Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Finley
I feel like I’ve stepped straight into a Hallmark movie—the old ones, where the plot was sweet and centered on orphans or old people—not the newer ones full of cheesy love stories.
Not that I’m bashing cheesy romance—I love a good one (don’t tell Barb)—but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m literally living my dream.
“You’ve really never been caroling?” Mallory asks from the front seat of her mom’s SUV.
“Nope,” I say from the backseat, seated next to Alex. There’d been a brief scuffle getting in—Mallory insisting I sit up front for the better view, while Alex insisted he wanted to sit with his girlfriend—before dramatically opening the back door for me.
I slid in dutifully, a little confused at first. But then it hit me—he was trying to sell us as a couple.
His mom might be convinced, but his brother was too quiet over dinner, watching me a little too closely.
Alex probably thinks sitting beside me, and even suggesting caroling, is all part of the act.
The disappointment that settles over me takes me by surprise. I thought he actually wanted to come. Is it all part of the act? How am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s pretend?
You don’t, Finley. Just assume it’s all pretend.
I turn toward the window, watching the snow blur past, and try not to wonder which version of Alex I’m sitting next to.
When Mallory and I had gone upstairs to change, she’d been practically buzzing. “This is huge,” she said breathlessly as she dug through her closet. “Alex hates Christmas caroling.”
Guilt prickled at my neck. He was doing something he hated… for me. “He’s just being nice. He knows how much this stuff means to me.”
“That’s just it!” she said, spinning toward me.
“My brother is a lot of things, but being nice for the sake of it isn’t one of them.
” Her smile faltered. “At least, not anymore.” She hesitated, then, like someone had flipped a switch, her excitement came roaring back.
“So, if he’s going caroling just because you want to…
.” Her eyes went dreamy. “He must really love you.”
Panic shot through me, and I threw up my hands. “No, Mallory. I promise, he doesn’t love me. We’re too new.”
She tossed a pair of leggings at me. “Here. Put these on under your jeans. I’ll find you a coat.” She turned toward the closet.
I unbuttoned my jeans, figuring she’d see more of me in a bathing suit. I was wearing perfectly innocent underwear which had more coverage than the bikini bottoms I’d worn at the apartment pool last summer.
“How long have you two been dating?” she asked, still rummaging.
“Not long,”
“You said that already,” She flicked another hanger across the rod. “How long?”
“We started out as friends so… it’s hard to say,” I hedged. Technically, true. Ish.
“A few months, then?”
“My cat got sick in September,” I had said, like that answered anything.
At least it was true. The real problem? Alex and I hadn’t exactly compared notes.
Dating timeline, first-date story, favorite couple activities—basic things a fake couple should probably get straight.
But I’ve been too starry-eyed about spending Christmas here, and then we’d fought and well, here we were.
Mallory spun around holding a hanger with a tan puffy coat like she was Vanna White. I was perched on the bed, tugging on the fuzzy-lined leggings she’d thrown at me.
“Nope,” she declared, tossing the coat into a chair.
“We need something that makes you radiate.” She flipped through more hangers as though on a mission.
Then she let out a triumphant gasp. “This one!” She held up a short, bright red dress coat.
“It’s perfect with your dark hair and pale complexion. ”
“Thank both my parents’ Irish blood for that.” I said, slipping off my cardigan and leaving just my black long-sleeve T-shirt.
Mallory smiled when her gaze drops. “I love your pin!”
I glanced down at the reindeer pin. “It was my mother’s.”
Her face softened. “Even better. We’ll put it on your coat so it’s not hiding.”
By the time she was done layering and accessorizing me like her personal Barbie doll, I was swaddled in a sweater, jeans, the red coat, scarf, hat, and the shiny reindeer pin.
“You look so festive for your first time caroling,” Mallory announced, beaming like she’d just won Project Runway.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
When we’d gone downstairs, Alex had stared at me for several uncomfortable seconds, and my heart had sunk. His face was completely blank, and I couldn’t read a thing. Was he upset I was wearing his sister’s coat? He’d known I was borrowing one. He’d been the one to suggest it.
Now, sitting beside him, he keeps a careful few inches of space between us.
I’m relieved he’s not pushing the touchy-feely act.
We had agreed no kissing unless it was absolutely necessary, but we never talked about the rest of it.
Would he expect handholding? He doesn’t strike me as a hand-holder.
More like an arm draped around his girlfriend kind of guy.
Like when he ushered me out of the airport with his hand on the small of my back, or when he slung his arm over my shoulders in his parents’ kitchen.
Funny how different my reactions had been. At the airport, I’d felt a flutter in my stomach and told myself to chill out. Maybe I had a crush, but I couldn’t act on it. In the kitchen though? I’d been pissed. I hadn’t wanted him anywhere near me.
So how do I feel now?
Confused.
I glance up at him, and his gaze holds mine for a few seconds. I swear I see a hint of wistfulness before he turns back toward the window.
What am I supposed to make of that? Is he feeling bad about the way he treated me on the ride from the airport? Is his offering to go caroling and to the market tomorrow his way of extending an olive branch? If so, I’ll take it—but that doesn’t mean I can forget I’m not his ideal woman.
You’re just being butt hurt. At least he told you the truth instead of leading you on like most of the guys you’ve dated in the past.
People have types, and who am I to judge what Alex wants in a woman?
But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. Badly.
“Looks like the Kramers painted their house,” he says to the front of the car.
“No,” his mother says thoughtfully. “I don’t think they did.”
“Huh. Must look different in the dark.”
Mallory twists around in her seat. “Okay, Alex. Spill the details about Finley.”
He cocks a brow. “She’s sitting right here. You could ask her. Besides, I figured you’d grilled her upstairs.”
“She was cagey,” Mallory says with a pout.
He shoots me a questioning look.
“She asked how long we’ve been dating,” I admit, “and I told her it was hard to say since we started out as friends. But my cat got sick in September… so we’ve been friends since then.”
He studies me a moment, then turns to his sister. “That’s right.”
“When did you realize she was more than a friend?” she presses, leaning farther into the gap between the seats.
Alex exhales. “It’s hard to say.”
Mallory groans. “Come on, Alex. It’s not hard. You have to know when you started liking her.”
He pauses and something in him softens. “Believe it or not, over a year ago. Right after Shawna broke up with me. Finley noticed I was down and tried to cheer me up for a couple of weeks. I’d seen her in the shop before, but that was the first time I really saw her.”
“Oh, my God, that’s so romantic,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you ask her out sooner?”
“I didn’t want to come across as creepy,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve seen the finance bros hit on her. They treat her like a game. I even heard they’ve got a pool going to see who can get her to say yes first.”
The blood rushes from my head as I whip my head toward him. “They do?”
“Yeah.” His mouth twists as he catches my eye. “They’re assholes. I knew you were too smart to fall for it, but I worried you’d lump me in with them.”
The way he says it—earnest, almost protective—sends a flutter racing through my chest before I can stop it. For a second, I want to believe him.
And that terrifies me.
Because Alex is good. Too good. Roland once told me he was in sales, pitching their start-up to investors.
Of course he’d know how to spin words, how to make things sound better than they are.
But if he’s this convincing, it only proves I can’t know what’s real—especially when we’re in front of his family.
I force a smile to cover the hitch in my pulse. “I have a strict no-dating-the-customers policy. Even if I hadn’t already pegged them as assholes—which I had, because I’m not a pushover.”
Irritation flickers in his eyes. So, he did get my call out.
“Wait,” Mallory says. “You mean you had a no-dating policy, because you’re dating Alex and he’s still customer.”
A smug look spreads across Alex’s face. “Obviously, I won her over.”
His answer pricks my pride, and I roll my eyes. “I had a moment of weakness.”
I’m annoyed and I’m not sure why. Is it because he implied I’m easily swayed? Or because he insinuated that his personality is just that charming?
Both. Definitely both.
“We’re here,” Valerie announces as she pulls into a small lot labeled Hollybrook Historical Society Private Parking beside an old house.
“Valerie, how are you connected to the historical society?” I ask as the car stops.
She swivels to look at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Didn’t Alex tell you?”
Heat creeps up my neck. Great. Now I look like the world’s worst girlfriend for not asking Alex. I shoot him a look, and he grimaces.
“Sorry, Mom. With Finley’s busy schedule, we don’t get a lot of time together, so it hasn’t come up.”
She sighs. “I work parttime as an archivist for the museum. Though, I don’t know how much longer I’ll have my job with all the government budget cuts.” She pushes her door open before anyone can respond.
The air in the car dips. It’s clearly a touchy subject, and guilt knots in my stomach.