Chapter 30 #2
Disappointment washes through me at the lost chance to kiss him, but the truth is, things could be worse.
I’d rather live in the fantasy of possibility than the reality of rejection.
“And I got a Hollybrook Christmas.” I manage a crooked, self-deprecating smile.
“It just wasn’t the Christmas either of us expected. ”
“No.” Fury fills his eyes. “If you go, then I go too.”
“And you’ll break your mother’s heart.”
Something wavers in his expression. He knows I’m right.
A knock interrupts us, followed by his father’s voice. “When you two finish up here, will you meet us in the living room?”
I stare up at Alex, my chest tight. For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine this is real—someone fighting this hard to keep me. Someone whose arms could be home.
I’m so very tired of being alone.
But this isn’t real. It never was.
I turn and walk past him before he can stop me, opening the door. He follows, of course.
When we step into the living room, everyone is already seated. Valerie and Mallory are on the sofa. Dr. Bob is in his recliner. Tyler and Grant are sitting in two armchairs, and Grant’s head is lowered.
“Will you please sit?” Valerie asks, gesturing to the empty love seat.
I don’t wait for Alex to answer and take a seat. He joins me, taking my hand in his and holding tight.
“We sincerely apologize for the way you’ve been treated, Finley,” Dr. Bob says. “Grant has something to say.”
Grant looks up, his eyes red like he’s been crying. He swallows. “I’m sorry for my behavior. I’m upset and took it out on you, but it won’t happen again.” His words sound right, but there’s still an air of defiance under the surface. He still resents me being here.
“Thank you,” I say simply. “I accept.”
“I don’t,” Alex snaps. “You were out of line.”
Grant lifts his chin, meeting Alex’s glare head-on.
“Grant apologized,” Valerie says firmly, raising her hands. “Let’s try to salvage Christmas.”
Alex doesn’t look appeased, and Grant looks like a pressure cooker that’s let out a little steam but is still ready to blow.
“Okay,” Mallory says with a forced cheerfulness. “Should we finish breakfast then open presents?”
“That’s a good idea,” Valerie agrees.
A half-hearted chorus of not hungrys ripples through the room.
“Okay,” Valerie says, looking a little defeated. “Maybe we should open gifts. Bob, will you get us started?”
Dr. Bob looks like he doesn’t think it’s the best idea, but he obeys his wife, reaching under the tree and handing a present to Mallory.
She checks the tag and beams. “It’s from Alex. And it looks too big to be a gift card.”
He gives her a tight smile, then squeezes my hand.
She tears into the paper and squeals. She uncovers a cream-colored leather wallet—the same one Alex and I saw her eyeing at the market. “Thank you, Alex,” she gushes, clutching it to her chest. Then she grins at me. “And thank you, Finley.”
I smile back, warmth flooding my chest.
Dr. Bob must take that as a good sign because he passes out more gifts to everyone but me, which I expected.
Still, I watch with genuine delight as they unwrap each present.
Tyler has given his mother a painted portrait of the four kids when they were younger.
I recognize it instantly from the photo Alex sent me.
“Tyler, this is… beautiful.” Valerie’s voice trembles.
“That’s not all,” he says, a little stiff. “It’s been a while since we had a professional family photo. I booked a photographer while we’re all here.”
“Oh, Tyler!” she exclaims. “Thank you.”
He gives a sharp nod.
One by one the gifts are opened, and laughter fills the room, and the earlier heaviness starts to lift. I ooh and ahh with the rest, caught up in their excitement. The unwrapping stretches on for over an hour, each gift shown and admired before moving to the next.
Alex must have tucked my presents for his family in the back, because they don’t surface until nearly everything is gone. At last, Dr. Bob pulls out the last few packages wrapped in paper I recognize.
He hands them around, and everyone looks down at the tags in surprise—everyone except Grant. He hangs his head.
“Finley,” Valerie protests. “You didn’t have to get us anything.”
“I wanted to. Y’all have been so kind.” I pause. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
They open their gifts, and some of the ache in my heart fills with warmth. I love Alex’s family and seeing them happy makes me happy too.
Another reminder of why I need to go.
“Bob,” Valerie says, craning her neck to peer around the tree. “There should be at least one more gift under there.
Dr. Bob crouches, then slides out several presents. “Actually, there are three.” He checks the tags, then hands them all to me. “For Finley.”
My eyes fly wide in surprise. I can’t remember the last time I was part of a Christmas morning gift exchange, let alone opened a present meant for me. Barb and Mirna and I exchange gifts, but usually in Barb’s apartment with glasses of sherry.
This is different.
My fingers linger on the paper, savoring the moment, then I feel silly for stalling.
I start with the largest, a rectangular box tagged From the Kings. Inside is a beautiful knit scarf I’d admired at the market. Tears fill my eyes, as my gaze finds Mallory. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says.
I loop it around my neck, patting the spot where it crosses under my chin. “I love it.”
“You’ve got two more,” Mallory urges. “Open them!”
The next is smaller, the wrapping unmistakably Alex’s. I grin at him. “The tag only has my name, but it has your handiwork all over it.”
He smirks. “You came upstairs just as I was slapping on the last piece of tape. I barely got your name on before I opened the door.”
My heart swells as I tear it open. Inside is a delicate heart locket on a chain.
“Open it,” he says.
I snap it open and grin like a fool when I see a tiny photo of our tree inside.
“What’s in there?” Mallory asks.
“That’s private,” Alex cuts in, though his voice is playful. He takes the locket from me, and I lift my hair so he can fasten it around my neck.
When it falls into place, I tug the scarf down so the locket shows. “Thank you,” I murmur, meeting his gaze.
His eyes lock on mine, so intense it makes me want to lean in and kiss him. The kiss I’d wanted in the study was sweet; this one burns with heat. Every nerve in my body sparks, aching for him.
My breath catches—until someone clears their throat. Loudly.
Probably Grant.
My cheeks flush as I pull back and look at the last gift. It’s featherweight, wrapped in paper I haven’t seen on any other package—white with embossed snowflakes. The tag is written in elegant script: To: Finley. From: Santa.
I glance up at Alex, my lips tugging into a grin. “Santa?”
His expression gives nothing away.
Curiosity buzzing through me, I peel back the paper and lift the lid of the box. My breath catches and I feel lightheaded.
No. It can’t be.
Inside is the Santa glass ornament from the market.