Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finley
True to Mallory’s word, she and Alex come down and help finish dinner.
When the meatloaf is in the oven and the green beans and potatoes are on the stove, we sit around the table, sipping wine while they tell stories about Alex and his siblings when they were kids.
Tyler joins us after a bit, grabbing a bottle of beer and sitting at the table, but he’s reserved and doesn’t share much.
Around six-thirty, Alex’s dad comes home and apologizes for being late. “Sick cat,” he says. “It ate a miniature snowman from a kid’s advent calendar, but it’s going to be okay.”
“What’s Finley’s cat’s name, Alex?” Tyler asks abruptly.
Alex looks like he’s been caught red-handed robbing a jewelry store, but then he gets pissed. “What the hell, Tyler? I thought we were over that.”
“Boys,” Valerie says, sounding more tired than angry. “What are you talking about, Alex?”
Alex starts to say something, then clams up.
“For some reason, Tyler didn’t believe Finley was his girlfriend,” Mallory says, rolling her eyes. “But anyone with a pair of eyes can see that she is.”
“Oh, I believe they’re together,” Tyler says, “but I have no doubt he only thinks about himself. Which is why I’m asking if he knows the name of her cat.”
“Tyler!” his mother chastises. “What has gotten into you?”
“Answer the question, Alex,” Tyler taunts. “Can’t do it, can you?”
Alex looks at me, maybe because he knows I don’t want to lie about my life, and he knows Maybelle is important to me—even if he doesn’t know her name. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to make one up.
“That’s because he doesn’t call her by her name,” I say, trying to sound light-hearted. “He gave her a nickname the first time he met her, and he’s used it ever since.”
“Then what do you call her?” Tyler asks.
“Hellfire,” Alex says, holding his gaze. “She’s grumpy as hell, but when she gets pissed, she brings the fire.”
I laugh, because I’m pretty sure I never told him Maybelle’s name, but he remembers me talking about her. “It’s a pretty accurate description. Especially since she doesn’t take to new people very well.”
Tyler takes a long pull from his beer.
“You owe Alex an apology, Tyler,” Valerie says, still fuming.
“That’s okay,” Alex says, while giving his brother a long, appraising look. “I think he’s just looking out for Finley.”
“What does that have to do with Finley?” Valerie asks.
Alex gives her a smile. “Basically, he thinks I’m a first-class asshole and he wants to make sure I’m treating her right.”
“Tyler!” his mom protests.
“No,” Alex says, “I deserve it. I come by the title naturally, so…” He shrugs.
Valerie inhales deeply and is about to say something, but Tyler gets up and stalks out of the room, taking his beer with him.
Alex’s dad is still standing by the mudroom with a dazed expression. “Sounds like I missed an eventful day.”
Tyler doesn’t come back. He texts his mother that he’s meeting friends for dinner and forgot to mention it.
I feel terrible, like my presence here has driven Alex’s brother out of his own home at Christmas, but I’m not sure what to do about it.
Tyler must be perceptive, and the truth is, he’s right.
It seems unfair that he’s being punished for it.
The meatloaf is delicious, but Mallory, Alex, and I are still pretty full from our afternoon smorgasbord, so we don’t put much of a dent in the food.
At the beginning of dinner, everyone is subdued after Tyler and Alex’s confrontation, but soon they get back to the jovial spirit they had earlier, and even the quiet Dr. Bob is more talkative than he was the night before.
We’re halfway through the meal when Valerie gasps. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Aunt Jean called this afternoon. She and her grandkids aren’t coming for Christmas after all.”
“What?” Alex asks in shock. Mallory and Dr. Bob give shouts of gratitude.
I turn to look at Alex, my heart pounding. One of the reasons he invited me was so he didn’t have to sleep in the rec room with his younger cousins. If they aren’t coming…
“No terror triplets?” Mallory asks hopefully.
Valerie releases a labored sigh. “Mallory, I’ve told you time and time again not to call them that.”
“Yeah, but it’s true,” she counters.
“But they’re not actual triplets,” Valerie says. “They were all born separately, even if it was just a year apart.”
Mischief dances in Mallory’s eyes. “But you’re admitting that they’re terrors?”
Valerie’s eyes widen as though she’s been caught. “I never said they were terrors.” Then her face scrunches up as she closes her eyes. “But I never said they weren’t either.”
Mallory bursts out laughing, but I’m looking at Alex, trying to gauge his reaction—the fact that they aren’t coming. I already know he thinks they’re terrors.
He catches my gaze and smiles. “You’re quite the good luck charm, Fin. Your perfect Christmas is giving us one too.”
Relief washes through me, and I’m surprised when he reaches over and cups my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m sure Grant and Eloise will be thrilled to hear it,” Alex’s dad says. “He was none too happy about sleeping on the sofa bed, let alone with the terror triplets.”
“Bob,” Valerie gasps. “You too?”
He shrugs and picks up his water glass. “I call ’em as I see ’em, Val.”
She shakes her head, then laughs.
We clean up dinner—everyone pitching in. We discuss what to do after dinner and Mallory suggests we watch a Christmas movie. After Alex and his parents agree, they settle on Christmas Vacation, in honor of dodging the terror triplets.
When we walk into the living room, I stop short.
I haven’t been in this room yet, and I gasp when I see the Christmas tree.
It’s massive, nearly touching the top of the twelve-foot ceiling and more than half as wide.
Not only is it huge, but it’s also a real tree, and the pine scent fills the room.
I’d smelled pine this morning, but I thought it was a candle or a diffuser.
The tree is covered in white lights and layers and layers of ornaments.
I can’t imagine how many boxes it takes to pack them all away.
I walk over to the tree and study the ornaments, admiring the mix of vintage and new.
“A lot of them have been passed down through three generations,” Dr. Bob says as he stands next to me. “Val gets the kids a new ornament every year, so the tree is packed.”
“Probably too many ornaments,” Valerie says as she snuggles onto the sofa with a blanket, a freshly poured glass of wine on the table next to her. “Every year I say I’m going to get a smaller tree, but…” She waves toward the tree. “As you can see, I haven’t followed through yet.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say with a sigh.
Alex moves up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. Without thinking, I reach up and cover his hand with my own, overwhelmed with emotion. The warmth of his family, today at the market, this moment—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
Alex turns me around and pulls me to his chest, engulfing me in a hug.
“I’m sorry about the ornament,” he whispers in my ear. “I wish I’d gotten it for you.”
I look up at him in surprise, then shake my head. “Alex, no! I didn’t expect that.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as he studies me. “I know, but I hate seeing you sad.”
Is this for show because his family is watching? It feels real, so I’m going to let myself believe it is. “I’m not sad,” I say as a tear falls down my cheek. “I’m happy.”
“You cry when you’re happy?” he asks in disbelief.
“It’s what we girls do,” Mallory calls out from across the room.
I bury my face in his chest and release a short laugh of embarrassment.
“Come on, love birds,” Mallory says. “You can be all cute and lovey later, but right now, I want to watch a squirrel jump out of a Christmas tree.”
Alex gives me a squeeze, then kisses the top of my head before he releases me.
To my surprise, he takes my hand and leads me to a love seat.
We sit down together, and he wraps an arm around me, tugging me into his side.
I curl up next to him as he tosses a blanket over my legs, and I rest my head against his chest, our hips pressed together.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
Alex is not my boyfriend. His family is not my family. This isn’t my Christmas. I’m an interloper.
We watch the movie while a fire roars in the fireplace, the only light in the room coming from the tree and the television.
It’s all so perfect. The family Christmas I’ve always dreamed of.
I push down the fear that I’ll be destroyed when it’s over.
But there’s no backing out now. I signed a contract.
When the movie’s over, Mallory wants to watch The Santa Clause. I’m on board, and Alex agrees, but his parents bid us goodnight and head upstairs.
It’s after eleven when the second movie’s over. Mallory tells us she’s going to bed, leaving the two of us on the love seat.
We sit in silence, watching the fire with the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner.
Alex still has his arm around me, and I’m snuggled into his side, our feet next to each other on an ottoman.
There’s no one to convince right now—it’s just us—and I know I should move away from him, but I want to enjoy the illusion for a few minutes more.
Finally, Alex shifts slightly and whispers, “We should discuss the sleeping arrangement for tonight. I can sleep in the chair—”
“No,” I say quickly. “The whole point of this was so you could sleep in your bed. You gave me a perfect day, the least I can do is give you the bed.”
He shifts and looks at me, emotion brewing in his eyes. “Finley, absolutely not. There’s no way you’re sleeping in the chair again.”