Chapter 10 #2
“Mom’s position has been paid for by grants,” Mallory says softly. “She loves her job, so it’s been hard for her to process.”
I can’t imagine her losing a job she loves right before Christmas. “I’m so sorry I brought it up,” I whisper, sinking lower in my seat.
“Alex would know,” Mallory snaps, “if he called her more than a few times a year. Texting doesn’t count, Alex.” With that, she gets out too.
The car is suddenly too quiet. Alex and I are still in the back. He reaches for his door handle, but I grab his arm. “Alex.”
He stops, eyes on me, waiting.
“I feel terrible. If I’d known about her job, I never would have mentioned it.”
His jaw tightens. “A fact I would have known if I’d called her. I know. No need to rub it in.”
I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but maybe if he had called her, he would’ve known and warned me.
He starts to pull away, but I hold tight. “I didn’t mean it like that. I promise. Despite what happened earlier between us, I intend to make this as believable as possible.” When he doesn’t say anything, I add softly. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.”
His expression softens. “It’s not your fault, and it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you.
You’re doing great, Finley. Trust me.” A faint grin curves his mouth.
“Let’s not let it spoil caroling.” Then he opens the door and slides out.
Great. Now he’s being nice again, which means I’ll spend the rest of the night overanalyzing every word.
I’ll make it easy for you, Finley: pretend.
Sighing, I climb out, I give Valerie an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to stir anything up.”
Surprise flashes in her eyes. “Oh, my goodness, stop. I’m fine. You had no way of knowing. We’re not going to let this bring us down. We’ve got some caroling to do!”
The parking lot sits beside the historical society building at the edge of the square. I want to take it all in, but Valerie’s already gone inside, and I feel like I’ve caused enough trouble for one night. I’ll see it all soon enough.
The cold air nips at my cheeks as I cross the short distance to the door, the faint hum of voices drifting from inside. Warm light spills through the frosted windows, and I draw in a steadying breath before following her in.
Inside the historical society foyer, about ten people are gathered. One of the men perks up when he sees Alex. “Oh, you brought another male voice, Valerie! Tenor or bass?”
“Tenor,” she says with a teasing look.
An older woman with snow-white hair scowls. “And you brought a few more people. I didn’t bring enough hot chocolate for three more people.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Alex says. “I’ll skip the hot chocolate.”
“Not me,” Mallory says. “Is it homemade or the packets with the rock-hard marshmallows, Anita?”
“As though I’d use those abominations,” Anita says in disgust.
Mallory smirks. “Yep, I’m not giving up my hot chocolate. Sorry.”
“Anita, don’t worry,” Valerie says. “We Kings can wait until we get home.”
“Even better,” Mallory whispers in my ear. “Mom’s is the best.”
Now I’m excited about post-caroling cocoa.
Another woman circulates with pamphlets.
“You all know the drill. We walk around the town square, sing in front of the hotels, then back here for hot chocolate. Any questions for the newcomers?” She grins at Alex and offers him a pamphlet.
“Or the old-comers who haven’t joined us in nearly twenty years? ”
“None,” Alex grumps, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets. “I don’t need a song book. I’ll share with my girlfriend.”
The group turns to me. It takes me a beat to remember I’m his girlfriend. I raise my hand awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Finley. I’ve never been caroling before, so thanks for including me.”
Anita groans. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The girl’s never caroled before? I’m not showing her the ropes.”
To my surprise, Alex wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s not like this is rocket science. I’ll show her.”
“If it is like rocket science,” one of the men cracks, “then maybe your brother the engineer should be teaching her.”
Alex’s arm tightens around me. “I think I’ve got it,” he says flatly.
I take the pamphlet, relieved to see the songs are printed inside. I recognize every single one—even the obscure ones—but keep it just in case.
“Okay, everyone,” pamphlet lady says, “Let’s head out!”
“Autobots unite!” Mallory cries and Alex snickers.
“I heard that,” an older man mutters as he passes with a glare.
“I meant you to,” she says sweetly, then he cracks a smile despite himself.
“I’m sure there’s an inside joke there,” I whisper, holding back a laugh.
“Years ago, they used to dress up in themes,” Alex says, lighter than I’ve heard him since the airport.
“One year, Fred over there—” he gestures toward the man “—showed up as a Transformer and yelled that. It stuck.” His eyes are bright, and his laugh is easy.
And for a second, I just stare. I’ve never seen him look happier.
There’s no doubt he’s handsome, but when he smiles like that, he seems more approachable. More real.
Which is ridiculous. How can someone look more real? It’s not like he’s a robot. Maybe what I mean is that, for the first time, he looks like someone I could have something in common with.
“Did you dress up?” I ask, my guard slipping a little.
“Yep. We Kings always did family themes. That year I was Woody and Tyler was Buzz. Mallory and Grant got stuck being the aliens from the claw machine.”
Mallory groans. “I’m still bitter about it.”
“I’d love to see photos,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sure Mom will dig out the albums,” Alex warns, grinning.
“Yep,” Mallory sighs. “She likes you. You’re doomed.”
Valerie waves from the door. “Okay, troublemakers. Let’s get this show on the road.”
We all grin at being called troublemakers, and a mischievous glint sparks in Alex’s eyes, like he feels obligated to live up to it.
We spill out into the cold. Mallory giggles ahead of me, and Alex’s hand brushes against the small of my back as he guides me through the doorway.
Maybe it’s the afterglow of seeing him so happy, but I feel a quiet rush of anticipation wash through me.
For a few seconds, this feels right—like I’m supposed to be here, with him.
You’re being ridiculous. Didn’t I just tell myself not to fall for this?
Martha instructs us to pair off and walk two by two toward the center of the square, singing “Silent Night”. She starts, and everyone else joins in. Their voices are so perfectly blended, I expect a record executive to appear out of nowhere and offer them a record deal.
But I stop dead in my tracks, my gaze sweeping over the square.
The ground is paved in herringbone-patterned stones that glisten with a dusting of snow.
Gas lamps line the sidewalks, each pole decked with wreaths, giant candy canes, Santas and reindeer.
To one side, an outdoor skating rink hums with laughter from the dozen or so skaters.
At the far end of the square, stands a small shack with a lit-up sign labeled Santa’s Workshop.
If I squint, I swear I see the reindeer Alex told me about in a pen beside it.
Near the rink, a towering Christmas tree sparkles with hundreds of twinkling lights as snow drifts softly down.
It's breathtaking. Magical.
“Is it everything you’d hoped it would be?” Alex asks quietly beside me.
I look up at him, tears stinging my eyes. “It’s more.”
A soft smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Good. You deserve it.”
I glance around quickly—the choir, including Mallory and their mother, is a good twenty feet ahead of us. Which means there’s no audience to perform for.
“Was that real or pretend?” I ask softly.
Confusion flickers across his face. “What?”
“I know that part of what we’re doing for the next ten days is an act, but I need to know what’s real.”
He stares down at me, his breath misting in the cold “It’s real, Finley. You do deserve it. I had no idea what your life was like—your mom, the debt, working two jobs, and going to school?” Frustration fills his eyes. “I wish I’d known sooner.”
And if he’d known sooner? What difference would it have made? But I don’t want to get into that.
“Don’t.” I shake my head, my voice low. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“Feel sorry for you?” His brows lift, genuinely surprised. “Sure, I feel bad that your life’s been hard, but mostly I’m… impressed. In awe, honestly.”
I blink up at him, caught off guard.
He draws in a slow breath. “Don’t worry. I’m not hitting on you. I just meant what I said. I’m glad you’re getting something out of this too.”
Warmth and doubt twist inside me. His words feel real—too real—but after everything he said earlier, I can’t help wondering if this is just another layer of the act. Maybe he’s only trying to smooth things over, damage control after the way he made me feel.
I force a grin and gesture to the group. “I’m pretty sure I just crashed the wrong choir. They’re really good.”
Disappointment flickers in his eyes so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it. “Has it always been your dream to go Christmas caroling?”
I consider lying, but I already feel guilty enough about deceiving his family, and with everything blurring between real and pretend, I’m not adding to the pile. “Yeah.”
His face lights up. “Then, you’re caroling. You’re getting the full Hollybrook experience.”
His grin does funny things to my stomach.
But then he keeps looking at me, his smile fading. He lifts his hands, draping them over my shoulders. My breath catches. When he leans in a little more, and my pulse jumps.
Is he going to kiss me?
Am I going to let him?
I should stop him, but I’m frozen—lost in his deep brown eyes, softer than I’ve ever seen them. They’re like a whirlpool, pulling me under.
But I can’t forget whirlpools are dangerous.
What is this pull I feel? I shouldn’t feel anything. How pathetic is it to be attracted to a man who thinks he’s better than me?
But if he meant what he said…
He leans closer, close enough I can feel his breath across my cheek—and just when I’m about to close my eyes, he reaches up and tugs my knit hat down over my ears.
Heat floods my face.
What am I doing? I’m falling for the Alex King charm.
“Hey!” I swat at one of his hands, trying to salvage a scrap of dignity. Does he realize I thought he was going to kiss me? Worse—does he know I probably would have let him?
He drops his hands to his sides like my hat burned him. “Can’t have your ears getting frostbite. It’s about ten degrees tonight, and you’re a delicate southern flower.”
I arch a brow, still feeling like an idiot. “Delicate?”
“Fine, you’re a sturdy palm tree. But either way, if you get too cold, we’ll head home for hot cocoa. Promise me you’ll tell me.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, glancing up at the choir. They’re already near the center of the square. “We better catch up. I don’t want to get on Anita’s bad side.”
He laughs, but it sounds a little forced. “Everyone is on Anita’s bad side. The best you can hope for is neutral territory.”
Still, he slides his arm around my back as we walk toward the group.
It’s just for show.
I’m still mortified I thought he was going to kiss me, but I try to focus on the positive—he’s being playful. Maybe it’s pretend, but it’s better than the distance and animosity that’s been between us since the car ride to his parents’ house. I need to hold onto that.
The choir is gathered in front of a ridiculous bronze statue of two Revolutionary soldiers, frozen in mid-argument—one clutching a musket, the other awkwardly holding a pumpkin.
Fresh Christmas wreaths hang around both their necks.
I’m sure there’s a story there. I plan to ask Valerie about it later.
If she’s an archivist at the historical society, she seems to be the most likely person to know it.
The carolers are belting out the second verse of “Silent Night” with some amazing harmonizing. Fred scowls as we move to the back of the group.
Alex starts singing and my jaw nearly drops. His voice is rich and strong. I can carry a tune, sure, but no one’s inviting me to audition for any girl bands.
By the time we finish “Silent Night” and launch into “O Come, All Ye Faithful”, a small crowd has gathered, dropping money into a basket I hadn’t noticed.
We carol down the block to a hotel, stopping in front of that hotel, then another, our voices trailing through the streets and echoing off the buildings.
Guests crack open their windows to listen, and people gather on the sidewalks.
For the first time in ages, warmth bubbles in my chest brighter than the twinkle lights strung across the square.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.
And then Alex goes and ruins it.