Page 126 of My Favorite Holidate

And so is the end of this afternoon, since a little later the three of us win and come together in a group hug.

The theme of the tree-decorating competition sticks with me later that evening when we’re back in our cabin. Wilder’s lounging on the couch, listening to a podcast, while I gather up the red and green glitter dick T-shirts I brought so I can head to Charlotte’s cabin for a little bachelorette party. All of my best friends are here, and I’m lucky like that—to be surrounded by people who make me feel like I’m home.

An idea starts to form as I drop the shirts in a bag, but my focus turns elsewhere when Wilder sits ramrod straight and stares at his phone, then me. He whispers cautiously, “It’s a text. From my dad.”

“What did he say?” I ask desperately as Wilder hits stop on the podcast.

His eyes are sad, but his lips curve up slightly. “He says he’s sorry to worry me. And that he’s okay.” He pauses, then adds, “And that’s all.”

“Maybe it’s enough?” I sit down with him on the couch, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe.”

I don’t know if Wilder feels reassured from the text, but he covers my hand with his and says, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say, meaning it in a whole new way, hoping to find the courage to tell him sometime soon how I feel.

I glance at the time. I should go and meet my friends, but the idea is crystallizing. Today, I felt like I was home for the holidays, but what about people like his father, whether it’s from their own doing or not, who don’t have this warm, cozy embrace of family and home at this time of year? What about children and families who don’t have all…this? Chalets and lights, seven-layer bars and movie evenings? Those who are fighting just to keep the lights on rather than to decorate with them?

“Wilder?” I begin.

“Yes?”

“What if we make some time tomorrow to wrap presents for kids who don’t have them? To buy and to wrap,” I clarify.

His smile is warm. “Let’s do that. I’ll find a local organization and set something up.”

That’s so very him to jump right in.

Wilder joins Mac and her friends and cousins along with his sister for a movie while Charlotte and I catch up withour girlfriends. We wear the glitter dick T-shirts, pour champagne, and indulge in the most fantastic charcuterie board that Josie has put together. It’s low-key by bachelorette party standards but that’s what Charlotte wanted—just some time with friends before her big day in two more nights.

We toast several times and when it’s my turn I lift my flute high. “To the eggnog spiller. She is the queen!”

Everyone clinks and says, “Long may she reign!”

Charlotte’s eyes fill with pride and happiness. “I swear it was an accident.”

Josie nods, exaggerated. “Say that in court. You nailed it.”

“I will,” Charlotte says, then lifts a glass my way. “A toast to my sister who means the world to me. And who’s helped make this holiday into the best Christmas ever.”

That’s what I’ve always wanted for her. I pull her into a hug, grateful I told her the truth the first night here, and grateful, too, for all these new Christmas memories that we’re making.

The party winds down around eleven, and I return to the honeymoon cabin, looking around at the fireplace, the twinkling tree, and the sleigh bed. It’s just me in this quiet suite. Wilder’s not here, but a text on my phone says he’s having a scotch out on the deck with Leo and will be back soon.

Perfect timing, since I just thought of a special gift for him.

I know my way around a string of lights after all.

41

THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE

Wilder

It’s never a bad time hanging out with Leo and enjoying a glass of scotch as the stars wink on and off in the inky night sky. You can see forever here in Evergreen Falls, far away from the city. But when the telltale signs of snow—a pinkish-orange tint to the night—burn brighter, I start to wonder if Fable is back in the room and if the bachelorette party has ended. The answer comes when Leo looks at his phone then turns to me with a grin. “I’ve been summoned.”

And that answers that. “Then you should go.” I glance at the empty tumblers. “I’ll take them in.”