Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alex
“Alex, we need to get you cleaned up,” Mom says.
I’m still staring out the window, even though their car is long out of sight.
“Come on, big brother.” Mallory tugs gently on my arm.
I let her lead me into the kitchen, still in a daze.
Just yesterday, Finley and I were chopping down a tree, hanging ornaments, wrapping gifts she convinced me to buy.
And now she’s gone. She was here less than seventy-two hours, yet her presence lingers everywhere. Without her, everything feels wrong.
Mallory nudges me onto a stool at the island. She and Mom disinfect my scratches, but all I can think about is Finley tending to my knee. I haven’t hurt this much since the incident six years ago. But that was shame and guilt. This is intense loss with some guilt mixed in.
Mallory wraps my hands in gauze until I look like a mummy. When they finish, I murmur a quiet thank you then head up upstairs.
In my room, I stop short. On the bed is a small, wrapped present with a folded note.
Alex,
With everything that happened last night and today, I didn’t get a chance to give you your present. Despite everything, I still consider my time here a gift.
Please stay the rest of the week for your mom and try to mend things with your family—even Grant. You’re so lucky to have them. Don’t take them for granted. I don’t know what happened to drive you away, but they love you. They miss you.
They want the best for you. I do too.
XOXO
Finley
P.S. Now you get your own bed.
My eyes sting and the words are blurry. Typical Finley—always thinking about what’s best for everyone at the expense of herself. Because it isn’t lost on me that in this whole mess, she’s the one who lost the most.
Our Christmas tree glitters in the corner, mocking me with its twinkling lights and the stupid stocking cap perched on top. Frustration boils over, and I start shoving my things in my suitcase.
“What are you doing?” Mallory’s voice breaks through, tight with panic from the open doorway.
“I’m not leaving,” I grunt, keeping my back to her. “Grant wants his damn bed so much, he can have it.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I snap the zipper closed hard enough to make my fingers sting. I’m so damn tired of everyone saying they’re sorry. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t bring Finley back. Sorry doesn’t take her pain away.
I grab the note and gift off the bed, stuff them into my bag, then head for the door. Mallory’s still planted there, watching me with wide, uncertain eyes. There’s something in her expression, something that tells me this isn’t just about Finley leaving.
“What?” I bark, sharper than I mean to.
She flinches, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she shuts the door behind her and squares her shoulders. “I read Holiday Fake Out.”
I shake my head in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The book Finley’s friend mentioned when she left.”
My jaw tightened. The morning’s a blur of chaos, and I barely remember anything beyond Finley’s face as she walked away. “And?”
Mallory’s voice trembles, but she pushes forward anyway. “Barb said she thought you were like the guy in that book.” She hesitates, then blurts, “Alex—that book was about a man who hires a woman to pretend to be his girlfriend at Christmas parties.”
The blood drains from my face.
Her eyes search mine, glassy and hurt. “Alex, is Tyler right? Did you hire Finley to pretend to be your girlfriend so you didn’t have to sleep on the sofa bed?”
I drop my bag on the floor and sink onto the edge of the bed, my gaze landing on the tree in the corner. “What do you think?”
Mallory shifts uneasily. “Honestly? I want to believe she’s real, but…
she’s not your type. At all. And yeah, I saw you hold her hand and have your arm around her—but I never once saw you kiss her.
Still…” She takes a breath. “You did things with her that you never would have done for any of your previous girlfriends, let alone someone you’d hired.
Plus, you’re genuinely upset about the way Grant was treating her.
And you were gutted she left. That’s not something you can fake.
” Her shoulders sag. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry I asked.”
I could keep lying, keep the walls up. Maybe it’s Finley’s influence, or maybe it’s my exhaustion of hiding things from my family. Either way, I chose the truth. Come what may.
“It’s true,” I say quietly.
Mallory frowns. “What’s true? That I was rude to ask?”
I swivel my head to look up at her. “That she’s not my girlfriend. Grant was right. She’s the barista at my coffee shop.” The words taste like glass. “Grant texted me while I was in line with Roland. He floated the idea, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.”
Her eyes widen in horror. “You tricked Finley?”
“No,” I protest, then grimace. “Maybe. I don’t know what’s real anymore.
” I drag a hand over my face. “But Finley—she never lied. Except for when we started dating. Everything else is true. She insisted on it.” A reluctant smile tugs at my lips.
“When I told her no one would believe I was dating a barista, she said if I couldn’t take her as she was, she was calling the whole thing off. ”
Mallory sinks down beside me, her voice shaking. “You tricked us, Alex. You made us love her and it wasn’t even real.”
I swallow hard. “But I want it to be.”
Her head snaps toward me, her eyes shining. “What did you just say?”
I turn to face her. “I want it to be real. I want her to be my girlfriend. Tyler was right. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her whole face lights up. “Then you have to win her back.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “I never had her, Mal. You can’t win back someone you never had.”
“I saw the way she looked at you,” she insists. “She wants you too.”
“I’ve hurt her, Mal. Badly.”
“No. Grant hurt her.”
I could argue that Grant’s fury was sparked by my lie, by me springing a fake girlfriend on the family, but that would be beating a dead horse.
Mallory leans forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s figure out how to win her back.”
“You’re going to help me?” I ask, stunned.
She smacks my arm. “Of course! Do you think you can do this on your own?”
I snort. “Mallory, I’m in the middle of building a multi-million-dollar tech company. I think I can handle this.”
She arches a brow. “You might be a brilliant businessperson, but you’re a disaster at love. Exhibit A: your sucky previous girlfriends.”
I shrug. She has a point.
“She’s still here in town, right?” she presses, practically bouncing on the bed.
“Yeah, but I have no idea where.”
She gives me a pointed look. “This is Hollybrook. People here can’t keep a secret for ten minutes. How hard can it be to track down two Valkyrie old women dressed like they raided a thrift store and wore everything out, and a gorgeous younger woman with them.”
I consider it, but it doesn’t take long. “We’ll have to get Mom in on it.”
“Well, duh!” she says like I’m an idiot. “You know she’ll be all over this.”
“Yeah.” But suddenly, doubt creeps in. This is what I want—but what about what Finley wants? Here in Hollybrook, being with her feels easy, natural. But what happens when we get back to Atlanta?
My professional life is chaos and will be for few months.
I try picturing her at a business dinner with investors’ wives, and the image falls apart.
She wouldn’t belong there—not because she isn’t educated or sophisticated enough, but because she’s too damn genuine.
Too real. She’s above all the pretense and posturing.
The thing is, I’ve dated polished, sophisticated women. None of them have made me feel half of what I feel for Finley.
But what does that mean for us? How would she fit into my world? And more terrifying—how would I fit into hers? She barely has any time to breathe. Would she want to spend it on me?
“What happened?” Mallory asks, studying me. “Where’d you just go?”
“This is what I want,” I admit. “But is it what’s best for Finley?”
Her glare could cut steel. “She’s a grown woman, Alex. Maybe let her decide what’s best for her instead of deciding for her.”
I give her a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that.”
“Damn right,” she says with a laugh. “Now, how about we find Mom before she drinks all the wine in the house? She’s got at least five bottles in the basement fridge, so you’ll be saving her from herself.”
“Okay,” I say, my chest tightening with equal parts excitement and terror. But another thought hits me—one that makes cold sweat prickle down my spine “But if I’m doing this…really doing it…I need to come clean. About everything.”
Her smile quickly fades. “Grant’s gonna lose his mind. And Tyler…”
I shrug, forcing a rueful smile. “I know. But if Finley gives me a chance, I don’t want any more lies.”
Her worry lingers, but she finally nods. “Okay. Then let’s go get everyone.”