“Yeah,” I say, weighing how much to say. The last thing I want is to betray Finley’s trust, but they need to prepare for the possible fall out. “She’s thinking about leaving.”
My mother’s eyes fly open as Mallory lets out a horrified, “No!”
“I think I’ve convinced her to stay,” I add quickly. “But I also told her it’s her choice. The last thing I want is for her to feel unwelcome here.”
“Especially on Christmas,” Mom says softly.
Grant’s shoulders ease, his body losing some of its rigid defiance.
“She doesn’t have any other family, you know,” Mallory says, shoving Grant’s arm. “She’s a literal orphan and you’re putting her out on the street on Christmas!”
“I’m doing no such thing!” Grant protests. “I didn’t tell her to leave!”
“You sure made it so she wouldn’t want to stay,” Tyler says. The room goes still as we all stare at him in shock. Tyler almost never wades into family disputes, preferring to watch from the sidelines.
Grant’s brow practically shoots to his hairline.
Tyler shoves his hand in his front pockets. “She’s a sweet woman. She obviously has a serious lack of judgement in men if she’s with Alex?—”
“Hey!” I cut in.
“—but she’s good for him. And you treated her like crap.” His gaze could bore holes into Grant.
“How was I supposed to know?” Grant fires back, defensive.
“It’s called manners, Grant.” Mom sighs. “Honestly, you’d think I raised you kids in a zoo.”
“Hey!” Mallory protests.
Mom gives her a gentle smile. “You were raised with the koalas. Sweet and cuddly.”
“And stoned on eucalyptus,” Grant mutters, and Mal shoots him a glare.
Mom’s focus swings back to Grant, her expression hardening. “You will be kind to that girl. And if you aren’t, we’ll take your presents away.”
Outrage spreads across Grant’s face. “I’m not ten years old, Mom.”
“Then stop acting like you are,” Mom counters crisply. She turns to me, her face softening. “What can we do to make Finley feel more comfortable? Make Grant eat dinner out in the garage?”
“Hey!” Grant protests, but she ignores him.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “We agreed I’d bring down the gifts, then she’d decide if she’s coming down.”
“Tell her that I’m making our traditional Christmas Eve dinner,” Mom says. “She loves taking part in our traditions.”
I want to tell her the reason Finley loves taking part in them is because Mom and Mal have gone out of their way to make her feel welcome—and now that’s been threatened. But saying it out loud would just be beating a dead horse. “I’ll tell her.”
I’m about to head back upstairs, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I nearly ignore it, desperate to check on Finley, but her name on the screen stops me cold.
I’m going to call my friends. I’ll let you know when I’m done
A knot tightens in my gut. Will her honorary grandmothers hire assassins to take me out after letting her get hurt? Or worse—will they convince her to come home? I want to go up and make things right, but Barb and Mirna will likely do a better job of comforting her than I can.
What do I know about comforting women?
I text back:
Tell Barb I said I’m doing everything I can to make this right
