Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alex
Mom’s roped all of us into making dinner, but the tension’s so thick I feel like I’m wading through a swamp.
Grant’s still pissed, and I can’t shake the thought that most of his anger isn’t aimed at Finley—it’s at Eloise. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Finley there was a good chance Eloise will show up this week. Grant and Eloise’s relationship has always been a revolving door.
I’m setting the table while Tyler and Grant chop vegetables for a salad.
Dad sits at the island, nursing a drink, while Mom and Mal bustle around the stove.
Finley’s been upstairs for more than a half hour, and though I promised her space, I’m two seconds from going upstairs to check on her when she appears in the doorway.
I take a step toward her, then force myself to stop. “Hey,” I say carefully. “How was your call with your grandmothers?”
“I thought she didn’t have any family,” Grant mutters under his breath.
“They’re her neighbors, asshole,” Tyler snaps before I can.
But the damage is done. The stricken look on Finley’s face is like an ice pick to my chest. Without thinking, I set the stack of plates on the table and cross the room, pulling her into a tight hug.
“How’d your call go?” I whisper against her ear.
“Good,” she says, then pulls back quickly and plasters on a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“We’ve got it covered,” Mom says, casting a long look at her. “You can help Alex finish setting the table, if you like. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“It smells good,” Finley says as she moves toward the table, leaving me to follow.
“Wait until you see what it is,” Mallory teases with a chuckle.
Finley sets out the rest of the plates while I lay down the silverware. Just as we finish, Mom announces dinner’s ready, and she and Mallory carry over several bowls.
Surprise flashes across Finley’s face when she sees what we’re having—macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs, Jell-O salad, and a garden salad.
Mom laughs. “I know. Not a traditional Christmas Eve dinner.”
“It’s all Alex’s fault,” Mallory says. “He had strep throat one year and could only eat soft food. The boys loved it so much they begged Mom to make the same thing the next year.”
“How would you know?” Grant scoffs, setting the salad on the table. “You weren’t even born yet, Maleficent.”
Mallory glares daggers at him.
“She became part of it,” Mom chides gently. “And the tradition’s evolved over the years, but the principle’s the same.”
“Except for the salad,” Dad adds with a grin. “That one was my demand.”
The table fills with small talk, but tension lingers like smoke.
Mom and Mal do their best to keep things light, but Grant’s still brooding, and Finley looks wound tight, like one wrong word will snap her in half.
My chest knots tighter every second. If she was wavering on whether to stay or go, this dinner is likely to push her to leave.
After we’ve cleaned up dinner, Dad declares it’s time for the second Christmas Eve tradition—game night. We all head to the living room, and Mom brings out a Pictionary box, announcing, “Boys against girls.”
Finely and I are sitting on the love seat. Last night, she was curled up against me, but tonight, she’s sitting on the edge of the seat, looking anxious.
I lean into her side and whisper into her ear, “We don’t have to do this. We can go upstairs and watch a movie or even take a walk downtown.”
She looks up at me, her face blank. “But this is a family tradition, Alex,” she whispers back.
“So? It doesn’t mean we need to do this.”
“But you would if I weren’t here.” It’s not a question. We both know it’s true. “I’ll be fine.”
Mom sets out the supplies then declares that the boys can go first since they’re obviously at a disadvantage.
Grant’s brow furrows with confusion. “But we have four guys while you girls have three.”
“Exactly,” Mallory says sweetly, then reaches a hand toward Finley. “Come over here with the girls. No fraternizing with the enemy.”
Finley obeys and finds herself sandwiched between Mom and my sister on the sofa. I suspect this isn’t by accident.
Thankfully, with Mallory’s wit and charm and Mom’s hospitality, Finley is more relaxed by the time we finish the game. And of course they beat us by a landslide. Tyler and Grant are bickering over the fact neither could guess each other’s drawings.
Mallory suggests another game, but it’s after ten and Finley looks exhausted. “I think we’re gonna call it a night,” I say as I get to my feet, then walk over to Finley, reaching out a hand to her.
She looks up at me, and I see a flicker of relief.
“It’s still early,” Mal protests. “We could play another round.”
“And listen to Thing One and Thing Three squabble and draw like preschoolers?” I say, thumbing to my brothers. “Hard pass.”
Finley takes my hand, and I pull her to her feet.
“Good night, everyone,” she says, as I keep hold of her hand and tug her toward the kitchen.
“Good night,” a chorus of voices calls after us. Grant’s is noticeably absent.
I continue to hold her hand until we reach our room, then after I close the door behind us, I pull her into a hug.
That’s something a friend would do, right?
She leans her cheek against my chest and wraps her arms around my back.
I hold her like this for nearly a minute, neither of us saying anything.
I soak her in, a sadness brewing inside.
She was miserable tonight and it’s killing me.
She’s supposed to be having a magical Christmas, but my shithead brother pricked it like a balloon.
“Don’t make a decision tonight,” I say softly.
She doesn’t answer.
How do I fix this? Panic claws at my chest. I want to kick Grant’s ass. I want to shove his face into the snow. I want to force him to apologize and treat her with the respect she deserves.
But none of that will solve any of it. The damage has already been done.
Feeling reckless, I lift a hand to her cheek and gently lift her face to look up at me.
There’s sadness in her eyes, but something else too. Something I can’t name.
“Do you want to get ready for bed?” I ask.
“We still have to set out the stockings.”
After all this, she still wants to give everyone stockings. It only makes my frustration worse.
“Yeah,” I say, offhandedly, worried she’ll see my frustration and think it’s aimed at her. “But everyone’s still downstairs. How about we get ready and then put them together and take them down once everyone’s gone to bed?”
“Okay.”
She pulls away from me, and I miss the warmth of her body as she opens her suitcase and pulls out her pajamas and a toiletry bag. When she goes to the door, I follow her to the opening, watching as she slips into the bathroom like I’m her bodyguard.
I have no idea how long she’ll be and standing at the doorway is making me anxious. I’m about to turn back into our room when Mallory comes up the back staircase.
She casts a glance over my shoulder into the empty room that’s currently lit by the Christmas tree.
“She’s in the bathroom,” I say, lowering my voice.
She nods then gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry about Grant.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Yeah, me too.” But I’m still kicking myself for not preparing Finley for his anger, but then again, I expected him to turn the brunt of it on me.
“Do you think she’ll go home?” Mal asks, looking distraught.
“Honestly? I don’t know. She hasn’t asked me to get her a plane ticket home tomorrow, but the day after?” I shrug helplessly.
Determination fills her eyes. “We just have to make tomorrow so wonderful she won’t want to leave.”
“I promised her a special Christmas.” My voice breaks. “I’ve disappointed her.”
Mallory grabs my arm. “No, Alex!” she says in dismay. “This isn’t on you!”
But it is, because I brought her here for my own selfish reasons, knowing full well that Grant would be pissed. I was just too narcissistic to think Finley might be a victim in the fallout.
“Tomorrow’ll be a better day,” she says, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to convince me as much as she’s trying to convince herself.
“Yeah,” I say, because I’m desperate to believe it.
The bathroom door opens, and Finley walks out, wearing red and green plaid pajamas, and Mallory squeals, “Look at you! You’re so cute!”
Finley’s face flushes. “Thanks.”
“Oh! Next Christmas we should all wear matching pajamas,” Mallory decrees with a sharp nod. “Next summer, Finley and I can start looking for some online to order for everyone.”
Finley’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be here next Christmas.”
“What?” Mallory says in mock outrage. “Of course you will be. My brother would be an absolute idiot to break up with you, and I simply won’t allow it.”
Finley cracks a small smile. “And what if I break up with him?”
Some of the shine leaves Mallory’s eyes. “I can see how that might be a possibility but just remember that the King family is a package deal. You get me thrown in.”
Finley laughs, but it’s quiet and has a sad note. She won’t be here next Christmas. I knew this was the plan, but it doesn’t sit right.
“Well, we have things to do,” I say, putting my hand on the small of Finley’s back and ushering her into the room.
Mallory groans. “Gross. I did not need to hear that.” Then she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“You sister thinks you’re eager to have sex with me,” Finley states dryly.
I cringe. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
She walks over to the closet and pulls out the bags with the stockings and stuffers. “I thought we could stuff them up here then take the stockings down.”
“Good idea.”
We sit on the bed and assemble the stockings, inserting my gift cards as well as the candy and other small items we purchased. When we finish, I head downstairs to see if the coast is clear. The living room is empty, but the tree is still lit.
Finley and I hang the stockings from nails already in the mantle to hold up the evergreen swag draped over it.
When we finish, we stand back and examine our handiwork.
“Looks good,” I say. “Like when we were kids.”
“Good,” she says, taking a second longer to view it then heads upstairs, leaving me to follow.
My heart sinks. She may still be physically here, but her heart has already left.