Chapter Thirty-One
Alex
What the hell? Where did that come from?
Finley shakes her head, her eyes glassy. “This is too much, Alex.”
My heart is racing. “I never said I got it.”
“Of course you did.” She runs a fingertip over the ornament, reverent. “You’re the only one who knew.”
I flick a glance to Mallory. She’s wide-eyed, shaking her head.
The truth claws at me. I could take the credit—clearly the giver wanted to stay anonymous—but Finley deserves honesty. She insisted on it when I introduced her to my family, and I know her well enough to know she values truth in everything—especially with something as dear to her as this.
“Finley,” I say carefully, “I didn’t?—”
“He didn’t do it alone,” Tyler cuts in, leaning back in his chair. “He had help so you wouldn’t notice.”
I freeze, my mouth parting. Tyler bought it? Why?
Finley glances at him then turns to Mallory. “Is that what you two were up to?”
“Guilty as charged.” Tyler leans back and rests his ankle on the opposite leg. “They say it takes a village.”
Why did Tyler buy it? Does he have feelings for Finley? It’s not hard to believe. He’s been protective of her since the moment she walked in the door—and look at her. Sure, she’s gorgeous, but her heart is even more stunning. How could he not feel something?
A hot twist coils in my chest. Is that … jealousy? I’ve never been a jealous guy, but this white-hot poker in my ribs is just that.
Why would I be jealous?
You know, you idiot.
I glance at Finley. Her face glows with Christmas joy, and it hits me like a baseball to the face.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt—I want this woman. Not as a friend. Not as someone I’m casually dating. I want her to be my girlfriend.
How a relationship would work, I don’t know. Especially after the way I treated her on the drive here, and with everything Grant’s thrown at her. But I want her anyway.
Now I just have to convince her to give us a chance.
I mouth thank you to Tyler. Whatever his motives, he just saved Finley’s Christmas. He gives a short nod. I’ll pay him back for it later.
Mom looks puzzled by the exchange, so I explain why the ornament is special to Finley and how it became a group effort. I leave out the part about where Mallory missed buying it in time—better to let Mom glow over the idea of her kids working together for once.
Then I catch Grant’s scowl. His gaze snags on the fireplace. “Since when do we have stockings?”
The stockings.
In all the chaos, I forgot about them, and apparently everyone else was too preoccupied to notice them hanging from the mantle. I open my mouth to explain, but Grant barrels on, venom dripping.
“And why does Finley have one—when she’s probably just Alex’s flavor of the week—and Eloise doesn’t.”
The color drains from Finley’s face. Her joy bleeds away like he stabbed her straight through.
“Grant!” Mom protests.
Finley rises, clutching the ornament box to her chest. Her voice is steady, sweet—too sweet. “Thank you for my gift and the help you gave Alex to get the ornament. I’m feeling a little tired, so I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down.”
