I don’t know what to say to that.I don’t know how to process the way my heart is racing, the way every word from his mouth feels too real, too much like something I want desperately to believe.
Mom’s footsteps approach the back room, and Alexander immediately steps back, putting respectful distance between us.When she appears in the doorway, her expression is somber, worried.
“Honey,” she says quietly, looking at me.“Are you okay?”
Alexander gives my hand one last squeeze before releasing it completely.“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he says, his voice back to that professional tone.He slips past Mom, heading back into the main shop, and I’m left standing there feeling like the ground just shifted beneath my feet.
I’m deep asleep when I feel the mattress shift.The warmth against my side disappears, and my body instinctively reaches for it, finding only cold sheets.Bathroom, I think groggily, burrowing deeper into the covers.
But minutes pass.Five.Then ten.
I crack one eye open, squinting at the empty space beside me.The covers are pulled back neatly, like he tried not to disturb me.The room is dark except for the faint glow of Christmas lights from the neighbor’s house filtering through the curtains.
Where is he?
I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and that’s when I hear it—the soft click of the front door opening.
My eyebrows furrow, and I swing my legs out of bed, padding barefoot to the window that overlooks the front yard.The cold floor sends a shiver up my spine as I press my face against the glass.
A massive truck idles a few houses down, its engine a low rumble in the quiet night.No headlights.Just shadows and the faint outline of figures moving in the darkness.
And Alexander—unmistakably Alexander—is walking toward it.
What is he up to?
Curiosity overrides common sense.I grab the first clothes I can find—yesterday’s jeans and an oversized sweatshirt—and yank them on.My fingers fumble with the zipper as I hurry downstairs, too intrigued to go back to sleep.
The front door is unlocked.I slip outside, the December air biting at my exposed skin.Frost crunches under my sneakers as I cross the yard, my breath clouding in front of me.
The truck’s back doors are open.Two men in dark clothes move quietly, lifting something large and rectangular from the cargo bed.They work without speaking, just the occasional grunt of effort as they maneuver the bulky crate.Alexander stands nearby, his hands in his pockets, overseeing the operation.
Money changes hands—crisp bills in the moonlight.
“What are you doing?”I ask, not bothering to whisper.Alexander’s shoulders tense.He turns slowly, and even in the darkness, I can see the disappointment etched across his features.His jaw tightens.
“You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he says, his voice low and resigned.
“Well, I did.”I cross my arms against the cold, tilting my head with interest.“What’s going on?Why is there a truck in front of my house at—” I glance at my phone.“—twelve-thirty in the morning?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair.It’s messy from sleep, sticking up in ways it never does during the day, and I hate that I notice.Hate that I find it endearing.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he mutters, actual frustration in his voice.
I move closer, peering around him at the crate the men are carefully maneuvering.“A surprise?For who?”
“Why did you wake up?”he asks instead of answering, his eyes searching mine in the darkness.The truth sits on my tongue, dangerous and revealing: I woke up because you weren’t there.Because the bed felt too empty without you.
My face burns despite the cold night air.“I just—I woke up.That’s all.”I step past him, trying to see what they’re unloading.“Now are you going to tell me what this is, or do I have to guess?”Before he can answer, one of the men jimmies open the crate with a crowbar.The sides fall away with barely a sound, and?—
My breath catches.
Thousands of LED bulbs arranged in the most spectacular Christmas display I’ve ever seen.A massive Santa sits in an ornate sleigh, one hand waving, the other holding golden reins.Nine reindeer are frozen mid-leap, their antlers glittering with tiny white lights.The sleigh overflows with wrapped presents in reds and golds and silvers, each one detailed and perfect.
It’s enormous.The kind of display that belongs in a mall or a theme park, not a suburban front yard.
My mouth falls open.
“Alexander,” I breathe, spinning to face him.“This is?—”
