Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Finley
To my frustration, when I wake, I realize I slept the entire afternoon away.
Mom always told me that when I was little, my defense mechanism for overwhelm was sleep. Some things don’t change. Only now, I don’t feel rested—I feel hollow. I miss Alex, which is stupid. How can you miss someone so much after only three days?
Maybe staying in Hollybrook is a mistake. This is his town and everything will remind me of him. Maybe we should just go home.
When I start down the stairs, I find a pan of kitty litter in front of the door.
After I set it in the bathroom, I shut Maybelle inside and go down.
The smell of something warm and savory hits me, pulling me toward the kitchen.
Mirna and Barb are bustling around in a way I’ve never seen before—working together, no bickering—and it stabs me with a memory of the past two days in the King kitchen.
A lump rises in my throat.
Stop thinking about Alex’s family. They’re not yours.
Mirna glances over and sees me in the doorway. “Well, look who’s up.”
“What are y’all doing?” I ask, even though it’s obvious—they’re cooking dinner. The sky outside is already dimming toward dusk.
“We found an open market to get kitty litter and decided since we were there, we might as well get stuff to make dinner,” she says with a smile. “You can treat us to a meal another night. I trust you found the litter pan?”
“I did, and whatever you’re making smells delicious. Sorry I slept so long.”
“Poppycock.” She waves me off. “You needed it.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans, and sweet rolls,” Barb says. “And we even got a chocolate cake for dessert.”
“Can I help?”
The two women exchange a glance before looking back at me.
“We’ve got everything under control,” Mirna says. “You’ve got some free time. What would you like to do? Watch a movie? Read a book?”
“I’ve got several books in my suitcase you might enjoy,” Barb says excitedly. “I can go grab them if you want.”
I give her a weak smile. “No offense, Barb, but the last thing I want to read is a romance.”
Her smile falters. “Yeah, I suppose I can see that.”
“You really liked this boy?” Mirna asks.
I nearly laugh at her calling Alex a boy. “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. Foolish heart.
Mirna turns back to chopping an onion. “He looked pretty devastated when you left. More devastated than a man ought to be over losing rights to a bed.”
I know she’s right. But in my mind, I twist it into something smaller. He was upset because of how badly Grant treated me. He felt responsible. That’s all.
And yet, there’s a tiny sliver of hope growing in my heart. I’m torn between coaxing it to life or stomping on it before it takes root.
“How about I just sit in here with you guys while you cook?”
“Whatever you want, dear,” Mirna says.
“So, how mad were your families when you took off to rescue me in Vermont?” I ask with a laugh.
They dive into stories about the fallout—angry kids, annoyed daughters-in-law, and guilt trips galore. And for a little while, their voices are enough to pull me out of my spiral. The ache in my chest softens, if only for a moment.
A half hour later, they announce dinner is ready. I set the table with Christmas dishes from the cabinet and glasses with painted Santa faces. We’ve just started eating when there’s a knock at the front door.
We all freeze, glancing at one another.
“Who on earth could that be?” Mirna asks.
“Maybe it’s the landlord,” Barb says. “Just like in—”
Mirna shoots her a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and Barb clamps her lips shut.
“I’ll get it,” I say, pushing away from the table. A grin tugs at my mouth. “Maybe it’s the owner, only hopefully not here to do whatever depraved things Barb was about to suggest.”
Barb’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Speak for yourself.”
I cross the living room and pull open the door. Snow is falling again, a fresh layer already dusting the sidewalks and street. No one is on the porch, but a small group stands on the sidewalk, holding candles. As soon as they see me, they start to sing Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow.
Carolers.
A week ago, I would’ve been bouncing with delight. Tonight, their voices and the song only make me ache. Alex should be here, listening to them with me, or out there singing with them.
“Who’s at the door?” Barb calls out.
“Christmas carolers,” I answer, my voice flatter than I intend.
“Well, that’s a pity,” Barb grumbles, appearing behind me.
“Where did that snowman come from?” Mirna asks as she steps into the doorway next to me.
I follow her gaze. Sure enough, a small snowman—three feet tall, at most—stands at the edge of the yard. I’m certain it wasn’t there when we arrived. At first glance, it looks like any snowman: charcoal eyes, a carrot for the nose, a stocking cap, and a knit scarf.
But then my breath catches.
Because I know that hat. And that scarf.
They’re Alex’s.
My heart skips a beat.
Jingling bells cut through the night, growing louder. I step onto the porch just as a horse pulling a sleigh appears at the end of the street, trotting toward the house. An older man is sitting on the front bench, holding the reins.
“Is that… a sleigh?” Mirna asks, sounding dazed.
The sleigh stops in front of our house and my breath catches.
Alex is sitting in the back.
He stands and hops out, never looking away from me as he walks closer.
Behind him, another group appears on the sidewalk—candles glowing as they join the other carolers. It takes me a second to recognize them.
The King family.
I gasp as tears sting my eyes.
Alex stops at the bottom of the steps. His hands flex uselessly at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, but his eyes—his rich brown eyes—are locked on me, pleading.
“What is this?” I ask, my gaze darting from his smiling mother and sister to his decidedly less-enthusiastic brothers.
Barb leans forward, her voice dry but amused. “Why, isn’t it obvious? He’s wooing you.”
I gasp, my heart stuttering in my chest, unwilling to believe. I glance back at Mirna.
She gives me a small, knowing smile. “For once, I think Barb might be right.”
Alex extends his hand. “Would you like to go on a sleigh ride?”
My chin trembles. “It depends.”
Fear flickers in his eyes. “On what?”
“On whether you’re asking me as your friend or…”
“Girlfriend?” he finishes, then swallows hard. “What if my answer is—I want you to be my girlfriend. But if all I can get is friend, I’ll take it and hope you’ll let me prove I’m trustworthy.”
I take a step toward him, sure I’ve misheard. “And if I said I’d like to be more than friends?”
His mouth curves, soft and unguarded. “Then that would be the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten in my life.”
“Hey!” Grant shouts. “It can’t be better than the year I got you Call of Duty.”
Mallory elbows him hard enough to make him grunt and stumble.
Alex flashes a grin at his brother. “Sorry, asshole. This would be a million times better.” Then he turns back to me, everything else falling away. “So… what do you say? Want to go on a sleigh ride?”
I try for a joke, my voice wobbling. “Isn’t the line ‘wanna build a snowman?’”
He gestures to the snowman in the yard. “Already built one for you. But we can build one together if you want. We can do all the Christmas things—I want to go sledding, have a snowball fight, and teach you how to ice skate. We can make gingerbread houses or paint Santas on ceramic plates and anything else you want to do.”
“You actually want to do all that?”
He steps onto the lowest porch step, closing the space between us. “I want to do them with you, Finley.”
I swallow hard. “But why?” My voice is barely a whisper. “I was only supposed to pretend to be your girlfriend. You don’t have to do any of that with me.”
He lifts his hand to my cheek. His fingers are cold, but his touch sends a thrill through me. “Because I want to be with you, Finley. I want you. I’ve been miserable since you left.”
“I’ve only been gone about six hours,” I murmur, stunned.
“The longest six hours of my life.”
“It’s true!” Mallory shouts behind him. “He’s been moping around like a sad sack.”
“Finley hasn’t been much better,” Barb calls from behind me.
“Barb!” Mirna snaps. “No helping the enemy.”
“I just call ’em as I see ’em. And he’s not her enemy—he wants to be her lover. Although enemies-to-lovers is always a satisfying trope.”
My cheeks burn.
“How about we take it one step at a time?” Alex’s eyes twinkle. “We could start with a kiss.”
My breath hitches. “That seems like a reasonable place to start.”
He grins. “How do you feel about public displays of affection?”
I grin back. “Depends. Are we in public right now?”
Still smiling, he lowers his mouth, his lips brushing gently against mine. I press into him, kissing him back, soft but certain. It’s a tender kiss, but under the surface is the promise of so much more.
It’s perfect.
When he pulls away, his gaze is full of wonder. “So… about that sleigh ride?”
I arch a brow. “Will it take us somewhere less public?”
His answering grin is pure mischief. “That can be arranged.”
“Then why are we still standing here?”
Laughing, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the sleigh.
“She doesn’t have a coat!” Mirna calls after us.
“Her coat’s in the sleigh!” Mallory calls out.
Sure enough, Alex sets me down in the sleigh, and under a blanket is Mallory’s red coat and the scarf she got me for Christmas.
“You left it behind,” Alex says.
He helps me into my coat, adjusts the scarf around my neck, and slips a hat and mittens on me, then he settles beside me and draws fake-fur blankets over us until I’m warm and cocooned.
“Okay, Jerry,” he says to the driver. “We’re ready.”
Jerry snaps the reins, and the horse plods down the snow-covered street. Mirna and Barb wave, and Barb calls out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“Why do I get the impression there isn’t much Barb wouldn’t do?” Alex asks with a laugh.
“Because it’s an accurate assessment.”
His family waves as we pass. Mallory is literally jumping up and down.
“Why do I think Mallory was instrumental in setting all this up?”
He grimaces. “Would it ruin it if she was?”
“No. It’s like getting her blessing.”
“You have my whole family’s blessing,” he says quietly. “I told them everything. That you weren’t my girlfriend—but I want you to be.”
My happiness falters. “Do they hate me?”
“Do you think they’d be out here caroling if they did? My brothers hate caroling.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ears. “But they like you.”
I stare up at him, sure this is a dream, and I’ll wake up and find myself back in Atlanta. Alone.
“How did you find me?”
He laughs. “The joys of living in a small town. Everyone knows everyone’s business. It took Mom about ten minutes and that was because she got stuck on the phone with Mrs. Hamilton for about seven of them.”
I can’t stop smiling.
“Do you think this is less public enough?” His gaze pins me. “Because I’m not sure how much longer I can wait to kiss you the way I’ve been wanting to kiss you for days.”
“Yes.” The word slips out, breathless.
His palm slides up the side of my neck, his thumb grazing my pulse as he tilts my head back. Then his mouth is on mine—hotter, hungrier than before. Every ounce of restraint we’ve been clinging to shatters like ice. My hands fist in his coat as I kiss him back, just as needy, just as desperate.
He kisses me like a drowning man searching for air—and I’m his only breath. When he finally pulls away, I’m dizzy, my lips tingling, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Is this real?” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
His thumb sweeps across my cheekbone, anchoring me. “Yes.”
“How are we gonna make this work, Alex? We live completely different lives.”
His thumb strokes my jaw, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know, Fin. But I do know I was miserable without you. I don’t want to feel like that again, so we’ll figure it out—whatever it takes.”
He lowers his mouth to mine again. This kiss is slower but no less intense, a promise in every brush of his lips. By the time he lifts his head, I believe him.
“Will you come back to my parents’ house?” he asks softly.
For the first time, I glance away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
His face falls.
“But Barb and Mirna have the house for the rest of the week,” I add quickly. “So maybe we could… date?”
His smile blooms, warm enough to melt the snow around us. “I would love to date you, Finley O’Brien.”
The sleigh glides forward, the bells jingling in time with my racing heart, and as Alex’s hand finds mine under the blanket, I know this is just the beginning of our story.