Alexander steps towards me, his hand rising to cup my cheek.“You were loyal to him.Loyalty is a gift.He never deserved you.I knew it from the day I first saw him.You were too smart, too clever, too ambitious for him.He couldn’t stand it.You deserve better.But he will pay for cheating on you.That’s my promise to you.”
I cover his hand on my cheek with my own, whispering, “Why’re you going this far for me?”
His smile is enigmatic, and he leans down to brush his lips against my forehead, his voice a thread of a whisper: “I have my reasons.”
“Alexander…” I trail off, unable to say the words, to ask the question that is on my lips.
“I enjoyed myself this morning,” Alexander says, changing the topic as he starts walking again.“Setting up the decorations with him was an enlightening experience.”
I swallow before hurrying over to catch up with him.I glance at his profile and ignore the way my heart just skips a beat.“You asked about Chase.”I look away.“He and Dad didn’t get along.Chase didn’t like how eager Dad was about Christmas.He called it juvenile.”The words taste bitter on my tongue, dredging up memories I’d rather not examine.“His parents are both doctors, successful ones, and I think...I think he looked down on Dad a bit.The small-town plumber who got excited about inflatable snowmen and perfectly spaced icicle lights.”
I pause.“Dad only tolerated him for my sake.He was always polite, always welcoming, but there was this distance between them I pretended not to notice.”
“But your father was happy this morning,” Alexander says quietly, and there’s something gentle in his voice that makes my chest tighten.
“Yeah.”My throat feels tight with unexpected emotion.“He was.Really happy.It was nice to see him like that.He tried to get Chase involved in the family Christmas stuff, but Chase always made excuses.But you?Dad adores you, and it’s only been two days now.”
“I’m glad.”His voice is warm, genuine.“I like your father.I think I might just learn a thing or two from him.”
I glance up at him, surprised.“Really?”He just smiles.My heart squeezes painfully, and without thinking, I beam at him.“I hope you stay like this after we go back to New York.I like this side of you.”
“Do you?”The single word is careful, searching, and when I look up at him, I realize he’s completely serious.There’s uncertainty in his eyes, as if my answer actually matters to him.The intensity in his gaze makes my pulse skip and my mouth go dry, so I do what I always do when Alexander gets too close to something real—I change the subject.
“Look,” I point ahead to where vendors are setting up stands and booths inside the town square.“They’re preparing for this weekend.”
Alexander follows my gesture, studying the bustling activity with interest.“This weekend?”
“The Holly and Ivy Festival,” I explain, unable to keep the nostalgia from my voice.“There’s a parade, live music, food trucks, dancing.It starts Sunday at noon with the Holly and Ivy Race.As soon as the race is over, the stalls for the Christmas Market open.Town square will be completely transformed with these European-style stalls selling crafts and treats.It runs all the way through Christmas Eve.”My smile softens.
“Race, you say?”His eyebrow arches.
“Everyone wears the tackiest, most ridiculous Christmas sweater they can find, and we all run through town.There are prizes for the ugliest sweater, the best runner, the most creative theme.”My smile falters slightly.“It’s tradition.I used to participate every year.”
“What’s stopping you now?”The question is so simple, so direct, that it catches me off guard.
I hesitate, feeling stupid even as I say it.“It’s a couple’s race.Chase and I used to do it together.It was our thing.We’d spend weeks finding the perfect matching ugly sweaters, planning our strategy, making it this whole production.”
“Then we’ll do it together.”He says it like it’s already decided, like there’s no other possible outcome.
I stop walking, pulling us both to a halt as I stare up at him.“You don’t have an ugly Christmas sweater.”
“Then let’s go find one.”His smile is slow and devastating, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Are you serious?”I can hear the disbelief in my own voice.“You want to participate in the Holly and Ivy Race?You, Alexander Castellano, CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, want to wear a tacky Christmas sweater and run through a small town in North Carolina?”
His smile widens, and he leans closer, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my stomach flip and my knees weak.“Why not?I’m on vacation, remember?And besides—” His eyes lock with mine, intense and unwavering.“—I’m not letting Chase have any claim on your traditions.Not anymore.”
God help me, but my traitorous heart does a full somersault in my chest, and I have to remind myself to breathe.This is just part of the act.He’s just being thorough like he is in everything he does.He’s helping me move on from Chase, nothing more.
But the way he’s looking at me right now doesn’t feel like pretend.
“Come on,” he says, already steering us toward the shops lining Main Street.“Let’s go find the ugliest Christmas sweaters Silverbell Hollow has to offer.”
As we walk, his hand slides from my elbow down to my hand, fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that feels far too natural.His palm is warm against mine, his grip firm and sure, and I find myself not wanting to let go.
* * *
The bellabove the door chimes cheerfully as we step into Second Chances Thrift & Treasures, and I immediately feel myself relax.This place has always been my sanctuary—the smell of old books, the soft glow of fairy lights wound through exposed beams, the gentle ringing of vintage ornaments hanging from the ceiling.
