Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Alex
I’m still not sure what I did to piss Finley off.
Was it me bringing up my conversation with Roland again?
Or suggesting I’d ask her to bake me cookies?
Maybe both? Finley’s right. She’s not the pushover I thought, although I never thought of it as an insult.
More that she’d be a go-with-the-flow kind of woman.
Not that I’ll ever cop to that either. I’m not entirely stupid when it comes to women.
The jury’s out on the percentage of stupidity though.
When I slipped my arm around Finley, I half-expected her to slap it away. But it was the perfect chance to convince Tyler our relationship is real. We were already “scheming”—her word, not mine—so holding her close as a show of unity felt like a natural step.
I’ve never been big on public displays with my past girlfriends, but with Finley it feels…
weirdly right. And when she slid her arm around me, a warmth spread through me like drinking a fine whiskey in front of a fire.
I attribute it to the civil conversation I was having with my brother and sister, the first in years.
But I’d be lying if I said Finley wasn’t part of it too.
We’ve been at the market for an hour, but we only got our spiked coffees about ten minutes ago—delayed every few feet by something Finley wanted to check out. And Mallory won out in the end when Tyler got her a spiked coffee, much to her delight.
Now we’re sitting at a picnic table, sipping our drinks while she peppers Tyler and Mallory with questions about their hobbies, our parents, even Grant.
She makes it seem like causal curiosity, but I know she’s compiling a mental list of “perfect gifts.” Then it hits me—she does the same thing with the customers at Beans to Go, asking about their lives and actually remembering all the little details.
Is that calculated—just good customer service—or does she really care?
Finley takes a sip of her spiked peppermint mocha and says, “So, tell me about Eloise.”
Mallory and Tyler go conspicuously silent.
Finley winces. “Sorry if that was out of line. Maybe you haven’t had a chance to get to know her very well.”
Mallory glances at Tyler. He gives her a questioning look, then shrugs.
“You weren’t out of line,” Mallory finally says. “It’s more like we’re trying to be nice.”
Finley’s eyes widen. “Oh. I didn’t mean to start something.”
“Don’t apologize,” Mallory says. “We’re sorry Grant has shitty taste in women.”
“To be fair,” Tyler says, setting his coffee cup on the table, “so did Alex until Finley showed up.”
“Hey!” I protest, but strangely, I’m not insulted.
“Finley must have picked you for some unknown reason,” Tyler goes on dryly. “Because I know you picked the others. And they were—” He cuts himself off, seems to consider his words, then says, “Let’s just say they were as bad as Eloise.”
“What makes Eloise so bad?” Finley asks, ignoring that he lumped my exes in with Grant’s girlfriend. Out of loyalty or because she really doesn’t care? I suspect the latter—especially since she’s insistent this remain platonic.
Maybe I assume the latter because I don’t expect loyalty unless it’s demanded by a legal contract.
Finley and I do have a contract, but there aren’t any clauses about loyalty.
Then again, I doubt Finley would knowingly be mean to anyone, me included.
Maybe she thinks bringing up my exes could be painful.
Is it weird that it isn’t?
Mallory turns to Tyler. “If we’re going to tell her about Eloise, where do we start?”
“We could start with the complaining,” he says with a look of distaste. “I don’t think anything makes her happy.”
“I think complaining makes her happy,” Mallory counters.
Tyler tips his cup to her. “Fair point.”
“She even complains about Mom’s cooking,” Mallory adds.
“What?” Finley cries out in horror. “No!”
Mallory smirks at me. “So did one of Alex’s exes. What was her name?” She turns to me. “The girl you dated your last couple years of college?”
My heart slams into my ribcage and a cold sweat breaks out at the nape of my neck.
“Debbie,” Tyler says.
“That’s not it,” Mallory dismisses the name with a wave.
I tell myself to calm down. That they don’t know anything about what happened, and Deidre did complain about Mom’s cooking.
“Come on, Alex,” Mallory presses. “What was her name?”
“Deidre,” I force out, pretending to be disgusted. But my stomach is churning, and it’s not from my lingering hangover.
I’ve buried all that shit in the past, yet the mere mention of her name is enough to rattle me. To be fair, I’ve been skirting around the incident, as my dad calls it, ever since I got here.
“Okay, enough about Alex’s exes,” Finley says, slipping her hand around my arm and giving it a squeeze. “No girl wants to know the ugly details about the women who preceded her.”
“I do,” Mallory says.
Finley laughs. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. But I still don’t know what to expect from Eloise other than she probably won’t be happy.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Tyler deadpans. “Just stay out of her way and don’t make eye contact and you should be fine.”
Finley shakes her head, smiling. “Surely there’s something redeeming about her otherwise, or why else would your brother be dating her?”
“Sex,” Tyler says flatly. “Grant claims he’s never had better.” He cuts me a dry look. “I always figured the same about your exes.”
My back stiffens, and that protectiveness returns. Especially after Finley overheard that video call with Roland. I don’t want her forced to sit through a talk about my sexual history.
“Hey!” I snap. “That’s enough. Finley already said she doesn’t want to hear about my exes.”
A sheepish look covers Tyler’s face. “Sorry, Finley. He’s right.”
I stare at him. Genuine apologies don’t come easily to my older brother, and there’s no doubt this one is sincere.
“It’s fine. I’m not naive enough to think Alex walked into my life a virgin,” Finley says with a smile. But I’m learning Finley O’Brien’s body language, and I know this smile is forced.
“I’ll say,” Mallory mutters with a fake cough.
Finley shakes her head and I’m relieved when her smile becomes more natural.
“Maybe we should start shopping again,” I suggest. “We’ve only seen half the market and Mallory has at least a dozen more purchases in her before she begs Tyler or me to carry her bags.”
Finley looks up at me, her eyes twinkling. “If you were a good brother, she wouldn’t need to ask.”
I laugh and clutch my chest in mock injury. “Ouch.”
“Oh!” Mallory declares. “That cinched it. I love her.”
Tyler grumbles under his breath, but as we stand, he quietly grabs a couple of Mallory’s bags. Finley gives me a pointed look, and I reach across the table and wiggle my fingers at my sister.
Mallory laughs and hands me a large bag, satisfaction written all over her face.
“Why are you only giving him one?” Tyler asks.
“Finley still hasn’t gotten anything yet,” she says with an impish gleam. “I need to make sure Alex has a free hand to hold her bags when she does.”
Tyler lifts a brow. “Maybe Finley’s just looking and not planning to buy anything.”
“Oh, I’m definitely buying,” Finley says. “But I want to see everything first, then go back and get what I want.”
She’s not kidding. She’s already spotted gifts for everyone in my family with the exception of Eloise and my father, and she’s helped me come up with ideas for mine. She’s also plotting stockings and stocking stuffers to make my gift cards less pathetic.
“Well, thank goodness,” Mallory says, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow. “I need you to start buying things soon or I’m going to look like a shopaholic.”
“If the shoe fits…” Tyler says dryly.
“Hey!” Mallory shoots back, jabbing a finger at him. “I’ll have you know I haven’t bought any shoes.”
He gives her a look. “It wasn’t literal.”
She flips him off, then snags Finley’s arm and drags her away from us to the next stall, the two of them laughing like they’ve been friends for years.
Tyler and I follow. The tension between us is less strained, but he’s still on edge.
The girls duck into a handblown glass ornament booth. Mallory drops her hold on Finley’s arm and is asking the vendor a question about how they’re made.
I hang back, watching Finley like a stalker as she studies the glass ornaments covering a three-foot-tall Christmas tree on a table.
I can’t seem to help myself. There’s something so pure about her that has me mesmerized.
I’m enthralled by the look of delight on her face as she lightly touches the ornaments.
A feeling I don’t understand sweeps over me.
There’s nothing sexual about it—she’s looking at reindeer and Santas and snowmen—yet I’m filled with yearning.
But for what?
Finley?
I’ve already acknowledged she’s beautiful, but this isn’t about her physical beauty. Finley isn’t a fun roll in the sheets. She’s end game. The kind of woman you build a life with.
But not for someone like me.
Funny how yesterday I thought I was too good for her. Now I realize she’s too good for me.
The realization fills me with sadness and regret.
I’m about to turn away, but she suddenly stills.
The joy bleeds from her face as she lifts a Santa-head ornament from the tree.
Her fingertip gently traces the features.
Longing fills her eyes, and her chin trembles.
She flips over the price tag, and her face pales.
Her eyes flood with tears and she carefully puts it back.
What just happened?
She turns and finds me already in her path. The devastation in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees, and the urge to fix this for her is overwhelming.
“What just happened?” I ask quietly, my throat tight. But I already know. It’s out of her budget. Still, why does she want it so badly?
She blinks up at me in surprise. “What?”