I give her a wan smile. “Finley’s cold and tired, so I’m going to take her home.”
Finley gasps at my declaration. Mallory’s eyes darken, and now she’s literally tapping her foot.
Mallory turns to Finley. “Whose idea was it for you to go home?” she demands.
Finley looks torn between loyalty and truth. Her hesitation is all the fuel Mallory needs.
“You shithead.” Mallory’s outrage lands like a slap.
“What?” I say, playing innocent. “What did I do?”
“You don’t want to be here and you’re trying to convince her to go home so you don’t look bad for bailing.” Mallory snaps. She turns back to Finley, eyebrows up. “Do you want to go home?”
When Finley looks to me for a cue, Mallory slides in front of me and blocks her view.
“Don’t look at him,” she orders, in full Momma-Bear mode. “Look at me. Do you want to go home?”
Finley hesitates, then asks, “How much longer do you think this will last? Maybe Alex is tired.”
Mallory shakes her head and swivels back to me. “Go home. She’ll stay with us.”
“She’s my girlfriend, Mallory,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I meant. Why do I feel panicked at the idea of leaving her alone. What do I think will happen? A rogue reindeer will charge up the sidewalk? A pack of disgruntled elves will jump out of a snowbank? A gang of teen boys will heckle her?
Mallory’s face goes even darker. She jabs her finger at my chest. “Last time I checked, that doesn’t make her your property. If she wants to stay, she can stay.”
No doubt it’s going to look bad if I go back without her, but damned if I’m singing carols for another half hour or more. Especially when watching her like this—so open, so happy—is messing with my head.
“It’s okay,” Finley says, sounding defeated. “We can go back.”
Mallory stomps her foot, balling her fists at her side. “Finley,” she says through gritted teeth, “are you ready to go home right now? Because there’s no reason you need to go back too.”
Finley sneaks a glance to me, then says, “I want to stay.”
“Then it’s settled.” Mallory’s smug glare lands like a dare. “Alexander, why don’t you call Dad and get started on making that hot chocolate?”
Dammit. Why didn’t I come up with that excuse? “Yeah,” I say, a bit too bright. “That was my plan. To warm Finley up.”
Mallory gives a slow, skeptical nod. “Riiiight.” Then she tries to shepherd Finley away, but my girlfriend stays rooted in place, scanning my face as she asks, “Mallory, can you give us a moment?”
My sister looks torn, then says, “Don’t let the fun killer change your mind.”
“Fun killer?” I vehemently protest. “You weren’t even planning on coming until Finley did.”
Mallory flips me off and moves about ten feet away.
I turn to Finley, expecting to see her guilt-ridden face. Instead, there’s a fire in her eyes.
“What is this all about?” she demands.
Oh, shit. She’d warned me she wasn’t a pushover. Still, I plan to plead innocent. “What are you talking about?”
“If you want to go home, Alex, you don’t need to coerce me into going with you. I’m a grown-ass woman. I can take care of myself, especially since I’m with your mom and sister.” She lowers her voice. “Besides, I never expected you to babysit me all week.”
I pause. There’s no way I’m admitting Tyler will roast me if go back alone, but my hesitation stokes her anger.
“Do you think I’m going to embarrass you if you’re not here to keep an eye on me?”
My eyes fly wide. “What? No—why would you say that?”
