“Finley,” Valerie protests. “You didn’t have to get us anything.”
“I wanted to. Y’all have been so kind.” I pause. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
They open their gifts, and some of the ache in my heart fills with warmth. I love Alex’s family and seeing them happy makes me happy too.
Another reminder of why I need to go.
“Bob,” Valerie says, craning her neck to peer around the tree. “There should be at least one more gift under there.
Dr. Bob crouches, then slides out several presents. “Actually, there are three.” He checks the tags, then hands them all to me. “For Finley.”
My eyes fly wide in surprise. I can’t remember the last time I was part of a Christmas morning gift exchange, let alone opened a present meant for me. Barb and Mirna and I exchange gifts, but usually in Barb’s apartment with glasses of sherry.
This is different.
My fingers linger on the paper, savoring the moment, then I feel silly for stalling.
I start with the largest, a rectangular box tagged From the Kings. Inside is a beautiful knit scarf I’d admired at the market. Tears fill my eyes, as my gaze finds Mallory. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” she says.
I loop it around my neck, patting the spot where it crosses under my chin. “I love it.”
“You’ve got two more,” Mallory urges. “Open them!”
The next is smaller, the wrapping unmistakably Alex’s. I grin at him. “The tag only has my name, but it has your handiwork all over it.”
He smirks. “You came upstairs just as I was slapping on the last piece of tape. I barely got your name on before I opened the door.”
My heart swells as I tear it open. Inside is a delicate heart locket on a chain.
“Open it,” he says.
I snap it open and grin like a fool when I see a tiny photo of our tree inside.
“What’s in there?” Mallory asks.
“That’s private,” Alex cuts in, though his voice is playful. He takes the locket from me, and I lift my hair so he can fasten it around my neck.
When it falls into place, I tug the scarf down so the locket shows. “Thank you,” I murmur, meeting his gaze.
His eyes lock on mine, so intense it makes me want to lean in and kiss him. The kiss I’d wanted in the study was sweet; this one burns with heat. Every nerve in my body sparks, aching for him.
My breath catches—until someone clears their throat. Loudly.
Probably Grant.
My cheeks flush as I pull back and look at the last gift. It’s featherweight, wrapped in paper I haven’t seen on any other package—white with embossed snowflakes. The tag is written in elegant script: To: Finley. From: Santa.
I glance up at Alex, my lips tugging into a grin. “Santa?”
His expression gives nothing away.
Curiosity buzzing through me, I peel back the paper and lift the lid of the box. My breath catches and I feel lightheaded.
No. It can’t be.
Inside is the Santa glass ornament from the market.
