“Come on.Let’s go home.”I take Sophie’s schoolbag only for Alexander to pluck it from my hands.
As Sophie walks between the two of us, I catch her glancing at Alexander, a curious look in her eyes.She never liked Chase despite growing up around him.Sophie has always been astute.Maybe she saw something I didn’t.
It doesn’t matter at this point.It’s been a year since I saw my family.I don’t want to let Amber and Chase ruin it for me.
I sling my arm around Sophie’s neck pulling her into me as we walk, murmuring, “I really did miss you, you little brat.”
She beams up at me.“I missed you more.”
Looking down at her sweet face, I recall Alexander’s question of whether or not I miss my home.At times like this, I guess I do.
* * *
My bosssoon learns that my family is very chaotic.Dad’s already home when we get back with Sophie, and while Sophie disappears into her bedroom, my father decides to clear a space in the living room for the tree.I’m exhausted at this point and can barely keep my eyes open as Alexander and my father move furniture around.
Dad’s like a drill sergeant when Christmas rolls around.Everything has to be perfect.Well, now Dad has met his match in Alexander—both are perfectionists down to their bones.From my perch in the armchair, I watch them debate the optimal configuration for our furniture to accommodate “the perfect tree.”
“The couch should be angled toward the fireplace,” Alexander insists, hands on his hips like he’s reviewing architectural plans rather than my parents’ modest living room.“That way, when you’re sitting, the tree is perfectly framed by the window.”
Dad nods thoughtfully.“You’ve got a good eye, son.But what about traffic flow from the kitchen?Carol will be bringing in hot cocoa and cookies constantly.It’s not Christmas without hot cocoa and cookies.”
I curl deeper into the armchair as they continue strategizing, their voices mixing with “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” playing on the ancient radio in the kitchen.My eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of travel, confronting Chase and Amber, and the constant tension of pretending with Alexander finally catching up to me.
“Look at Livie.She’s out like a light,” I hear Dad say, his voice warm with affection.“She must be tired from the trip.”
I want to protest that I’m awake, but my body betrays me as I drift deeper into sleep.I vaguely register the front door opening, Mom’s cheerful greeting, something about dinner, but I can’t muster the energy to respond.
Then strong arms slide beneath me, lifting me with surprising gentleness.I instinctively curl against a solid chest as Alexander picks me up.
“I’ve got her,” Alexander’s voice rumbles, the vibration against my cheek oddly comforting.
Someone—Mom, probably—murmurs something about “how sweet” and “perfect together,” but I’m already sinking back into darkness.
* * *
It’sdark when I wake up.For a moment, I can’t remember where I am.It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m not in my Manhattan apartment but in my childhood bedroom.Then I feel it: warm breath against my forehead, a heavy arm draped over my waist, and a leg tangled between mine.
Holy.Shit.
My body goes rigid with panic.There’s someone in my bed.There’s a man in my bed.
Eyes widening, I’m about to scream when I feel the arm tighten around me.Lifting my head slightly, I find myself face-to-face with a sleeping Alexander Castellano.My head rests on his bicep, and we’re so close I can count his eyelashes.
My heart races wildly.Why is he in my bed?My pulse thunders in my ears as I try to process the situation.I try to shift away, but Alexander’s arm tightens around my waist in his sleep, pulling me closer against his chest.I freeze, not daring to breathe.
I’m still wearing my clothes, thank god, but Alexander...
Oh, god.Alexander isn’t wearing a shirt.
Panic floods me anew as I realize I can feel bare skin beneath my fingertips where they rest against his chest.If he’s not wearing a shirt, what else might he not be wearing?My heart pounds as I carefully lift the blanket, peering underneath.
Relief washes over me—He’s wearing sweatpants.Dark ones that sit low on his hips, but pants nonetheless.I drop the blanket and take a steadying breath.
“Find what you were looking for?”his sleep-rough voice asks, amused, making me nearly jump out of my skin.
“I thought you were asleep!”I hiss, mortified.
“I was,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.“Until someone started checking me out under the blanket.”
