Chapter 2 #2
Roland and I step up to the counter. Maggie flashes me a mischievous grin. “Lookin’ for a girlfriend, Alex? Because I can set you up with someone amazing.” Her eyebrows dance over her eyes.
Roland stares, fascinated. “I didn’t know eyebrows could do that.”
While I’m also impressed with her eyebrow skills, I’m dumbfounded at her question. Maggie’s an attractive woman, but I’d put her in her mid-forties. Nearly twenty years older than me. Never once in the year and a half that I’ve known her have I gotten the impression she’s interested in me. “Uh…”
She laughs. “Calm down, lover boy. Not with me. As if you could handle this.” She sweeps her hand up and down her body, then holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off the small diamond on her wedding band set.
“Besides, I’m very happily married and my husband’s quite good at handling me. ” She winks. “If you catch my drift.”
Imagining Maggie’s husband handling her wasn’t on today’s to-do list. “Uh. Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” She nods to her right. “I’m talkin’ about Finley.”
Finley.
I swallow hard. Never in a million years would I date her.
Sure, I’m fascinated—but only because she’s nothing like the women I usually date. Sweet. Kind. Always cheerful. She’s sunshine in a bottle. She knows all the regulars by name, their drinks, even their kids, their pets. She has a way of making my shitty days just a little bit better.
She can spot when someone’s struggling, and she goes out of her way to lift them up.
Last year when my girlfriend Shawna had broken up with me, she noticed I was off.
I hadn’t told Roland, let alone the staff at the coffee shop, but Finley picked up on it.
For weeks, she asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, but she knew better, so she’d slip a muffin in with my Danish and scrawl encouragements on my cup like.
“Today’s a new day!” and “One day at a time!”
What had been routine became something I looked forward to. She was something I looked forward to. And before I knew it, I was out of my funk.
Sure, I’ve thought about asking her out. But she’s not my type. I date women who run companies, who live and breathe million-dollar deals. Finley? She makes lattes. Yeah, I hear how that sounds—pretentious asshole, right? Maybe I am. But I stick to women who speak the same language I do.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed her laugh, or the way she’s genuinely interested in people.
Or the way her smile hits me square in the chest. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I weren’t Alex King, cofounder of Zebra Tech, chasing seven million in venture capital.
If I’d chosen something simpler, then I’d be someone who could date someone like Finley.
But that’s a fantasy, and a stupid one. Even if I wanted to ask her out, I swore off dating after Shawna.
I’m a workaholic with zero work-life balance—which she made abundantly clear.
And when things go to hell at the office, I’m an asshole to live with.
As Roland likes to remind me, we’re married to Zebra Tech.
For better or worse, richer or poorer. We were banking on richer, but poorer’s always lurking.
I don’t have the luxury of splitting my focus.
“Hey, Finley,” Roland says, oblivious to my existential crisis. He leans over the counter. “Do you like Christmas?”
She looks up from making Fake Aunt Sylvia’s drink and smiles—when she does, it’s not just with her mouth and eyes. Her whole body radiates with it. “Of course, I do, Roland. Only a scrooge wouldn’t like Christmas.”
“Have you heard of Hollybrook, Vermont?” he asks. “It’s the Christmas capital of the world.”
I watch in horror as I realize what he’s doing. I need to shut him down, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it. The thought of bringing Finley to Hollybrook has short circuited my brain.
Maggie takes the credit card from my hand and taps the screen.
That jars me out of my stupor. “Uh, Maggie? We didn’t give our order yet.”
“Please…” She rolls her eyes so hard I see nothing by whites. “You order the same thing every day. A large flat white and a cheese Danish. Mister Matchmaker over there orders a medium caramel latte.” She hands back my card. “Besides, you could do worse than Finley.”
There’s no doubt my mother would love her.
When my mother met my first serious girlfriend after college, Patricia had called my parents provincial, which I didn’t think sounded so bad.
Mom told me that she hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
Mom was right, of course. Days later, I asked Patricia about it, and she’d admitted it—unapologetically—that she thought my parents didn’t have enough class, and that once we were married, I’d need to distance myself from them.
We broke up seconds later.
I might not spend as much time with my family as they would like, but I’m not going to let anyone trash talk them either.
Then, when my mother met Shawna two years ago, she told me my girlfriend was only interested in the big payoff I’d get when Roland and I eventually sold our start-up.
I was pissed and told my mother she was wrong.
But months later, I was eating a huge slice of humble pie.
Roland and I had hit a low point. We needed more funding, and we were struggling to find new investors.
I poured my heart out to Shawna, and instead of offering encouragement, she dumped me, claiming she’d written a paper about sunk cost fallacy, and that she’d wasted enough time on something that was almost guaranteed to lose.
It was only after she left that I realized she hadn’t misspoken when she’d said something instead of someone.
I haven’t dated since.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t been with a woman. I’ve slept with several, but relationships? Not until we see Zebra Tech to fruition.
But right now, Roland is still chatting with Finley while she makes our drinks.
“You’ve really never seen a white Christmas?” he asks in amazement. I can spot Salesman Roland a mile away. He’s really pushing this.
“Nope, never.” Finley has a wistful look on her face.
“I’ve always wanted to, but…” She shrugs and to my surprise, something flickers in her eyes, a hint of sadness, but then just as quickly it’s gone.
“Who knows?” she says a little too brightly.
“If all this crazy weather keeps up, maybe Atlanta’ll start havin’ blizzards. ”
Roland props his arm on the back of the espresso machine partition.
“Why wait twenty years to see one when you can go to Hollybrook? Did I mention it’s the Christmas capital of the world?
” He turns to look at me with an encouraging look.
I recognize it from when we tag team potential investors.
“What do they have up in Hollybrook, Alex? Candy cane eating contests?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, but it feels a little forced.
I should walk away and leave this woman alone, but I can’t seem to stop myself from saying, “But they have just about everything else. The town’s kind of Bavarian-themed and there’s always snow at Christmas, so they capitalize on it.
They have a gingerbread house decorating contest. Sleigh rides. Outdoor ice skating.”
She has a hesitant look, but I see the interest in her eyes, and I can’t seem to stop myself from adding, “Hollybrook even has live reindeer, and a Santa with a genuine belly and full white beard.” I give her a conspiratorial grin. “His name’s Tom Henson. He sells insurance in the off season.”
A gleam fills Roland’s eyes. I’ve seen that look whenever he snags a new investor in our start-up. He thinks we’ve set the hook, now we just need to reel her in.
“Finley, I know you don’t have plans for Christmas,” Roland says. “A couple of days ago, I heard you tell a customer you were spending the day at home with your cat. Wouldn’t you rather have a real Christmas?”
Her smile fades. Roland’s an ass. Who reminds someone they’ll be alone for the holidays? I don’t know why she won’t be with her family, but it’s obviously a sore spot.
Roland turns to me. “What are the dates you’ll be gone?”
I resist the urge to cringe, only because I don’t want Finley to think I’m rejecting her, even if I kind of am. “December twenty-second until January first.”
“Eleven whole days in a Christmas paradise.” Roland sighs, then swings his attention back to her. “You’ll stay in a cozy family home complete with a fireplace and a real Christmas tree, experiencing all the things middle-class families in Hollybrook do at Christmas.”
Her eyes narrow. “Wait—you two are serious.”
“As a heart attack,” Roland said solemnly, pressing a hand to his chest.
I wonder what Roland told her before I started paying attention, because she seems to know she’d be going with me.
Her gaze lands on me, full of questions.
This idea’s insane. But idiot that I am, I don’t hate it.
There would be a lot of upsides to someone like Finley coming.
First and foremost, I’d get my own room.
Second, my mother will adore her and stop lecturing me for picking “materialistic women.” Third, Finley’s chatty enough to be a good buffer between me and my family.
It doesn’t hurt that I sort of know her, so it wouldn’t be as awkward as dragging home a total stranger.
Am I seriously considering this? It’s completely ridiculous, yet I find myself leaning closer and lowering my voice. “It’s a long story, but unless I bring a girlfriend home for Christmas, I have to sleep on a sofa bed and the brattiest three kids you ever met will be sharing the room with me.”
She makes a face. “It’s December seventeenth, Alex. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, let alone experienced it. So, becoming your girlfriend in five days? Not happening.”
I held up my hands. “I know, but I have a solution.”
The man next to me loudly clears his throat and says in an angry tone, “Are you gonna make my gingerbread latte or chat it up with Mr. Good-lookin’ all day?” His eyes narrowed. “Because some of us have to get to work.”
Finley cringes, and I resist the urge to grab the man by his yellow-ringed white collar and shove him against the wall for talking to her like that.
Wait. Where the hell did that come from?
“Sorry. Roger,” she says. “You’re up next.” She holds up his cup to show him, then gives me an apologetic look. “I’m not gonna lie, Alex, it’s kind of tempting, but—”
“Hold off on that no and but.” Roland holds up his hand. “Don’t make a decision until you get more information. How about Alex comes down when you get off work and he can give you more details?”
She shakes her head and hands him his caramel latte. “I have to leave right after work.”
“Then how about during your break?” he pushes. When she hesitates, he shoots a glance over to Maggie. “Hey, Maggie. Does Finley get a break?”
“Sure thing,” she says with a smug look. “Right about 1:30.”
Roland nods, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Okay, Alex’ll be down at 1:30. He’ll explain the whole situation and then you can decide.” When she doesn’t answer, he adds, “What can it hurt to listen to what the man has to say?”
Finley hands me my drink. “Okay, I’ll listen, but don’t expect me to say yes.”
“Deal.” Roland looks triumphant. “You won’t regret it, Finley. Hollybrook snow is the finest snow you’ve ever experienced and the mountain air…” He shakes his head with a far-off look. “You’ve never smelled anything so fresh.”
Roland’s full of shit. He’s never stepped foot in Hollybrook, let alone anywhere in the entire state of Vermont.
A doubtful look covers Finley’s face, but then she focuses on making Roger’s drink. I can’t help notice that she’s not smiling and something pinches painfully in my chest.
Pissed—and not sure why—I shove Roland to the end of the counter. Bethany, one of the other baristas, hands me my Danish. “Have a good day, Alex.” She gives me a wink before she heads off to warm up another pastry.
I head for the exit, fuming. Why am I angry? While it’s impulsive, bringing Finley isn’t the worst idea. She’s a sweet, thoughtful girl. She’d fit in perfectly with my family. So why do I feel like pond scum?
Maybe because you’re using her.
Bottom line: Finley doesn’t deserve to be a pawn in my messed-up need to keep my distance from my family.
Once we’re in the lobby, Roland shoulder checks me. “I’ve got the line set, King. It’s up to you to reel her in.” He winks. “And if you play your cards right, you’ll get laid out of the deal.”
I shoot him a dark look, but he doesn’t notice, likely because he doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. He’s already headed for the elevator bank.
If Finley actually agrees to Hollybrook, there will be no sex. Convincing her to come is bad enough. Sleeping with her would be diabolical.
But I’m already burying my self-disgust and convincing myself that this can work. If I’m going to spend eleven days with my family, I should be able to do so without emergency trips to the chiropractor. My family will love Finley, and she’ll love them. It’ll be nothing but sunshine and candy canes.
If she agrees.
Like any good salesman, I just need to figure out what Finley wants.
A shadow crosses over my heart as I realize: convincing her makes me a stone-cold asshole.
And yet… I’m going to do it anyway.