Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Finley
I wake up to Christmas music drifting through the house. Still half-asleep, I reach for Maybelle, but my hand finds only a pillow. Blinking, I roll over and spot Alex stretched out on the other side of the bed. His eyes are shut, but his face twists in a grimace.
“It’s definitely Christmas morning. Mom’s blasting carols.”
“Is that another tradition?” I ask.
“Yep.” He grabs the pillow between us and covers his face.
“Are you trying to smother yourself?” I tease.
“If it saves me from the torture, then yes.” His voice mumbles from beneath the pillow.
I tug the pillow away, and he blinks up at me. “Do you want me to suffer?”
“And if I said yes?” I ask playfully.
His eyes crack open in a squint. “Then I probably deserve it.”
The weight of reality crashes back—Grant is here, and I’m ruining his Christmas. My smile falters.
Alex’s humor vanishes the second he sees it. “Don’t,” he pleads softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t go.”
My breath catches. I want to stay—so badly. Not just because I love spending time with his family, but because I love spending time with him. Once I go home, how do I go back to the superficial banter we had before? Especially when I want so much more. More than he’s willing to give.
I sit up, and he does too, turning to face me.
“Just give it today and see how it goes, okay?” he asks. The pleading in his voice catches me off guard. It feels like more than worry over Eloise showing up—but I can’t risk reading too much into it. I have to protect my heart.
“Okay.” But it’s easy to agree because I already promised Barb and Mirna. “So, what does a typical King Christmas look like?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“How about I just show you?” A twinkle fills his eyes, and he hops out of bed. “Don’t change. Another tradition.”
We go downstairs—me in my pajamas, him in his sweatpants and a T-shirt. His parents are already at the island with steaming mugs of coffee—also in their pajamas—and the air smells like sweet and savory heaven.
“Merry Christmas,” Valerie says warmly, though her gaze lingers on me.
“Merry Christmas,” Alex and I say in unison. He gives me a boyish smile, and my heart flips.
Do not fall for Alex King.
I think it’s a little too late for that.
All the more reason to leave tomorrow.
I make everyone espresso drinks as best I can without a machine, and a short bit later, Mallory and Tyler come down, and I make them drinks too. Alex keeps shooting me glances like he’s not happy I’m making them, but he doesn’t seem mad about it.
A timer dings, and Valerie pulls a bubbling breakfast casserole dish from the oven, followed by a tray of cinnamon rolls. Grant still hasn’t come up, but Valerie insists we eat without him. The guilt gnaws at me. Would they have waited if I wasn’t here?
We dish up buffet-style and carry our plates to the table. We’ve barely started eating when Grant shuffles in wearing Santa flannel pajama pants and a gray T-shirt. He has a major case of bedhead and the dark circles under his eyes make him look like he’s been on an all-night bender.
If he’s annoyed we didn’t wait for him, he doesn’t let on, but he does take offense when he sees the nearly empty coffee pot.
“No coffee?” he demands, giving the pot a shake.
“Your father and I drank most of it,” Valerie says smoothly, “but Finley can make you a drink.”
“Finley?” His disbelief drips like acid.
“She can make all kinds of coffee drinks,” Mallory says. “What do you usually order at a coffee shop?” Mallory asks.
“Coffee,” he says dryly, pouring the dregs into his cup. It barely fills it a quarter of the way.
“I can make you an Americano,” I offer quickly, getting to my feet. “That’s what I make for Tyler and your dad. Or I could use the French press.”
Grant’s jaw drops. He swivels to me, then to Alex, outraged. “You brought your girlfriend to make everyone coffee? What is she? A barista?”
The room is deadly silent. No one moves.
Grant’s eyes go wide. “Oh, my God. She is a barista! Did you meet her at your coffee shop?”
Heat floods my face, hot enough to scorch. Is it possible to actually die of embarrassment?
“Grant!” Valerie shouts, harsher than I’ve ever heard. “Watch your tone!”
“What?” Grant advances, his glare locked on Alex. I suddenly realize Alex has risen too—positioned right behind me.
“You were so desperate for the bed you hired your barista to come to Hollybrook?”
Mass chaos erupts—Valerie and Dr. Bob are shouting at Grant and Tyler physically restrains Alex, who’s roaring that Grant’s going to pay for insulting his girlfriend.
Mallory watches in horror for two beats before springing into action. She slips an arm around my shoulders and hustles me toward the living room.
“Finley, I am so, so sorry,” she gushes. “I have no idea what’s gotten into him!”
“He’s probably upset about his breakup,” I murmur, but I’m drowning in guilt. Because Grant is spot on. Alex did bring me so he could sleep in the bed. And technically he did hire me since he’s paying for my lost wages. We have a contract, for heaven’s sake.
“That’s no excuse,” she says fiercely, her voice breaking.
“I think I should just go,” I whisper.
She vigorously shakes her head. “No! Absolutely not. You shouldn’t have to leave because Grant’s throwing a temper tantrum.”
The shouting in the kitchen dulls to a low roar. My stomach twists. Would Alex drive me to an outlying town so I can spend the night and catch a flight tomorrow? Or maybe I can find a flight today. It’ll cost a fortune, but I’ll find a way to pay Barb and Mirna back.
I pull out my phone and try to call Barb, but it goes to voicemail.
“Who are you calling?” Mallory asks in alarm.
Ignoring her, I end the call and call Mirna, next. It goes to voicemail too.
Of course it does. It’s Christmas morning and they’re spending it with their families.
“Finley, we don’t want you to go,” Mallory pleads.
I open our group chat—Bad Ass Babes (three guesses who named it)—and type:
Things just took a really bad turn. I need to leave today
“Alex!” Mallory shouts, panic lacing her voice.
Alex storms in, red faced, and wound tighter than a live wire.
“I think she’s trying to go home,” Mallory blurts.
Alex’s face drains of color, and he rushes toward me. “No. We’re both going.”
“No, Alex,” I protest, my tears finally breaking free. “This is your family.”
“I’m not letting him treat you like that. Not on Christmas.” He pulls me into his arms, holding on like he’s daring anyone to pry me away.
“No, you can’t leave too!” Mallory cries.
“Who’s leaving?” Dr. Bob demands from the doorway.
“Alex and Finley!” Mallory sobs.
“No,” Valerie gasps, hurrying into the room, her face ashen.
“Alex isn’t leaving,” I say quickly, wiping my tears. “But I am. I think it’s for the best. The last thing I want is to cause more trouble between all y’all.”
“If you think you’re leaving without me, you’re crazy,” Alex grinds out, his teeth clenched.
I stare up at him, stunned. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not anything to him. So why is he acting like this is upsetting him enough to make him leave with me? Unless… maybe he just wants an excuse to leave too.
The thought makes me feel even worse.
“No one’s leaving,” Dr. Bob cuts in, voice like steel, then he stalks out of the room.
Valerie steps close, her hands trembling, eyes shining with tears. “Alex, I know you’re upset—and you have every right to be—but please, don’t go. I just got you here. And Finley—” her voice breaks. “Finley’s such a delight.”
The hardness on Alex’s face flickers, but only for a second.
“I can’t let him talk about her like that.
” He gestures toward me, his fury rising again.
“I promised her a sweet family Christmas, and she’s crying.
On Christmas!” His fists clench, every muscle in his body wound tight, his hands fisted at his side.
“He can say what he wants about me, but not her.”
Valerie lifts her hands, pleading. “I know, I know. We’ll fix this. Just… don’t make any decisions yet. Please.”
He gives a stiff nod, then wraps an arm around my back, tugging me close.
I glance up at him and lower my voice. “Alex, can I speak with you alone?”
He stares down at me, and the worry in his eyes steals my breath. How can he look at me like that? How can he be so worried about me?
Because he’s not a monster, Finley. Besides, he’s your friend.
He nods, then leads me into his parents’ office, shutting the door behind us.
“God, Finley—” he starts, his voice raw.
“Let’s just take a deep breath.” I do it first, holding his gaze. Inhale. Exhale. I draw another breath, and this time he follows, and a little tension drains from his shoulders.
“Okay,” I say, forcing calm, even if it’s a struggle to reach it. “I know you don’t know me very well, but despite the fact I came on this trip with you, I’m usually very practical.”
“I already know that,” he says, his forehead creasing. “You can’t live the life you’ve lived without being practical.”
My heart gives a ridiculous flutter that he knows that about me, but I shove it aside. “We need to look at this logically. Grant’s acting out because he’s hurt over his breakup, and I’m the easy scapegoat. I think the most logical—and kindest—solution is for me to go.”
He starts to protest, but I close the space between us and press my finger to his mouth. “Alex. You know I’m right.”
His eyes flare slightly, and it’s like a jolt of electricity sparks from his lips into my fingertip. Does he feel it too—the pull for something more? Does he want me to replace the finger with my lips?
What would it be like to kiss him? Just once. I’ve never believed in Christmas wishes, but if my Hollybrook Christmas is unraveling, would it be so bad to steal one? This is already ending badly. How much worse could it get?
But before I can act on my impulse, he gently tugs my hand down and lets go. “You leaving isn’t being kind to you. I promised you a Hollybrook Christmas.”