I groan in frustration. I don’t need a reminder that I fall short of the other women he’s introduced to them. I level my gaze and say stiffly, “If you’re uncomfortable introducing the real me to them, then we should plan on me leaving tomorrow. We’ll just get through tonight.”
His eyes fly wide. “No! They’re going to love you. Trust me on that.”
I’ve trusted him enough to come here, but now I’m not sure my trust was well placed. “Well, I’m here, so I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
He starts to say something then stops. I’m sure he’s worried about how this is going to go. I can’t say I blame him. I’m not feeling overly fond of him at the moment.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, hoping it’s true. “Let’s pretend this never happened and make the best of it.”
He studies me for a second longer than necessary, still looking undecided, but then he opens his door and gets out.
I step out onto the snowy driveway, and my feet slip out from under me on the thin, slick layer of fresh snow. I grab the car door and right myself, realizing I don’t have appropriate footwear for this kind of weather. Holding onto the side of the car, I make my way to the back and see Alex holding my suitcase about to close the hatch.
He takes one look at me and frowns. “Do you have any snowshoes or boots?”
“I live in Atlanta, Georgia,” I say with more attitude than I intended.
He takes in my cardigan. “What about a winter coat?”
“Again, I live in Atlanta. We don’t exactly need winter coats there.” I’m not sure why I find his question so offensive. It’s not an unreasonable question.
“Yeah, but...” he says with a frown, “I’ve seen lots of people in Atlanta wear winter coats.”
“Well, not me. I’ll be fine. Let’s just go inside.”
I’m irritated that I’m irritated again, and he looks like he’s given up on our truce and is irritated himself. Not that I blame him. He wasn’t being confrontational, but I came at him guns blazing.
Get it together, Finley.
He closes the hatch and I’m about to apologize when he gives me a pleading look. “Look, there’s a good chance my family is watching out the window. If they see you fall when I could be helping, I’ll get nothing but grief. Will you let me help you?”
His gentle tone eases the hurt in my heart, but I can’t help wondering if he’s only being kind because he feels like he has to. “Yeah,” I say more grudgingly than I intend.
Alex takes my arm to balance me, and we make our way up the snow-covered walk until we reach the front porch. Alex drops my arm, and as I stomp my feet to get the snow off, Alex walks over to a mat that looks like a doormat with rough bristles. He wipes the snow off the bottom of his shoes, then opens the heavy wooden and glass front door and gestures for me to go in.
I’m nervous, so I take a deep breath and walk through, not prepared for the greeting party waiting in the foyer. Thanks to Alex’s photos, I recognize them all. His parents are side by side in the center of the entryway. His father in jeans and a flannel shirt, and his mother in navy dress pants and light blue, button-down blouse. Mallory is standing next to her mother, wearing jeans and an ivory sweater. Tyler, next to his father, is also just wearing jeans with a black Henley. His brother Grant is missing, and obviously so is Eloise.
His mother and sister take me in, their expressions transforming from neutral to beaming. My worry that they would be arrogant and snobbish fly right out the window.
“Oh, my goodness, look at you! How was your trip?” his mom asks, then doesn’t give me time to respond before she says, “We’re so excited that you’re here!
“So excited!” Mallory says, looking like she genuinely means it. “I’ll have another girl in the midst of all these boys.”
“What about me?” Mrs. King asks with a laugh. “Last time I checked, I’m still a girl.”
“I meant someone close to my own age,” Mallory says, bumping her shoulder into her mother’s.
Alex sets my suitcase down on the black and white marble floor. “You and Grant said Eloise was coming,” he says carefully.
Mrs. King rolls her eyes. “Of course she is, but you know how she and Mallory get along.”
I give Mallory a questioning look and she makes a face. “Eloise can be a bit… temperamental.”
Alex hadn’t told me that part. Now I’m worried she’ll be upset that Alex and I stole her and Grant’s beds.
“Don’t worry about Eloise,” Mallory says. “She’s a lot of bark and no bite.”
If that was meant to ease my concerns, it only made them worse.
