Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finley
I’m trying to forget about that ornament. I mean it’s just a painted piece of glass, albeit a very expensive piece of glass, but it looked so much like Mom’s…
But I can’t afford it. Not with all the gifts I’m purchasing.
And even if I wasn’t buying Alex’s family gifts, I could never justify the price.
Besides, Christmas isn’t just about the trimmings of the holiday; it’s the spirit of giving, and Alex’s family has been so welcoming that I want to give them something in return.
Alex is fully on board with the gift purchasing, but after his phone call, something seems off.
I want to ask him if everything’s okay, but I’m not sure he’d appreciate me asking.
So, we spend the next hour or so buying presents and finding small stocking stuffers.
The only thing we haven’t found are stockings that fit my meager budget.
When Alex realizes what’s holding me up, he insists he’s paying for them himself.
“I’m the one who came up with the idea. You shouldn’t be the one to buy them.”
“For God’s sake, Finley,” he says. “They’re my family. Why would I expect you to pay for their stockings?” He pulls stockings from a stack, then realizes there are different styles. “Which ones do you like?”
There isn’t much difference between them other than color. “Let’s get red for your mom and your sister, and green for you and the guys.” I hand him three red to include Eloise, and four green.
He gives me a long look, then grabs another red one and heads to the register.
“Wait. You can’t get me a stocking,” I insist. “I’m not a member of the family.”
He frowns in confusion. “But you got one for Grant’s girlfriend.”
“But she’s his actual girlfriend, and she’s been around long enough for everyone to know her.”
“And you’ve been around long enough for my entire family to love you,” he says with a laugh.
“You’re more a member of my family than I am at this point.
When we ‘break up’”—he uses air quotes with his free hand—“I suspect they’ll insist on keeping you.
” When he sees my stricken face, he taps my nose.
“Hey, don’t look so upset. I’m only partly teasing, and besides, aren’t Christmas stockings part of the whole Christmas package? I can’t go cheaping out on you now.”
“You’re not cheaping out on me,” I say. “I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and this whole experience is even better than I dreamed of.”
His face softens and he studies me for several seconds. “I can’t believe you get so excited over this stuff.”
I start to take it as an insult, but I realize it’s not one. He truly doesn’t understand it.
“You lost your spirit of Christmas.”
Alex makes a face. “I’m not sure I ever had it to begin with.
I just took this place for granted.” He stares at me for a few more seconds then takes the stockings up to the register.
I feel terrible when I see the total. They cost too much.
I should have looked for cheaper ones somewhere else.
But he doesn’t bat an eye at the price, and when the clerk asks if he wants names embroidered on the cuffs, he shoots me a grin and says, “Well, of course.”
“It’s too late to get them embroidered today,” the woman says apologetically. “But if you don’t mind coming back, you can pick them up tomorrow any time after noon, but before we close at five.”
Alex glances over at me. “Are we okay with that?”
“Yeah, of course.” I lean closer, “But it’s too much.”
“They have to have names, and I refuse to use glue and glitter.” He shudders at the thought.
I lift a brow. “Bad experience with glitter?”
“Let’s just say Mallory was addicted to it at one point, and Grant convinced her to glue a bunch of glitter onto something while sitting on my bed.” He laughs, then tells the vendor how to spell our names.
I watch him, reveling in the moment. I feel guilty that he just spent nearly a couple hundred dollars on stockings, but he doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he seems lighter and happier than I’ve ever seen him. Like, maybe thinking of things to get his family agrees with him?
After the vendor hands him the receipt, we walk out of the stall and search the crowd for Mallory.
She caught up with us not too long after my call with Barb, more subdued than she’d been before.
When I asked her if she was okay, she said her reunion with her friend hadn’t been as cheerful as she’d hoped, but she was better after finding me.
I was worried we’d have a hard time getting the gifts with her around—I don’t want her to know we’re shopping for her and her family—but she keeps wandering off on her own, giving us plenty of opportunity to make our purchases.
A grin spreads across Alex’s face. “I think we need a Christmas market snack.”
My stomach rumbles at the mention of snacks. “I wouldn’t say no to food.”
He sees Mallory and beckons her over.
“Why do you two look like you’re up to no good?” She’s grinning and studying us as though she can figure it out.
“I wouldn’t call getting something to eat being up to no good,” Alex says.
She nods in approval. “I’m always on board for food. There’s a potato cake booth that way,” she says, pointing behind her.
“I have something else in mind,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “I think Fin will love it.”
“Should we see if Tyler wants to join us?” I ask.
Mallory makes a face. “He sent me a text about ten minutes ago that he left.”
“Figures,” Alex says with a grunt.
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Mallory says. “Now that you’ve mentioned food, I’m starving. Lead us to the place you think Fin will love.”
Alex transfers the packages to his left hand, then takes my hand in his right and leads me through the crowd.
I nearly stumble, shocked by the contact.
We’ve linked arms and wrapped arms around each other at various times to look like a couple, but we haven’t held hands.
Maybe because it feels…intimate. Which is ridiculous—they’re just hands.
Not lips or…other body parts. But then my mind supplies images of what else Alex’s hands could do, and I quickly shut it down.
Not quickly enough, though. The thought leaves me breathless and tingly.
It’s pathetic to lust after a man who has no sexual interest in me. This is all just for show, but my body’s reacting as though it’s real.
Which makes me wonder if this is smart. But as I fall into step beside him, it strikes me again how right it feels.
It’s pretend, Finley.
I shove the thought down deep and decide to stop questioning it all. Mom’s deathbed request was for me to take risks. What could be riskier than risking my heart?
Oh, Finley. You’re quite the fool.
But I ignore my inner voice and let myself get lost in the moment. Whatever happens, at least I’ll have this—a magical day in a winter wonderland. Whether I’ll escape with my heart intact remains to be seen.
Alex leads us a couple of blocks to the square where we started caroling last night, then stops in front of a café that looks like it belongs in a Swiss Alps village, not a Vermont town square.
Sure, all the buildings here look that way, but this one looks even more authentic with its ancient-looking wooden beams and sidewalk seating.
People are sitting outdoors despite the cold, warmed by the gas heaters that are scattered around.
Alex finds a table with a good view of the square, close to a heater.
He holds out a chair for me, then sits next to me, while Mallory sits next to her brother.
“I thought you might like to people-watch,” he says to me, then points across the square. “Especially since the skating rink is right over there.”
We hadn’t spent much time by the rink last night, so I’d barely registered it, but now I can see people gliding across the ice.
“We should go ice skating tomorrow,” Alex says.
I glance back at him, barely containing myself. “Really?”
“Sure, we have to come back to pick up our special project tomorrow anyway.” He winks at me. “And it’s part of the whole Christmas experience, right?”
My excitement is short-lived. “I don’t know how to ice skate. I’ve never been.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll teach you.” Then he catches the attention of a waitress and beckons her over.
“Alex used to play hockey,” Mallory says. “He was the one who taught me how to ice skate. You’ll be safe.”
Is that why Alex has a photo of the two of them together on the same rink across the square?
When the waitress appears, Alex tells her he already knows what he wants to order, then lists off a bunch of names I don’t recognize but that sound German. The only thing I understand is when he orders Nutella and banana crepes and a pretzel.
The waitress writes it all down, then looks at the three of us. “Are you expecting more people?”
Mallory laughs. “No, just us.”
The waitress narrows her eyes. “You do know this is probably enough to feed at least six or seven people.”
“I know,” Alex says. “But this is my girlfriend’s first time here and I want her to try everything.”
My breath catches. I’m still not used to him calling me his girlfriend, but it’s the fact that he’s ordering so much food that has me flabbergasted. “You don’t have to do that, Alex!”
“I know,” he says, turning back to smile at me. “I want to.”
Shaking her head and muttering something about fools in love, the waitress heads back into the café.
“Are you trying to put her into a food coma?” Mallory asks with a laugh.
He raises his brow. “Maybe I’m trying to put you both into a food coma, so I’ll get a moment of peace.”
He and Mallory rib each other for several minutes until the waitress returns with three steaming mugs and glasses of water. Once she places them on the table and walks away, Alex picks up the mug in front of him. “Mulled wine. I think you’ll like it.”
We all take a sip, and as the warm beverage hits my tongue, I can’t help the tiny groan of pleasure that escapes.
“If she’s that excited about the wine, I can’t wait to see her try the gingerbread,” Mallory says, then winks at Alex. “And thanks for the wine.”
He frowns. “Don’t tell Mom.”
“Gingerbread?” I ask, more excited than I have a right to be over a baked good.
Alex looks at me like he’s in a stupor, but he shakes it off and says, “German gingerbread. And plenty of other things too.”
The food comes out about ten minutes later, and the dishes cover the table.
Alex and Mallory point everything out, using their German names, and then explain what they are in English.
I try sausages, and several potato dishes—including potato pancakes, fried apple rings, a pretzel, the crepe, and even corn on the cob, which Mallory insists is a legitimate German Christmas market food.
I try some of everything until I’m stuffed.
When we’ve all eaten our fill, Mallory says, “When Mom gets mad because we barely touch our dinner, I’m blaming you, Alex.”
He laughs. “I don’t remember anyone forcing you to eat half that pretzel.”
“Peer pressure,” she says.
“Riiiight.”
I’ve had a full cup of mulled wine, and most of Alex’s. He only took a sip or two and gave the rest to me when he saw I’d finished mine. I’m slightly tipsy, and warm inside. “Thank you, both,” I say, feeling emotional. “Thank you for making this an amazing Christmas.”
“Girl, it’s not even Christmas yet,” Mallory scoffs, but I can see she’s emotional too. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I can’t wait.”
Alex pays the bill, and we gather all our packages—including the leftover food—and walk to Mallory’s car.
Alex insists I sit in front again, and I wonder if he’s about to say he’s not riding with us like he did earlier, but he gets in the backseat and is quiet all the way home.
Mallory makes up for his silence, telling me about growing up in Hollybrook, and how she worked at the Christmas market when she was a teenager, and during her first two years of college over winter break.
When we walk into the kitchen, Valerie is peeling potatoes in front of the kitchen sink.
“We’re having meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner,” she says as we drop our packages on the floor and take off our coats. “I hope you guys are hungry.”
Alex and Mallory laugh, and she narrows her eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” they mutter, but I say, “Alex took us to a café on the square so I could try a bunch of Christmas market food.”
“You took her to the AlpenGlanz Café?” she asks in surprise. I’m worried she’s going to be irritated, but she looks pleased. “What did you have, Finley?”
I’m not sure telling her I had a bite of everything is a great idea, so I tell her my favorites. “I loved the mulled wine and potato pancakes. Oh, and gingerbread.”
“Good choices,” she says, then looks around at the food on the counter. “Maybe I should hold dinner for a bit.”
“No need,” Alex says. “We’ll be hungry by dinner time.”
I hand the bags in my hands to Alex. “Can you take these up to our room?”
“Sure,” he says, looking confused.
But I’m already halfway to the sink and take the peeler out of Valerie’s hand. “Let me do that.”
She seems reluctant at first, then hands it over as well as the half-peeled potato in her hand. “If you insist,” she says in a teasing tone.
“Alex and I will be down in a few minutes to help,” Mallory says, and then they both head upstairs.
“How did you work that miracle?” Valerie asks in amazement as she walks to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine.
“What miracle?”
“Getting those two to volunteer to help.”
I shrug. “I didn’t do anything. Maybe they want to be part of the fun.”
She makes a puzzled face, then pours wine into two glasses and sets one on the counter next to the potatoes. “Well, whatever you did, thank you. I haven’t seen Mallory and Alex get along like that since…” She frowns as her voice trails off. “Anyway, it’s nice to see them getting along.”
“Maybe it’s the magic of Christmas,” I say as I rinse off the potato I’ve just peeled and set it on a cutting board with the others.
“More like the magic of Finley,” she says before taking a sip, lost in thought.