Mallory grabs my arm. “No, Alex!” she says in dismay. “This isn’t on you!”
But it is, because I brought her here for my own selfish reasons, knowing full well that Grant would be pissed. I was just too narcissistic to think Finley might be a victim in the fallout.
“Tomorrow’ll be a better day,” she says, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to convince me as much as she’s trying to convince herself.
“Yeah,” I say, because I’m desperate to believe it.
The bathroom door opens, and Finley walks out, wearing red and green plaid pajamas, and Mallory squeals, “Look at you! You’re so cute!”
Finley’s face flushes. “Thanks.”
“Oh! Next Christmas we should all wear matching pajamas,” Mallory decrees with a sharp nod. “Next summer, Finley and I can start looking for some online to order for everyone.”
Finley’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be here next Christmas.”
“What?” Mallory says in mock outrage. “Of course you will be. My brother would be an absolute idiot to break up with you, and I simply won’t allow it.”
Finley cracks a small smile. “And what if I break up with him?”
Some of the shine leaves Mallory’s eyes. “I can see how that might be a possibility but just remember that the King family is a package deal. You get me thrown in.”
Finley laughs, but it’s quiet and has a sad note. She won’t be here next Christmas. I knew this was the plan, but it doesn’t sit right.
“Well, we have things to do,” I say, putting my hand on the small of Finley’s back and ushering her into the room.
Mallory groans. “Gross. I did not need to hear that.” Then she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“You sister thinks you’re eager to have sex with me,” Finley states dryly.
I cringe. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
She walks over to the closet and pulls out the bags with the stockings and stuffers. “I thought we could stuff them up here then take the stockings down.”
“Good idea.”
We sit on the bed and assemble the stockings, inserting my gift cards as well as the candy and other small items we purchased. When we finish, I head downstairs to see if the coast is clear. The living room is empty, but the tree is still lit.
Finley and I hang the stockings from nails already in the mantle to hold up the evergreen swag draped over it.
When we finish, we stand back and examine our handiwork.
“Looks good,” I say. “Like when we were kids.”
“Good,” she says, taking a second longer to view it then heads upstairs, leaving me to follow.
My heart sinks. She may still be physically here, but her heart has already left.
Chapter Thirty
Finley
I wake up to Christmas music drifting through the house. Still half-asleep, I reach for Maybelle, but my hand finds only a pillow. Blinking, I roll over and spot Alex stretched out on the other side of the bed. His eyes are shut, but his face twists in a grimace.
“It’s definitely Christmas morning. Mom’s blasting carols.”
“Is that another tradition?” I ask.
“Yep.” He grabs the pillow between us and covers his face.
