Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alex
I lie awake long after I hear Finley’s slow and steady breathing.
I can’t stop thinking about that Christmas ornament and the way she reacted to Mom’s tree.
I’m berating myself for taking Mallory’s word that the ornament was gone.
I should have gone back and checked myself.
But tomorrow I’ll ask Mallory to keep Finley occupied, and I’ll go by the booth and check for myself when I pick up the stockings.
If it’s really not there, I’ll look for something else, because I have to get her something.
Opening gifts is just as much a part of Christmas as giving them, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t have something to open.
But her reaction to the Christmas tree has given me another idea. Finley said she wants to experience as many Christmas activities as possible, so I come up with a plan. We’ll have to postpone ice skating, but I suspect she won’t complain once she realizes what we’re doing.
In the morning, I wake up before Finley does. She’s curled on her side, facing the pillow fortress, a few strands of hair spread across her cheek. I reach over to brush them away, but just before my fingers graze her skin, I pull back.
What the hell am I doing?
I’ve never done anything like that for any other woman.
I’m not the guy who wakes, wanting to touch someone just to touch them.
My relationships have served a purpose, and the women I’ve dated fit a profile.
They got to be with a man projected to make several million off a start-up, and I got a beautiful, successful woman to bring to business dinners. Fair trade.
Sure, it sounds shallow, but six years ago, I learned the hard way that giving your heart away is dangerous—in the literal sense.
Finley doesn’t fit that profile at all.
So, what was I thinking when I almost touched her?
There’s no audience to convince that we’re together.
Maybe it’s because last night felt a little too believable.
Hell, I almost kissed her again when I helped her up from the sofa.
Her body so close to mine, the firelight on her face—she’s so damn beautiful.
And so damn sweet. She’s the kind of woman I never thought I’d want, but she brings out the me I used to be. The me I didn’t realize I missed.
Still, this isn’t real. She’s not interested in a relationship with me—especially after what she’s seen. She’s seen the narcissistic, arrogant side of me here. She’d be crazy to want me too.
God, I do want her, don’t I?
No, I can’t want her. I’m just too deep in the role, that’s all.
So maybe that’s why I planned this morning’s surprise. It’s part of our deal—she gets the Christmas she’s always dreamed of. I’m just making sure she gets what she signed up for.
At least that’s the story I’m sticking to.
I slip out of bed and pause at the door. She’s still curled up, peaceful, her hair spilling over the pillow. Something twists in my chest—something soft and unfamiliar. Tender. Maybe this is how a guy feels about a girl who’s just his friend.
The smell of coffee hits my nose as I walk downstairs to the kitchen. Dad’s sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.
He glances up at me and gives me a tired smile. “You’re up early.”
I head straight for the coffee maker and grab a mug from the cabinet above. “I thought Mom might be up.”
“She’s still sleeping, but I suspect she’ll be down soon.”
I fill my mug, then add creamer. After I put the container back in the fridge, I stand at the counter, my fingers wrapped around the mug, unsure what to do next.
“You can sit with me, Alex,” Dad says quietly, sadness softening his voice. “We can talk.”
I want to sit. God, I do. But being alone with him…. it’s like stepping back into that night six years ago—the night I called him in abject horror and grief.
My chest feels tight, and the walls feel like they’re closing in.
Dad must see that I’m about to bolt, because he turns in his chair to face me, his eyes pleading. “I think we need to talk, son. We’ve gone far too long without discussing—”
I take a step back, a vise clamping my lungs. “I need to take a shower.”
Dad’s shoulders sag, defeat shadowing his face. “I wish you’d talk to me, Alex.” He lifts his chin. “I miss you.”
I miss him too. I miss all of them, but Dad is a living reminder of that night—the night I made the worst mistake of my life.
I’ve stayed away all these years out of shame, terrified my family would uncover the truth.
Time may have dulled the risk of discovery, but the shame hasn’t faded. It’s still there, festering.
Tyler thinks I’ve stayed away because I think I’m too good for them.
The truth is, I’m not good enough—for them or for anyone else
Finley’s face flashes in my mind, the way she looked sleeping this morning—soft, peaceful, unguarded. Someone who still believes the world can be good. Someone who deserves good.
And that’s not me.
“I wanted to ask Mom a question, but I’ll ask her later,” I spin around to bolt for the stairs, but Mom has just walked into the room.
She stares at me and then at Dad, obviously feeling the tension between us. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope,” I say, then lift my mug. “Just came down to get a cup of coffee before I hop in the shower.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s not sure she believes me.
“There is one other thing,” I say, lowering my voice, “Do we have any spare Christmas ornaments?”
Her forehead creases in confusion, then her face lights up when I tell her my plan for Finley. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” she assures me. “Mallory and I will have it under control.”
“Don’t you have things to do to get ready for tonight and tomorrow?” I ask. Then a new thought occurs to me. “Wait. Do you need me and Finley to stick around and help with anything?”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You’re offering to help?”
I wince. “Am I really that much of an asshole?”
“You’re not an asshole, honey,” she says, rubbing my arm. “You’re just usually not here long enough to think about offering.”
AKA I’m a self-centered asshole, but she’s too nice to call me out on it.
“Mom, we can skip this morning, and I can stick around to help.”
“Oh, heavens, no!” she exclaims. “Finley will absolutely love it. I can’t wait to see her face when you get back.”
I take a step toward the stairs, then stop.
“One more thing,” I say. “I need to pick something up at the Christmas market this afternoon. Finley was planning to go with me, but I have another stop to make that I don’t want her to know about.
Can you and Mal keep her occupied, so she doesn’t think I’m up to something? ”
“How very mysterious,” she says with a laugh. “We have more baking to do, and Finley seemed to enjoy that yesterday, so maybe we can convince her to help us.”
My mother’s generosity and eagerness to make this special for Finley makes me love her even more. “Thank you for including her. It really means a lot to her,” I say, my voice thick.
“We love having her,” Mom says. “She’s an absolute delight. And as much as she loves Christmas, well, let’s just say I’m having fun watching her get excited over everything.”
“Yeah.” I think about how excited she was yesterday where nothing was too minor. She loved it all. “I am too.”
She smiles softly as she pats my cheek. “She’s a keeper, Alex. One in a million. Don’t let her get away.”
I feel a moment of panic, but there’s no point freaking out over my family’s inevitable reaction when they hear about our breakup. I’ll deal with it when it happens. “Yeah.”
When I go back into my room to get my things to take into the bathroom, Finley’s eyes peek open.
“Go back to sleep,” I say quietly. “I’m about to take a shower.”
Her gaze lands on the mug in my hand. “What do you have there?”
“Coffee,” I say, then lift it to my lips and take a sip. “The Mr. Coffee kind. My dad made it.”
She sits up and reaches out her arm, wiggling her fingers at me to come closer. I walk to her side of the bed, my heart racing. What does she want?
When I’m next to her, she snatches the mug from my hand and takes a long sip.
Part of me wants to be irritated—that’s my coffee, dammit—but she’s so damn cute I can’t seem to muster it up.
I lift a brow. “We’re at the coffee-sharing stage of our relationship?”
“Drinks and food,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “What’s yours is mine.”
“And you share with me?”
“We haven’t reached that stage just yet.” She takes another sip, then hands the mug to me. “I’ll let you know when we do.”
I can’t help grinning at her.
Good, God. I’m smiling over her saying I have to share my coffee with her, but she doesn’t have to share with me? What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m happy—that’s what’s wrong with me. I don’t understand it, yet I am. And if I’m honest, I haven’t felt this happy in years. I’m not sure what to make of it. Maybe it’s because this is my first real vacation from work in over two years. Or because I’m home with my family for Christmas.
You’re a damn fool if you can’t see that a huge part of it is because of Finley.
The hell it is. Other people can’t make you happy.
Why is it so hard to accept that maybe she is part of the reason I’m happy?
I walk toward the door, but then I remember I need to tell her about our change of plans. Instead of towering over her, I sit at the foot of the bed so we’re at eye level. “I’m switching up the plans for today, but it means we won’t be able to go ice skating today.”
“That’s okay.” The momentary disappointment in her eyes feels like a stab in the heart, but then she gives me a reassuring smile. “I hope you know you don’t have to entertain me. You’re here to be with your family. I can do things on my own.”
“I still plan to take you ice skating,” I say, ignoring her suggestion she can do things on her own. “Just not today, because I came up with something else that I think you might like better, and it’s very time sensitive.”
She studies me for a moment. “Wait. You changed your plans for me?” She asks it like it’s impossible to believe.
“Yeah.” I’m feeling uncomfortable. Will she be upset that I’m going to so much effort?
Am I doing the wrong thing? I consider my plan again, but it doesn’t feel wrong.
It feels very, very right. All I can think about is how excited she’ll be when she discovers what we’re doing.
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t try to make this the most special Christmas ever? ”
She’s quiet for a moment, and her eyes turn shiny. “Oh, Alex. It already is.”
I feel like an asshole, and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it takes so little to make her happy. Maybe because this seems like the bare minimum that a real boyfriend would do, and she acts like no one has ever treated her this well before.
It makes me want to track down all her previous boyfriends and beat the shit out of them for not treating her like the treasure she is.
What the hell?
Treasure?
Of course she’s a treasure. I mean, come on. Look at her, excited over secret plans. For all she knows, I’m taking her to the dump at the edge of town. She’s sweet and adorable. And any man who treated her like shit deserves a beating.
And just because I’m protective of her doesn’t mean I want to sleep with her. I’m protective of my sister too.
Comparing Finley to my sister feels revolting, but I’m not going to analyze that thought. I need to focus.
“Well, I’m glad you think your trip has been perfect, but it’s about to get even better. I’ll shower, then you can get ready. We’ll grab a quick breakfast and head out.” I get up, but she reaches out and steals my mug again.
She looks impish as she takes a long sip, then hands it back. “Thank you, boyfriend.”
I dash out of the room before I do something I’ll regret, because for a split second, I wanted her to call me her boyfriend for real.