Chapter 16
The cold bites at my face the moment I step outside, but I welcome it. I need it.
The Hartley house is still vibrant with celebration behind me—voices layered over laughter, music drifting through windows glowing warm and golden against the night.
Some of their neighbors showed up an hour ago with bottles of champagne and casserole dishes; apparently that’s what people do in Silverbell Hollow when they hear good news.
Mom and Dad are inside with Bob and Carol, and someone keeps refilling my glass the moment it’s empty, clapping me on the back like I’ve just won the lottery.
Which, in a way, I have.
From inside, I hear Bob’s voice boom out, “To new family!” and my father’s accompanying cheer, louder and more unrestrained than I’ve heard in years.
A chuckle escapes me as I settle onto the porch steps.
Do the Hartleys just bring this out in people?
I’ve never seen Dad like this—so open, so genuinely happy.
Snow falls in fat, lazy flakes, drifting through the glow of Christmas lights that wrap every tree, every post, every inch of railing Bob could reach.
The wooden reindeer near the mailbox, swaying slightly in the breeze.
Plastic candy canes line the walkway, half-buried in snow.
Reindeer figures dot the yard, some lit from within, others just dark shapes dusted white.
And on the roof, the colored lights casting reflections in the windows opposite, the massive light-up reindeer display.
The whole property looks like Christmas exploded in the best possible way.
My hand trembles when I pull it from my pocket to run it through my hair. This is real. She said yes. The ring on her finger isn’t for show. I let out a long breath, watching it crystallize in the December air.
For six years, I’ve watched her. Waited. Told myself I was being patient, strategic, when really I was just terrified she’d never look at me the way I looked at her. And now she’s mine. Finally, actually mine. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since she held out her hand.
“Alexander.”
The voice is quiet. I turn my head and see Mom standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside. She’s wrapped in the cashmere shawl Carol lent her earlier, her dark hair slightly mussed from the celebration.
“It’s cold,” I say, turning back to face the yard. “You should go inside.”
Her heels click against the porch boards, then she’s lowering herself beside me, arranging her skirt before settling on the step.
We sit the same way—feet on the bottom step, knees raised, arms resting across them.
It’s oddly symmetrical, like looking in a mirror that shows me thirty years into the future.
“Olivia is a wonderful girl,” she says quietly. I don’t respond. Just watch the lights blink their patterns across the snow.
“Your father always said you liked her,” Mom continues. “I never believed it.”
Something sharp lodges in my chest. “Dad always knew me better than you did.” The words come out a little distant, but they’re true. They’ve always been true.
Silence stretches between us, filled only by the faint sound of laughter from inside and the faint hum of Christmas lights. I can feel her looking at me, and part of me wants to stand up and walk away. Walk away before I say something I can’t take back.
“You’re right,” she says finally, so soft I almost miss it.
I turn to look at her. She’s staring straight ahead, her profile caught in the warm glow spilling from the windows. There’s something in her expression I’m not used to seeing, something that looks almost like regret.
“Why did you track me down all the way out here?” I ask. “Where are Marcus, Dominic, and Julian? It’s a few days before Christmas. Shouldn’t you be with them?”
“They’re spending Christmas with their friends.” She adjusts the shawl around her shoulders. “Your Dad and I wanted to spend this Christmas with you, so we let them make other plans.”
My shoulders relax. Having my brothers here would have been chaotic in the worst way possible.
My mother says wistfully, “I’ve been watching you, tonight. The way you are with Carol and Bob. With Sophie.” She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice is smaller. “I’m a little jealous.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Jealous.”
“They get to see this side of you.” She gestures vaguely. “You’re warm, loving, affectionate. I don’t remember the last time you smiled at me, Alexander.”
My jaw tightens as I feel a hint of guilt. I bury it. “They’ve treated me like family.”
“And we haven’t?”
I start to stand, ready to escape this conversation, but her hand shoots out and catches my wrist. Not hard, just firm enough to make me pause.
“Alexander, please. Sit.”
I should pull away. Should walk back inside and find Olivia, wrap myself in the uncomplicated joy of this night. But something in Mom’s voice—something raw and almost desperate—makes me sink back onto the step.
“You don’t give us the opportunity,” she says quietly. “To treat you like family.”
Anger flares in my chest. “I don’t give you the opportunity?”
“You shut us out, honey. You have for years.”
“That’s because you shut me out first.” The words rip free before I can stop them, years of carefully controlled resentment spilling over. “The minute Dad got successful, you got a do-over chance with my brothers. And you left me out.”
Mom’s face goes slack with shock. She stares at me like I’ve slapped her. “Honey, I never left you out.”
“Yes, you did.” I’m looking straight ahead now, jaw tight.
“You bought them everything they wanted. Skating lessons and ski trips and private schools. You included them in everything. And me?” I shake my head.
“You’d ask if I wanted to come, but it was always an afterthought.
Like you knew I’d say no, so you didn’t really care if I did. ”
“That’s not—” She stops, pressing her lips together.
When she speaks again, her voice is thick.
“Alexander, you never had time for us. You locked yourself in your room. You were obsessed with making money, with your company. By the time you were seventeen, you were already thinking like a CEO. We didn’t know how to reach you. ”
“You could have tried harder.” The words hang in the cold air between us, sharp and unforgiving.
I don’t know why I’m saying all this. I don’t want to get into this. It’s been too long. But for some reason, seeing the way Olivia is with her parents, a part of me wishes I had that with mine.
Mom is quiet for a long time. Long enough that I think she might get up and leave, might decide I’m not worth this conversation. But then she says whisper-soft, “You’re right.”
I turn to look at her again. She looks tired, older than I remember.
The lines around her eyes are deeper in the dim light.
“Your father and I could have tried harder. Should have tried harder.” She wipes at her face with the back of her hand.
“I thought—I thought you were fine. You always seemed so self-sufficient, so focused. I didn’t realize you felt left behind.
I guess it was easier to focus on your brothers who were always demanding my attention because they were younger. I’m sorry, Alexander.”
Something in my chest cracks, just a little.
“It’s a new beginning for you now,” she says, and there’s hope in her voice, fragile and tentative. “With Olivia. A fresh start.” She turns to face me fully. “Will you give us another chance? Your father and me? Let us be part of your life. Really part of it.”
I want to say yes immediately. I want to close this gap that’s been widening between us for two decades. But the words stick in my throat, tangled up with old hurt and the bone-deep fear that if I let them in, I’ll just be disappointed again.
Mom must see it on my face because she sighs and starts to stand. She’s taken three steps toward the door when I finally speak.
“You guys should stay till New Year’s.”
She stops. Just freezes mid-step, her back still to me. For a moment, I hear nothing but the hum of lights and my own heartbeat. Then she turns around, and the smile on her face is brilliant. Radiant. The kind of smile I haven’t seen from her directed at me in years.
“We’d love that,” she says, and her voice thick with emotion. “We’d really love that, Alexander.”
I nod once, not trusting myself to say anything else.
She takes another step toward me, and for a second I think she might hug me, but she just reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispers, then slips back inside before I can respond.
The door closes softly behind her, and I’m alone again with the cold, the lights, and the tangled mess of emotions in my chest.
I let out a long breath.
Maybe I was obsessed with my business back then. Maybe I expected to receive more than I gave, maybe I was jealous that I had to struggle throughout my childhood while my brothers got everything handed to them. Maybe we all made mistakes, and holding onto them is just another form of self-sabotage.
The door opens again, and I tense, expecting Mom to have come back with more to say.
But when I glance over my shoulder, it’s Olivia.
She’s changed into a cream sweater, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, and she’s got her arms wrapped around herself against the cold.
The light from inside catches in her hazel eyes, making them look more green than brown.
“What are you doing out here?”
I should probably stand up. I should invite her to sit with me or suggest we go back inside where it’s warm. But I just look at her—this woman who said yes, who’s wearing my ring, who chose me—and something loosens in my chest. The emerald glints on her finger, and I feel proud.