vintage ornaments in tissue paper when I finally voice what’s been bothering me. “Do you know what Alexander and Sophie are up to?”
Mom looks up from the box she’s taping shut, her expression amused. “Those two are thick as thieves. I’ve given up asking.”
“They’re definitely planning something.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Mom shakes her head. “I came down early this morning and was shooed out of my own kitchen by Sophie. She said I was disrupting their strategy meeting.” She sounds genuinely miffed.
I grin. “You sound upset that Alexander didn’t include you.”
“Well, I am!” Mom says indignantly. “I want to be included in their schemes.”
I’m about to respond when Dad emerges from the back room, toolkit in hand, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his overalls. “Who’s not including my beautiful wife?” he demands, mock-outrage on his face. “Tell me their name. I’ll knock their front two teeth out.”
“Your youngest daughter,” Mom says dryly.
Dad immediately grins sheepishly. “That’s my baby.” Mom rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. I laugh, shaking my head at both of them.
“Bathroom sink’s fixed, by the way,” Dad adds, tucking the rag back into his pocket. “Should last you another few years now.”
“You’re a miracle worker, Bob,” Mom says fondly, then glances at me. “What time are you meeting Alexander?”
“Six o’clock. At the entrance to the festival. He was very specific about the time.” I carefully nestle a crystal ornament into the box.
“We’ll go together,” Mom says. “Apparently there’s some huge event before the festival officially opens.”
“I’ll need to get changed first, though,” I add, looking down at my jeans and my shirt, one of Dad’s old flannels. I’ve just finished my sentence when the front door opens. I glance up.
My jaw drops.
Victoria Castellano stands in the doorway, and her face lights up the moment she sees me. “Olivia!” She opens her arms, moving toward me with genuine warmth. Behind her, Alexander’s father—Jacob—steps inside, brushing snow off his shoulders with a smile.
I’m still processing when Victoria pulls me into a hug. She smells like expensive perfume and something that reminds me of peonies. “It’s so wonderful to finally see you again, dear,” she says, pulling back to look at me with those soft blue eyes. “It’s been far too long.”
“What are you doing here?” The words tumble out. Victoria’s smile is gentle, but there’s determination in her eyes. “My son has been hiding from me. But he forgets that I’m his mother.”
I blink at her, my brain scrambling to catch up. “I don’t understand. How did you get—?”
“When were you two going to tell me you were dating?” Victoria asks, her voice warm but with gentle reproach.
Mom appears from behind a display, curiosity on her face. “Who is this?”
I manage to find my voice. “Mom, these are Alexander’s parents.”
Mom’s face lights up immediately. “Oh, how wonderful!” She extends her hand to Victoria. “I’m Carol Hartley. Olivia’s mother.”
Victoria takes her hand. “Victoria Castellano. Please, call me Victoria. And this is my husband, Jacob.” She gestures to Alexander’s father, who’s examining a display of hand-carved nutcrackers with genuine interest.
She turns back to me, squeezing my hand affectionately. “I’ve been trying to get my son settled down for years, Olivia. And you—” She frowns. “You could have said something when we talked on the phone.”
I feel my cheeks turn warm. “I’m so sorry,” I manage. Then, because I’m not above self-preservation, I throw Alexander directly under the bus. “We were keeping it a secret. Alexander thought it was best.” Let him deal with his mother.
Victoria’s eyes narrow slightly, but I’m still confused. “How did you even find out? That we’re together, I mean?”
Her smile turns knowing. “Alexander told me he was vacationing with his girlfriend.” I blink. That’s surprisingly honest of him. “And then you picked up his phone the other day when I called.” Oh. Right.
“So I called Christina,” Victoria continues, satisfaction evident in her voice. “Who mentioned you were on vacation in your hometown. I put two and two together and got your address.”
Of course she did.
I stare at her, thinking that mother and son are way too alike. Both equally determined when they want information.
“Where are you staying?” I ask slowly, looking between the two.
“The Silverbell Inn,” Jacob says, finally turning from the nutcrackers. “Charming place. Very authentic.”
“Where is Alexander?” Victoria asks, looking around the shop.
Dad walks out of the back room just then, and I watch as his eyes land on Jacob. There’s a moment of assessment—Dad in his worn overalls, Jacob in what’s probably an expensive coat.
Jacob moves closer to Dad, extending his hand. “Jacob Castellano. Alexander’s father.”
“Bob Hartley,” Dad says, shaking his hand firmly. “Olivia’s dad. Nice to meet you.”
“You have a wonderful shop here,” Jacob says.
“It’s my wife’s,” Dad says proudly, puffing out his chest. “I just fix things when they break. I’m a plumber by trade.”
“I used to be a plumber.” Jacob grins. “I’m in construction now, but I still know my way around the sink. These modern drainage systems are a pain in the ass, though.”
“You’re telling me.” My father shakes his head in exasperation.
I ignore them, focusing on Alexander’s mother who should not be here. Alexander is going to lose it. I know he loves his family, but he avoids them like the plague.
I check my phone. It’s almost four-thirty.
“I should call Alexander, and let him know you’re here,” I say, pulling out my phone. I dial his number, but it goes straight to voicemail. Busy. I try again with the same result.
I type out a quick message instead before tucking my phone in my pocket. “Victoria, I have to get ready, but my parents are going to meet Alexander in a bit. Do you mind going with them?”
I have to find Alexander and warn him.
“Of course not, dear.” She smiles at me.
I hurry home, my heart hammering against my ribs. Alexander’s parents are here. In Silverbell Hollow. And he’s not answering his phone.
The walk from Mom’s shop feels like an eternity. I keep checking my phone, watching for the three dots that mean he’s typing, but there’s nothing. Just the delivered receipt mocking me.
Maybe he’s home. Maybe he’ll finally answer when I get there.
When I burst through the front door, the house is empty. Silent. “Alexander?” I call out.
Nothing.
I sigh, checking the living room, the kitchen. All empty.
I head to my bedroom, already mentally rehearsing what I’m going to say when he finally calls back. Your mother is here. Your father is bonding with my dad over plumbing. You need to—
I stop dead in the doorway.
On my bed sits a dress.
Not just any dress. A stunning emerald green velvet dress with long sleeves and a fitted bodice that flares slightly at the waist. Next to it, a tailored wool coat in charcoal gray with subtle silver threading along the lapels.
On top of the dress, there’s jewelry. A delicate silver necklace with a single emerald pendant. Matching earrings. Simple, elegant, understated.
Exactly my style.
My throat tightens as I pick up the note resting on the pillow, Alexander’s handwriting stark against the cream cardstock:
‘Put this on.’
I try calling him again. It goes straight to voicemail.
“This is the worst possible time you could pick not to answer your phone,” I mutter, glaring at the screen.
I check the time. Five. I barely have an hour left. I need to get ready.
I head to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes as I go.
The shower is hot and quick, washing away the day.
I dry my hair, and let it fall in loose waves around my shoulders, apply minimal makeup—just enough to enhance without looking overdone.
The dress slides on like it was made for me, the velvet soft against my skin, the fit absolutely perfect.