Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alex
I’m still too stunned by his announcement to let his anger sink in.
Eloise didn’t come.
I brought Finley for nothing?
Horror flashes across Mom’s face. “Grant! You’re being rude!”
“Why?” he shoots back sarcastically. “Because I’m calling Alex on his shit?”
Her gaze sharpens, her voice deadly calm. “You’re being inexcusably rude to our guest.”
Grant’s glare swings to Finley, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
My fists clench at my sides before I even register the movement.
Rationally, I know he’d never lay a hand on her.
But reason doesn’t matter. Every instinct in me is coiled, ready to step between them without a second thought.
“Aw,” Grant says with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The infamous Finley.”
“Grant!” Mallory gasps.
I feel Finley shrink behind me. I expected Grant to be pissed, but I never thought he’d go after her. If I’d had any inkling, I would’ve told her to stay upstairs while I deal with his attitude.
I slide an arm around her waist, snuggling her into my side, and force myself to meet his accusation head-on. “Breaking up with your girlfriend has nothing to do with me—or Finley.” My voice comes out so tight it scrapes my throat.
“I’ll say,” Mallory mutters.
Grant whirls on her, pointing a finger. “Don’t you start.”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s voice cracks through the entryway, sharp and commanding. We all freeze. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
My siblings stay silent, Mallory grimaces at the scolding, but Grant still looks defiant.
“Let’s get your shit out of the car,” Tyler says, striding forward. He slings an arm around Grant’s shoulders and all but drags him out the front door.
Mom looks on the verge of tears. She steps toward us. “Finley, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Finley says sweetly, forcing a smile. “He’s upset about his breakup.”
Mom frowns. “It’s still no excuse.”
“I say good riddance,” Mallory mutters in disgust.
“Mallory,” Mom warns. “You might not like her, but obviously your brother did.”
Mallory makes a face that makes it clear that she thinks Grant’s taste in women sucks, but my focus is on Finley, standing so still she looks like she’s bracing for another hit.
I tug her closer, my arm tightening at her back, and I wrestle with what to do. Should I take her upstairs, away from this mess, and make sure she’s okay? Or stay here and pretend everything’s fine? If I knew her better, maybe I’d know which she’d want.
And then it hits me again—Eloise isn’t here. Which means Grant and I would be sharing the bedroom if I’d never asked Finley to come. Technically, according to our contract, I could let Finley go home. But not tomorrow—on Christmas Day? That would be heartless. The day after?
My heart stutters. The truth is, I don’t want her to leave. At all. I like having her here. She’s been fun, and after the grind of this past year, she’s been a relief. A distraction I didn’t know I needed.
But Mom is still watching Finley, concern etched in her face. “Finley, would you like to help me with dinner?”
Finley glances quickly toward the door, and before she can answer, I cut in. “Can she come down in a bit? We still have a few more presents to wrap.”
“Of course,” Mom says. She hesitates, her voice softening. “I just—”
The front door crashes open, and Grant and Tyler come stomping back in. Grant’s carrying a duffel bag and a shopping bag, while Tyler hefts a large cardboard box full of wrapped presents.
“I’ll just put these presents under the tree.” Tyler carries the gifts to the living room.
“And I guess I’ll head down to the basement,” Grant mutters bitterly, disappearing through the kitchen.
I squeeze Finley’s hand, but she doesn’t look at me. Her gaze follows my brother instead.
“Let’s go finish.” I tug her gently toward the stairs. We walk into my room, and she lets my hand fall. I shut the door behind us, then I watch as she takes the blanket off the gifts, sinks to the floor, and picks up her scissors.
Helplessness gnaws at me. Does she want to talk about what just happened? Pretend it never did? Or not talk at all?
“You need to finish your wrapping,” she says, trying to sound lighthearted, but it misses.
We should have never gone downstairs. We should have stayed up here and finished wrapping. Then she’d be laughing and teasing me about how bad I am instead of—this. She’s not sulking or pouting. She’s just… sad. And it’s tearing me apart.
Frustration builds in my chest, but I lower myself beside her, grasping for a way back to the easy banter we had before. “You’re cheating.”
Her head snaps toward me, her eyes huge.
“We were racing before we got interrupted, and you’ve already started without me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not above cheating,” she says. A grin tugs at her mouth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
God, I hate this. I have to fix it.
“Finley—”
Her mouth twists, pain flashes in her eyes. She shakes her head once. “Please don’t.”
“But—”
She leans over and attacks the paper with quick, furious cuts. “I’m gonna beat you.”
I watch her for a moment longer, then pick up my scissors. I win, of course. But mine looks like I wadded up some wrapping paper and plastered it in tape. Her gift looks like it’s been professionally wrapped.
The irony is, she was wrapping Grant’s present.
When she finishes, she starts gathering scraps of wrapping paper.
“Do you want to hang out up here?” I ask.
She turns to me, pale and stricken. “Okay.”
My breath catches. No! That’s not what I meant.
“It was a question, Finley,” I say, surprised when it sounds pleading. “I’m not telling you to stay up here. I just don’t want you to feel any more uncomfortable than you already are.”
Her eyes glisten, and she says in a shaky voice, “In light of the current situation, I realize that I’m no longer needed here. I think I should go home tomorrow.”
The words gut me because she’s right—she doesn’t have to be here anymore for my little stick-it-to-Grant charade, but the thought of her leaving fills me with panic.
“You don’t have to go,” I try to sound casual. “I mean, Grant and Eloise have broken up more times than I can count. Chances are, she’ll show up in a day or two, and if you go, then I’ll be kicked out.”
Her response is a tight smile.
“Do you want to go?” I ask, then realize it sounds like a passive aggressive way to tell her to go. “For what it’s worth, I want you to stay.”
Her eyes widen slightly, then she gives me a grim smile. “Because Eloise might come.”
Is that why I want her to stay? The excuse is safer than examining the truth. “Yeah,” I say with a casual shrug, then add, “But I understand if you want to leave. I never expected Grant to come at you like that. But I can promise you that Mom won’t let it happen again.”
Her mouth twists as fresh tears flood her eyes. “I really don’t want to cause drama with your family.”
“You’re not,” I say, a sliver of guilt oozing in my chest. She’s not the cause of this drama—that responsibility falls squarely on me.
“Mom and Mallory love you and they’d be crushed if you leave.
Especially on Christmas Day.” I take a breath, and lower my voice, hoping I come across as reassuring.
“But I want you to do what you want to do, Finley. If it’s too uncomfortable to stay, I’ll book the next available flight out of here, but I know Mom and Mal want you to stay.
” My throat tightens. “And I want you to stay too.”
Her gaze drops to the mess on the floor. “In case Eloise shows up,” she murmurs.
That’s not why but I’m not sure she’d stay for just me. Especially if she knows how I really feel about her. So the Eloise excuse is as good as any.
“I’m going to take the presents down and put them under the tree,” I say. “And you can decide what you want to do when I’m done, okay?”
“Yeah.” She returns to her task of cleaning up the bits of paper. “Sounds good.”
I gather the pile of gifts and leave the room. My hands are full, so I leave the door open behind me and head down the front staircase. After stacking the gifts under the tree, I head into the kitchen and find my family gathered around the island.
“What the hell was that?” I snap at Grant. “How dare you talk to my girlfriend like that?”
“How dare you magically come up with a girlfriend in two days,” he shoots back, just as hot.
Mom exhales sharply, and her eyes sink closed.
“Grant.” Dad’s voice cuts like steel. “You will apologize to Finley the moment you see her.”
Grant’s jaw sets, but he stays silent.
“Is Finley still upstairs?” Mallory’s wearing her worried face and wringing her hands.
“Yeah,” I say, weighing how much to say. The last thing I want is to betray Finley’s trust, but they need to prepare for the possible fall out. “She’s thinking about leaving.”
My mother’s eyes fly open as Mallory lets out a horrified, “No!”
“I think I’ve convinced her to stay,” I add quickly. “But I also told her it’s her choice. The last thing I want is for her to feel unwelcome here.”
“Especially on Christmas,” Mom says softly.
Grant’s shoulders ease, his body losing some of its rigid defiance.
“She doesn’t have any other family, you know,” Mallory says, shoving Grant’s arm. “She’s a literal orphan and you’re putting her out on the street on Christmas!”
“I’m doing no such thing!” Grant protests. “I didn’t tell her to leave!”
“You sure made it so she wouldn’t want to stay,” Tyler says. The room goes still as we all stare at him in shock. Tyler almost never wades into family disputes, preferring to watch from the sidelines.
Grant’s brow practically shoots to his hairline.
Tyler shoves his hand in his front pockets. “She’s a sweet woman. She obviously has a serious lack of judgement in men if she’s with Alex—”
“Hey!” I cut in.
“—but she’s good for him. And you treated her like crap.” His gaze could bore holes into Grant.
“How was I supposed to know?” Grant fires back, defensive.
“It’s called manners, Grant.” Mom sighs. “Honestly, you’d think I raised you kids in a zoo.”
“Hey!” Mallory protests.
Mom gives her a gentle smile. “You were raised with the koalas. Sweet and cuddly.”
“And stoned on eucalyptus,” Grant mutters, and Mal shoots him a glare.
Mom’s focus swings back to Grant, her expression hardening. “You will be kind to that girl. And if you aren’t, we’ll take your presents away.”
Outrage spreads across Grant’s face. “I’m not ten years old, Mom.”
“Then stop acting like you are,” Mom counters crisply. She turns to me, her face softening. “What can we do to make Finley feel more comfortable? Make Grant eat dinner out in the garage?”
“Hey!” Grant protests, but she ignores him.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “We agreed I’d bring down the gifts, then she’d decide if she’s coming down.”
“Tell her that I’m making our traditional Christmas Eve dinner,” Mom says. “She loves taking part in our traditions.”
I want to tell her the reason Finley loves taking part in them is because Mom and Mal have gone out of their way to make her feel welcome—and now that’s been threatened. But saying it out loud would just be beating a dead horse. “I’ll tell her.”
I’m about to head back upstairs, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I nearly ignore it, desperate to check on Finley, but her name on the screen stops me cold.
I’m going to call my friends. I’ll let you know when I’m done
A knot tightens in my gut. Will her honorary grandmothers hire assassins to take me out after letting her get hurt? Or worse—will they convince her to come home? I want to go up and make things right, but Barb and Mirna will likely do a better job of comforting her than I can.
What do I know about comforting women?
I text back:
Tell Barb I said I’m doing everything I can to make this right
Then I send:
Mom’s cooking our traditional Christmas Eve dinner, and you’ll never guess what it is. So come down when you’re done. Or if you want me to come up, just say the word
Her only response is a thumbs-up to my last text.
Funny how a girl I barely knew a week ago suddenly feels like the only thing that matters.