“Of course I do!”But Brookman’s eyes shift, darting to the side.“I just—I’ll have to look for it.But everyone knows it’s my display.Nobody will believe you.”
“Really?”Alexander’s smile is sharp.“Because I have a receipt proving the custom snowman display was purchased for and delivered to Bob Hartley three years ago.Completely legal.Completely traceable.I called the company, and they still have Bob’s name on file.They were more than happy to send me a copy of the receipt.”He pauses, his voice dropping to something deadly quiet.“So, please.Call the police.I’ll wait right here while you explain to them how you’re accusing someone of theft when you can’t prove ownership of the allegedly stolen property.”
Brookman stammers.“Y-you’re lying.”
“Am I?”Alexander’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s steel in his voice.“Go ahead.Make the call.I’m sure the authorities would be fascinated by your claims.Especially when I provide documentation of legitimate purchase while you fumble for a receipt that doesn’t exist.”The color drains from Brookman’s face.
“That’s enough, Danny!”A woman’s voice cuts through the tension.Mrs.Brookman storms across the lawn in her own fuzzy robe—pink with snowflakes—and grabs her husband by the ear.Literally grabs him by the ear, like he’s a misbehaving child.
“Ow!Linda!”
“I told you back then not to do it!”She starts dragging him backward.“But you never listen to me, do you?”
“Linda, let go?—”
“March!”She doesn’t release him, pulling him across the lawn like he weighs nothing.
“This isn’t over, Bob!”Brookman shouts over his shoulder, his face scrunched in pain.
“Hmph.”Dad crosses his arms, glaring after them with satisfaction.
The moment they’re out of earshot, Dad turns and looks up at the display again.His expression shifts from triumph to something softer, almost childlike in its wonder.“Son,” he says quietly to Alexander, his voice thick with emotion.“You did this for me?”
I wait for Alexander to correct the ‘son’ thing, but he doesn’t.Instead, he just nods.“Seemed like you needed an upgrade.”
Dad’s eyes glisten.“It’s perfect.It’s—” His voice cracks.“Thank you.”
Alexander claps him on the shoulder, and I watch something pass between them—some masculine understanding I don’t fully grasp but can feel the weight of.
Then Dad turns and pulls me into a crushing hug.“Your boy’s a keeper, Livie-girl.”Over his shoulder, I meet Alexander’s gaze.He’s watching me with that intensity that makes my stomach flip, that same heat from upstairs still simmering in his eyes.
‘A keeper.’If only Dad knew this was all pretend.
If only my racing heart would get the memo.
The snow falls in soft, lazy spirals as I walk down Main Street, my hands tucked into my coat pockets.It’s the kind of gentle snowfall that belongs on a Christmas card—delicate flakes catching the morning light, dusting the garlands and bells strung between lampposts.It’s been three days since we got here, yet everything already feels familiar.
Sophie woke early this morning, bleary-eyed but determined, and we went for our first run.Little chatterbox that she is, she kept it up the entire way.She didn’t really expect me to respond all the time, so I enjoyed listening to her.Most of the time she was bad mouthing Chase, and sometimes she was sharing stories Amber trying to upstage her sister.
It was interesting to learn that Bob’s brother chose to take his wife’s surname when he married into money.No wonder there is such an income disparity between the two families.Not that it matters to me, but listening to Sophie has hardened my resolve.
I don’t know if Amber stole Chase just because Olivia had him or if she is genuinely in love with him.I don’t care either way.As far as I’m concerned, she cleared the path for me.But I’m going to make sure Amber gets no further opportunity to humiliate Olivia.
I check my watch.I still have time for the appointment.
It’s remarkable I’ve not once opened my laptop since I got here, nor have I had the desire to do so.It sits untouched back at the Hartley house, and I’m sure emails have piled up despite me being on official vacation.The Alexander Castellano who left New York a week ago would have been unable to truly disconnect even when he’s supposed to.
But that Alexander hadn’t spent a morning decorating with Bob, or learned a Christmas folk song from Carol as she made breakfast, or felt Sophie loop her arm through his like he’s actually her brother.That Alexander hadn’t been welcomed into a family’s fold so completely that it felt like his first real Christmas.
This is the first day I’ve been alone in Silverbell Hollow, and the quiet is oddly strange.
Olivia left an hour ago with her mother and Sophie, heading to Asheville for what Carol called “mandatory girl time.”She’d been a little reluctant to leave me to my own devices, but her father and I are planning to go tree shopping this afternoon, so that sort of pacified her.
Now, walking through downtown Silverbell Hollow with snow dusting my shoulders, I have business to attend to.Business that requires Olivia to be far, far away.
My phone rings.
The screen lights up with “Mom,” and my good mood evaporates like steam in cold air.
