For six years, I’ve watched her.Waited.Told myself I was being patient, strategic, when really I was just terrified she’d never look at me the way I looked at her.And now she’s mine.Finally, actually mine.My heart hasn’t stopped racing since she held out her hand.
“Alexander.”
The voice is quiet.I turn my head and see Mom standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside.She’s wrapped in the cashmere shawl Carol lent her earlier, her dark hair slightly mussed from the celebration.
“It’s cold,” I say, turning back to face the yard.“You should go inside.”
Her heels click against the porch boards, then she’s lowering herself beside me, arranging her skirt before settling on the step.We sit the same way—feet on the bottom step, knees raised, arms resting across them.It’s oddly symmetrical, like looking in a mirror that shows me thirty years into the future.
“Olivia is a wonderful girl,” she says quietly.I don’t respond.Just watch the lights blink their patterns across the snow.
“Your father always said you liked her,” Mom continues.“I never believed it.”
Something sharp lodges in my chest.“Dad always knew me better than you did.”The words come out a little distant, but they’re true.They’ve always been true.
Silence stretches between us, filled only by the faint sound of laughter from inside and the faint hum of Christmas lights.I can feel her looking at me, and part of me wants to stand up and walk away.Walk away before I say something I can’t take back.
“You’re right,” she says finally, so soft I almost miss it.
I turn to look at her.She’s staring straight ahead, her profile caught in the warm glow spilling from the windows.There’s something in her expression I’m not used to seeing, something that looks almost like regret.
“Why did you track me down all the way out here?”I ask.“Where are Marcus, Dominic, and Julian?It’s a few days before Christmas.Shouldn’t you be with them?”
“They’re spending Christmas with their friends.”She adjusts the shawl around her shoulders.“Your Dad and I wanted to spend this Christmas with you, so we let them make other plans.”
My shoulders relax.Having my brothers here would have been chaotic in the worst way possible.
My mother says wistfully, “I’ve been watching you, tonight.The way you are with Carol and Bob.With Sophie.”She pauses, and when she speaks again, her voice is smaller.“I’m a little jealous.”
I raise an eyebrow.“Jealous.”
“They get to see this side of you.”She gestures vaguely.“You’re warm, loving, affectionate.I don’t remember the last time you smiled at me, Alexander.”
My jaw tightens as I feel a hint of guilt.I bury it.“They’ve treated me like family.”
“And we haven’t?”
I start to stand, ready to escape this conversation, but her hand shoots out and catches my wrist.Not hard, just firm enough to make me pause.
“Alexander, please.Sit.”
I should pull away.Should walk back inside and find Olivia, wrap myself in the uncomplicated joy of this night.But something in Mom’s voice—something raw and almost desperate—makes me sink back onto the step.
“You don’t give us the opportunity,” she says quietly.“To treat you like family.”
Anger flares in my chest.“I don’t give you the opportunity?”
“You shut us out, honey.You have for years.”
“That’s because you shut me out first.”The words rip free before I can stop them, years of carefully controlled resentment spilling over.“The minute Dad got successful, you got a do-over chance with my brothers.And you left me out.”
Mom’s face goes slack with shock.She stares at me like I’ve slapped her.“Honey, I never left you out.”
“Yes, you did.”I’m looking straight ahead now, jaw tight.“You bought them everything they wanted.Skating lessons and ski trips and private schools.You included them in everything.And me?”I shake my head.“You’d ask if I wanted to come, but it was always an afterthought.Like you knew I’d say no, so you didn’t really care if I did.”
“That’s not—” She stops, pressing her lips together.When she speaks again, her voice is thick.“Alexander, you never had time for us.You locked yourself in your room.You were obsessed with making money, with your company.By the time you were seventeen, you were already thinking like a CEO.We didn’t know how to reach you.”
“You could have tried harder.”The words hang in the cold air between us, sharp and unforgiving.
