CHAPTER 27
OLIVIA
December had crept up without me noticing. Christmas itself had been in Berkshire. Alex fits into it so easily it almost startles me. We’ve fallen into this unspoken agreement: Holidays are shared. Mine with her, hers with me.
So Christmas is spent in England, and in return, I’m flying to the Philippines for New Year’s, slipping into the warmth and noise of the Cadiz household to ring in the year at her side.
Somehow, it feels perfectly fair.
Alex showed up, suitcase in one hand and a ridiculous amount of presents in the other, like she’d been preparing for it all along.
Within an hour she was out in the garden, a borrowed tennis racquet in her hand, running around with my cousins and little nieces and nephews like she’d known them all her life.
She let the kids “beat” her in makeshift doubles, pretending to miss volleys on purpose until they were shrieking with laughter.
At one point, she had two of my smallest niece perched on her back like she was giving piggyback rides between points, and I swear my heart had never clenched so hard in my life.
Bianca leans against the doorframe beside me, arms crossed, watching Alex. “You know she’s showing off,” she says, smirk sharp enough to cut ribbon.
“She’s entertaining the children,” I corrected.
“Mm. Entertaining you more like.”
I ignore her, but she’s not wrong.
Nan, meanwhile, adopts Alex in roughly three seconds.
She presses an extra mince pie into her hand “keep your strength up, dear” and before Alex can blink, she’s being ushered to the sofa with the family photo albums spread across her lap.
Nan narrates every page like Alex has been missing from these stories all her life.
Alex seemed to slot in with ease. Dad lit up when she laughed at his terrible cracker jokes, and the uncles roped her into helping carve the turkey like she’d been doing it every Christmas.
She didn’t hesitate, just rolled up her sleeves and joined in, chatting about racing, training, and even her worst cooking disasters, which had my aunts roaring with laughter.
“Honestly, Alex,” Dad said as he topped up her glass, “you fit in faster than I expected. I think Nan’s going to adopt you outright.”
“I already have,” Nan cut in, patting Alex’s hand with a twinkle in her eye.
The day stretches long in that distinctly Christmas way. Alex gamely pulls her cracker with Bianca, the bang echoing through the dining room. The flimsy paper crown slides sideways over her ear; she doesn’t bother fixing it, just wears it like it’s part of her race kit.
She reads her cracker joke aloud, something painfully unfunny about snowmen and delivers it with such sincerity the entire table groans. She beams like she’s won an award.
By the time pudding comes out, she’s in a deep conversation with Aunt Caroline about holiday traditions. They’re comparing stories like they’ve been doing this for years, laughing loudly enough that the cousins passing custard bowls pause just to stare at them.
Later, the living room dissolves into the usual Christmas sprawl: Alex and I end up on the sofa under the same blanket, shoulders pressed close. She glances at me, her smile soft and unguarded, her paper crown still crooked on her head.
“This… is nice,” she whispers, voice low enough for just me.
I bite back a smile. “You’re officially part of the tradition now. That comes with perks.”
“Perks, huh? Like what?”
“Like unlimited cocoa refills, permanent blanket-sharing rights, and me pretending I don’t notice how adorable you are,” I murmur.
She lets out that little breathy laugh. “Hmm… think I can handle all that,” she says, tugging the blanket higher around us. Her hand slips into mine properly this time, fingers threading together.
We lean into each other, watching the twinkling lights on the tree, the low murmur of the telly, the cousins arguing over whose toy belongs to who. Alex’s thumb brushes over mine, slow and absentminded, but each stroke feels like it’s writing something across my skin.
“Your family’s incredible,” she whispers. “It feels… warm here.”
“They really like you.” I turn slightly, brushing my cheek against her hair.
She huffs a quiet laugh. “Your Nan tried to feed me a fifth mince pie.”
“That’s how she says she loves someone.”
“Well,” she says, nudging her nose against my shoulder, “I guess she and I have that in common.”
Alex tilts her head up, eyes meeting mine, softer than the lights strung across the tree. “I mean it,” she murmurs. “Being here with you… it feels like something I never knew I wanted until now.”
I swallow, my thumb tracing the back of her hand. “You’re getting sappy.”
She grins, leaning in closer, her voice dropping low. “Only for you.”
“Good. I like it when you’re sappy.” I laugh under my breath, unable to stop smiling.
“Yeah?” she asks, nose brushing mine for the smallest, sweetest second.
“Yeah.”
We sit there tangled together, sharing the same breath, the same warmth, the same quiet truth neither of us bothers to hide.
It’s warmer than any Christmas I’ve ever had.
ALEXANDRA
New Year’s at our house isn’t a holiday, it’s a survival sport.
The dining table looks like it’s preparing for war (lechon, pansit, lumpia towers that could kill a man if they toppled), kids are already waving sparklers indoors like they’re lightsabers, and my uncles are fighting over who gets the last San Miguel beer.
And then there’s my girlfriend. Mom had her glued to her side half the night like they were long-lost best friends.
At one point I walked into the kitchen and found the two of them gossiping heads bent together, laughing at God-knows-what.
I swear, Mom looked at her with more fondness than she’s ever looked at me. Traitor.
Meanwhile, I’m outside with Archer and a handful of our cousins, all of us crouched over a chaotic tangle of wires like we’re defusing a bomb instead of setting up New Year’s fireworks.
Archer is insisting he “definitely knows which one is supposed to go first,” while I’m fairly certain at least two of the rockets are pointing in completely the wrong direction.
I’m pretending to focus, but Olivia’s laugh carries over from the veranda. I can hear her talking to Mom and the aunties, answering their rapid-fire questions with that gentle charm she doesn’t even realize she has.
Archer nudged me with his elbow, nearly making me drop a whole Roman candle. “Stop staring like you’re about to propose to her under the parol.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, very unconvincingly.
He smirks, that ridiculous twin-smirk I’ve perfected over years of sibling rivalry. “I’m happy for you, you know.”
I squint at him. “You are?”
“Absolutely,” he says, looping a fuse wire like he’s defusing a bomb. “You’ve been living in your head forever, Lex. Always so… cautious. And now? You’re actually letting yourself care. Not just overthinking it, not just hiding. You’re… out there.”
I snort. “Out there? You make it sound like I’m jumping off Everest.”
“You basically are,” he fires back. “And somehow, I’m proud of you anyway.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “Wow, that’s… painfully sentimental for you, Archer.”
He nudges me again. “Hey, I’m allowed one heartfelt twin moment, geez. And don’t act like you didn’t need it.”
I shake my head, trying to push down the warmth rising in my chest. “I just… don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” he says, and this time his voice softens. “We’ve all known Olivia since the academy. Everyone loves her—hell, she’s practically part of the family already.”
I nod, chewing the inside of my cheek, the truth settling heavier than I expected. “I know,” I murmur. “And… I really like her. More than I thought I would.”
“Just… don’t overthink it. Enjoy it. You’ve got one hell of a reason to be happy.”
I let out a soft breath, the night air suddenly feeling lighter. Somewhere in the distance, Olivia’s laughter drifts across the lawn, warm and bright, and I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
By the time we’re done setting up the fireworks and miraculously avoiding blowing ourselves up, the aunties have already migrated toward the long table under the veranda lights. And from inside the house, the unmistakable sound of the karaoke machine kicks in.
I hover near the food table, plate in hand, pretending not to eavesdrop in Olivia and Archer’s conversation. There’s something about the way Olivia’s shoulders relax when she laughs with Archer, a quiet warmth I haven’t seen all day.
When it’s my turn to sing, of course, I didn’t resist. I grab the mic, deciding to dive headfirst into one of the classic pop ballads.
I belt it out with just enough dramatic flair to make everyone groan and cheer at the same time.
Olivia catches my eye, grinning like a little secret is passing between us, and I grin back, caught in the orbit of her light.
Between songs, I drift back toward the sofa, claiming a spot beside her. Archer gives me a mock glare, nudging me with his elbow. “You’re stealing my audience, Lex.”
“They’re all here for her anyway.” I whisper, shoulder brushing hers.
She laughs softly, that gentle, unguarded sound.
“So,” Archer said, leaning in like he was about to share a trade secret, “what do you think of my forehand? Be honest.”
Olivia snorted into her glass. “Honestly? It’s good. But you rush the point too much. You’re obsessed with ending rallies in three shots.”
His jaw dropped, then he laughed. “That’s exactly what Coach says. Now I have two people nagging me.”
“You asked,” Olivia teased, nudging his shoulder like they’d known each other for ages. “What you need is patience. Tennis isn’t about who hits harder, it’s about who thinks clearer.”
Archer grinned, a little starstruck, I could tell. “Okay, but imagine if I teamed up with you in mixed doubles. Cadiz-Smythe versus the world. People would lose their minds.”
Olivia laughed, tilting her head at him. “They’d definitely lose something. Mostly their patience watching you trying to end every rally in three shots.”
He gasped in mock offense. “Wow. Betrayed by my future doubles partner.”
“Future doubles partner, sure,” she teased, “but I’d be the one covering your mess.”
Instead of sulking, Archer lit up, like he’d just found a co-conspirator. They kept tossing jabs back and forth.
Later, when the living room hit peak chaos, two cousins belting a Whitney Houston duet, Mom clapping like she was at a Vegas show, I slipped out onto the veranda, trading the noise for the crisp night air. I leaned on the railing, letting the hum of the party fade into a background blur.
The sliding door creaked, and then Olivia’s footsteps padded across the tiles. She didn’t say anything at first, just settled beside me, shoulder brushing mine. We stood there, staring up at the stars, the karaoke muffled behind glass.
“Escaping your fans already?” she murmured, a smile in her voice.
I huffed a laugh. “Just giving the neighbors a break. Can’t keep outshining the karaoke machine forever.”
She tilted her head toward me, that sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so humble.”
“You loved it.”
Her cheeks warmed in the glow of the porch light, but she didn’t deny it. “I’ll admit… you’re full of surprises. Didn’t have that on my bingo card.”
“What else is on your bingo card?” I asked, playful.
She hums, tilting her head like she’s weighing her options. “Hmm… you somehow making time to check in on me even when you’re busy, eating four cups of rice without even blinking… and, oh making me laugh at the most ridiculous things, even when I probably shouldn’t.”
“You forgot the square where you end up falling for me.” I said, grinning.
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and soft at once. “Cocky, aren’t you?”
“Confident,” I corrected, letting the word hang. Then, quieter, “Besides, I already hit jackpot with you.”
She laughed under her breath, shaking her head, but her fingers brushed against mine on the railing.
I turned my hand, lacing them together. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed once, as if saying, yeah, I’m here.
My aunt yelled, “One minute, everyone outside!” Fireworks were already being dragged out, cousins running around like sugar-fueled rockets. Olivia and I followed, blending back into the noise of it all.
Olivia got swept up instantly, my mom tugging her toward a platter of lumpia while Archer shouted something about me helping with the sparklers. I caught her eye across the crowd, though, and she gave me that little half-smile that said she wasn’t lost, she was right where she wanted to be.
Soon enough, everyone gathered in the street, phones out, neighbors joining in. Someone started the countdown, voices rising with the hum of firecrackers already popping in the distance.
“Ten!”
Olivia was suddenly beside me again, sliding into the gap at my side.
“Nine!”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“Eight!”
“Tell me you’re not going to chicken out of our relationship,” she teased, leaning close so only I could hear.
“Seven!”
I smirked, heart hammering. “Cadiz doesn’t chicken out.”
“Six!”
Her hand found mine again, fingers slipping between mine with practiced ease.
“Five!”
The crowd roared louder, fireworks already primed in every hand.
“Four!”
I leaned in, close enough to catch the faint citrus of her perfume, close enough to feel the tremor of her laugh against me.
“Three!”
“Liv,” I whispered, everything I wanted to say wrapped into her name.
“Two!”
Her eyes met mine, wide and unguarded, catching the streetlight like they were holding it just for me.
“One!”
And then we kissed.
The whole street exploded, fireworks ripping across the sky, neighbors shouting, horns blaring. Not stolen this time. Not hidden. Just us, in the middle of the noise, like the world had finally caught up to where we already were.