Scrooge

19. Alexander

19

ALEXANDER

I have no idea what I have done. I have no idea of my name or even where I am, other than the woman in my arms feels amazing and I never want to let her go.

“Alright, alright, we get it. You can stop now. Jeez, that almost looked real,” her sister sasses, and we pull apart. I keep Haylee close, not yet ready to release her. She is a little breathless, looking up at me, wide-eyed, confused, shocked, and I dare say, she is seeing the exact same emotions on my face. I always had plans to propose today. I even researched what to say, having never thought about it before. But when the moment arrived, I wasn’t sure I should. Sitting here at this intimate family dinner, her parents watching on, it was so genuine that I didn’t want to tarnish it with any fakeness. But… we have an agreement, and so I went for it. Then when I got down on one knee, it all became very, very real, and now, with the taste of her on my lips and the feel of her in my arms, the lines have officially blurred. That is something I don’t have time to process right now.

“Sorry,” Haylee says, to me or her sister, I am not sure.

“It’s all good. I took a photo so you can post it to socials,” Jillian quips, and I see Haylee blink a few times, almost like she is coming out of a trance. I loosen my hold on her, and she lowers back down to her feet, but I keep one hand around her back, still needing to touch her in some way.

Jillian thrusts the phone to us, and I look over Haylee’s shoulder and see the photo. Me on one knee, the big diamond extended, the look of shock on Haylee’s face. But that is not what makes me pause. It is the look on my face. The one that is purely happy, stress free, entirely in the moment. The wrinkle that I usually have between my eyebrows is nonexistent. I have never seen myself look like that ever—I have never felt like that ever. So… content.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it!” Haylee’s mom, Wendy, says, pacing back to the table with a bottle of champagne that looks like it has been stored in her cupboard for the better part of a few decades.

“Jillian, don’t just sit there, get the glasses,” Wendy scolds her older daughter, and Jillian huffs before standing and grabbing some glasses from a nearby cabinet.

My heart pounds as I see her father looking at me, and I roll my shoulders back. Haylee’s face pales when he walks back into the room, regret filling my bones that I didn’t ask him for permission. The thought I disappointed him runs through my mind, and I hate it.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says, and I give him a small nod as I squeeze Haylee’s middle, needing her to anchor me.

“Open the bottle,” Wendy tells him with a wave of her hands. She is now flustered as Haylee’s father rips the foil from the bottle.

“You alright?” Haylee asks me quietly, as her dad and Jillian pour the glasses of champagne. I look down at her, grabbing her hand and lifting it, and we both look at the ring. It is a monster. I have no idea about diamonds, but I wanted it to be big, and even though the price was astronomical, I didn’t hesitate for her.

“I’m good,” I assure her, keeping a hold of her hand, and I see her swallow roughly. Our kiss was intense. She is a very good actress because it felt real. It was real. For me, at least. But as her father hands us each a glass of champagne, I feel bereft that it is all fake.

“Congratulations. You have our blessing, and we look forward to welcoming you to the family, Alex,” he says kindly. I should have asked his permission. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to go through with it, but when I got here, saw her painting, was made welcome by her and her family, it just felt like the right time. Now I wish I had asked him beforehand. Made it right. Traditional. But even though I didn’t ask, I’m glad I have his approval.

“Yes! Oh gosh, so exciting,” Wendy gushes, and we all lift our glasses and cheers before taking a sip. I hear Jillian groan before I see Haylee spit her mouthful back into her glass, and I swallow mine quickly before I cough.

“Oh, oh no…” Wendy says, her face souring as she looks at her husband. “I think we left that one too long, dear.”

“Anyway!” She claps, a wide smile back on her face. “Let’s get some photos in front of the fire!”

Jillian rolls her eyes, and Haylee gives her mom a soft smile.

“Sounds great, Mom,” Haylee says, sounding less than enthusiastic about it as she steps away from the table, holding my hand and leading me to the living room, where the kids have already taken up residence, finding our celebrations too boring.

We stand in front of the fire, and I snake my arm around her waist as the others all grab their phones and get ready.

“You alright?” I ask her, wondering where her head is at.

“You could have warned me,” she says, and I look down at her, spotting her biting her lip.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I admit. “Do you like it?” I ask, because I have never purchased jewelry for a woman before, but I would hope that she does.

“It’s beautiful. Heavy.” Putting her hand out, looking at the rock that now adorns her finger, I suck in a breath. It feels good to have put it there.

“Smile, you two!” Wendy coos, and we both straighten, our smiles instant.

“So, this will probably make the media a little crazy?” she asks, and heaviness settles in my stomach. Again, I hadn’t thought about that.

“Probably. Just use Dan. I’ll have security at the shop tomorrow,” I tell her, wanting to alleviate her fears, and she looks at me like she is trying to figure me out.

“What?” I ask, hearing her mom and dad chattering while still taking photos of us.

“Nothing… just… I think your nickname is starting to have less meaning.”

I think about her words as I take in the sweet and nervous look on her face. Like she might have been afraid to say anything about my nickname again after the last time.

“Really? What should my nickname be now?” I ask her, keen to hear her thoughts, and as she smiles wide, I know I’ve said the right thing.

“Fiancé,” she says with pride, and I smile, something I now do more and more around her.

“Yours,” I add, nodding. I feel too good about that. Being her fiancé, being hers. And it only feels better when I watch her smile grow, her eyes brighten, that happiness aimed right at me.

“There. I put it up on the Tucker Toys Instagram and sent a photo to Laurent. You can thank me later,” Jillian says, smirking. I feel Haylee tense, and I frown.

“Jillian,” Haylee moans.

“What? You want the whole world to know, right? To see how in love you both are?” she presses, and I don’t like the vibe. She knows all about our situation, yet still looks at me like she wants to gut me.

“It’s fine. Right, darling?” Haylee asks me, not sounding like herself.

“It’s fine, Sunflower. Laurent will handle things,” I murmur to her, hoping she feels at ease, knowing the minute the media sees that image, which they will in approximately five minutes, that it will go viral.

“Great!” Her father claps his hands. “Let's get ready,” he says, and everyone nods and starts to move.

“Uh, ready?” I ask Haylee as the kids jump up and gather their coats, her mom rushes around, packing up the kitchen, and her father turns off the TV and grabs a few things.

“We need to find Deloris,” Haylee tells me, walking to the door and grabbing a scarf.

“Deloris? Bag of dicks Deloris?” I ask, confused.

“Yes,” Haylee says as Jillian walks back toward us and snorts a laugh, before putting coats on the kids.

“Do we have to…” her son whines.

“Yes. We haven’t seen her and it is Thanksgiving.” Jillian is short with her reply.

“But it is starting to snow!” he says, prompting us all to look out the windows. He is right; light flurries are now visible, and we all pause to take it in.

“The first snowfall of the season,” Haylee says, smiling as she looks outside in awe, and I smile at seeing her face light up this way. I wonder if I can take her to the French Alps and watch her smile at the window like that daily.

“It will be here when we get back,” her father says, he and Wendy now joining us at the door as we put on our coats.

“Haylee, you and Alex take the shelters,” he commands, and Haylee nods, ready to go. “Jillian, you and the kids come with us. We will look at the parks, the bakery, and the train station.”

Everyone nods like this is a familiar thing they do.

“We will meet back here in two hours. But keep your phones on,” Wendy says, grabbing a scarf and throwing it around her neck. And then we file out of the house like an army.

“Uh, what is going on?” I ask Haylee, the two of us walking down the front path to my car as her family veers off to the side to jump in a large station wagon that looks like it came directly from the nineties.

“Usually for Thanksgiving, we eat early and then go and volunteer at the nearby shelters or food banks for the afternoon. But no one has seen Deloris in weeks and we are all worried,” she explains as we get to my car.

“It’s snowing,” I say, seeing snowflakes now sitting on her hair. The dusty white speckles lightly coat her shoulders and the ground around us.

“It’s beautiful, right?” Her shoulders lift in a shrug and her grin grows.

You’re beautiful .

“You really love it, don’t you?” I say as I lift my hand and sweep my fingers gently over her flushed cheek, pushing her hair behind her ear, looking at the way the quickly melting white flakes sparkle against her dark hair and thick lashes.

“It’s the best,” she whispers, and I look down at her, the air around us cool, snow falling, the street quiet, making this whole day feel a lot more magical.

“You look good in the snow,” I tell her honestly. My eyes roam down her body and back up, seeing her thick, mismatched yellow and orange knitted scarf around her neck and in complete contrast to the pink winter coat she has on.

“I feel like a marshmallow,” she says, laughing at herself.

“A cute marshmallow,” I tell her, wondering if that off champagne her father served us poisoned my brain and turned it to mush because I am never this soft with anyone.

“Is this your car?” she asks, breaking our connection, and I take a breath and roll my shoulders, getting my head back into the game.

“One of.”

Her eyebrows rise at that, and I open the door and let her glide in. A car collection is another thing I have but rarely use. Today, I drove my black G-Wagon, thinking it would be the most appropriate choice for the suburbs. I look at my team still sitting in their car behind mine, watching us intently, having not been briefed on any such movement.

“Let me just tell the team what we are doing,” I say and close her door, keeping her warm in the car as I walk back to tell the team behind me of our plans.

Looks like we are going on an excursion to find Deloris. Through the back streets of Jersey.