Despite the undercurrent tugging at me, I’m happy. I’ve had more fun with Alex over the past two days than I’ve had in ages.
We’re about to have a race cutting the wrapping paper for our last gifts—I’ll have to sneak away later to wrap his—when the doorbell rings. We both freeze, scissors poised at the edges of the paper.
Alex shoots me a wicked gleam.
“What?” But then the realization hits. It’s nearly five. My breath sticks in my chest. “Your brother’s here,” I whisper.
His merriment fades, replaced by a quiet reassurance. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly. “I promise.”
I glance down at our unfinished wrapping. We were so close to being done. “Should we finish or go down to greet them?”
He looks like he’d rather stay hidden but finally nods. “Let’s go down, then come back and finish.”
“Okay.” It seems like a good compromise.
We throw a blanket over the half-wrapped gifts and head down the front staircase at the other end of the hall. My stomach is in knots as I trail Alex down the steps. He stops at the bottom, watching his family.
Valerie has her arms around her son, while his father and brother linger to the side. Mallory hangs back, glancing at the front door.
“Grant!” Valerie gushes. “I’m so happy you’re home!”
“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.” His tone doesn’t match his words. “Sorry I didn’t get here earlier.”
“Well, you’re here now.” She hugs him again, then glances past him. “Is Eloise still in the car? Does she need help with her bags?”
Grant’s jaw tightens as he turns, his gaze slicing toward Alex before shifting to me. The look he gives me could pin me to the staircase. “Eloise didn’t come.”
Alex goes rigid. “Why?”
“We broke up this morning.” Grant’s voice is tight, his stare locked firmly on his brother. “And it’s all your fault.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alex
I’m still too stunned by his announcement to let his anger sink in.
Eloise didn’t come.
I brought Finley for nothing?
Horror flashes across Mom’s face. “Grant! You’re being rude!”
“Why?” he shoots back sarcastically. “Because I’m calling Alex on his shit?”
Her gaze sharpens, her voice deadly calm. “You’re being inexcusably rude to our guest.”
Grant’s glare swings to Finley, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. My fists clench at my sides before I even register the movement. Rationally, I know he’d never lay a hand on her. But reason doesn’t matter. Every instinct in me is coiled, ready to step between them without a second thought.
“Aw,” Grant says with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The infamous Finley.”
“Grant!” Mallory gasps.
I feel Finley shrink behind me. I expected Grant to be pissed, but I never thought he’d go after her. If I’d had any inkling, I would’ve told her to stay upstairs while I deal with his attitude.
I slide an arm around her waist, snuggling her into my side, and force myself to meet his accusation head-on. “Breaking up with your girlfriend has nothing to do with me—or Finley.” My voice comes out so tight it scrapes my throat.
“I’ll say,” Mallory mutters.
