Finley doesn’t fit that profile at all.
So, what was I thinking when I almost touched her? There’s no audience to convince that we’re together. Maybe it’s because last night felt a little too believable. Hell, I almost kissed her again when I helped her up from the sofa. Her body so close to mine, the firelight on her face—she’s so damn beautiful. And so damn sweet. She’s the kind of woman I never thought I’d want, but she brings out the me I used to be. The me I didn’t realize I missed.
Still, this isn’t real. She’s not interested in a relationship with me—especially after what she’s seen. She’s seen the narcissistic, arrogant side of me here. She’d be crazy to want me too.
God, I do want her, don’t I?
No, I can’t want her. I’m just too deep in the role, that’s all.
So maybe that’s why I planned this morning’s surprise. It’s part of our deal—she gets the Christmas she’s always dreamed of. I’m just making sure she gets what she signed up for.
At least that’s the story I’m sticking to.
I slip out of bed and pause at the door. She’s still curled up, peaceful, her hair spilling over the pillow. Something twists in my chest—something soft and unfamiliar. Tender. Maybe this is how a guy feels about a girl who’s just his friend.
The smell of coffee hits my nose as I walk downstairs to the kitchen. Dad’s sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.
He glances up at me and gives me a tired smile. “You’re up early.”
I head straight for the coffee maker and grab a mug from the cabinet above. “I thought Mom might be up.”
“She’s still sleeping, but I suspect she’ll be down soon.”
I fill my mug, then add creamer. After I put the container back in the fridge, I stand at the counter, my fingers wrapped around the mug, unsure what to do next.
“You can sit with me, Alex,” Dad says quietly, sadness softening his voice. “We can talk.”
I want to sit. God, I do. But being alone with him…. it’s like stepping back into that night six years ago—the night I called him in abject horror and grief.
My chest feels tight, and the walls feel like they’re closing in.
Dad must see that I’m about to bolt, because he turns in his chair to face me, his eyes pleading. “I think we need to talk, son. We’ve gone far too long without discussing?—”
I take a step back, a vise clamping my lungs. “I need to take a shower.”
Dad’s shoulders sag, defeat shadowing his face. “I wish you’d talk to me, Alex.” He lifts his chin. “I miss you.”
I miss him too. I miss all of them, but Dad is a living reminder of that night—the night I made the worst mistake of my life. I’ve stayed away all these years out of shame, terrified my family would uncover the truth. Time may have dulled the risk of discovery, but the shame hasn’t faded. It’s still there, festering.
Tyler thinks I’ve stayed away because I think I’m too good for them.
The truth is, I’m not good enough—for them or for anyone else
Finley’s face flashes in my mind, the way she looked sleeping this morning—soft, peaceful, unguarded. Someone who still believes the world can be good. Someone who deserves good.
And that’s not me.
“I wanted to ask Mom a question, but I’ll ask her later,” I spin around to bolt for the stairs, but Mom has just walked into the room.
She stares at me and then at Dad, obviously feeling the tension between us. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope,” I say, then lift my mug. “Just came down to get a cup of coffee before I hop in the shower.”
“Okay,” she says, sounding like she’s not sure she believes me.
“There is one other thing,” I say, lowering my voice, “Do we have any spare Christmas ornaments?”
Her forehead creases in confusion, then her face lights up when I tell her my plan for Finley. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” she assures me. “Mallory and I will have it under control.”
