Page 151 of My Favorite Holidate
When she reaches us and hands me her bouquet, a sense of calm washes over me. That might have something to do with the snow that’s falling just beyond the barn entrance and over the hills and through the woods.
I sneak a glance at Wilder and mouth, “Snow.”
“My favorite,”he mouths back.
Then I turn my focus to the bride and groom as they promise to love and cherish each other, and I swear when Wilder looks at me, I can see forever in his eyes.
It doesn’t scare me anymore.
Later that night after theI dosand the dinner and the first dance, the best man pulls me onto the dance floor when “Silver Bells” begins. As the music fills the rafters, I glance around. Bibi’s dancing with the sheriff, laughing and probably teasing him. He gazes at her like she’s hung the moon. It’s not “Blue Christmas,” the song she danced to with her husband, but it’s a new song for a new memory—a new Christmas to treasure.
They also won Evergreen Falls Annual Best in Snow Winter Games Competition. Once Brady was disqualified, Bibi and her new beau were next in line. The prize? A medal in the shape of a candy cane. Oh, also, a weekend-stay at a certain resort. Bibi said she’s looking forward to that, and she’s also working on picking her favorite charity for the donation Wilder promised he’d make on behalf of the winner.
Mom’s on the dance floor too, swaying with Julio to the music. Max and Everly dance together, and Josie and Wesley too. Maeve came to the wedding solo, but her good friend Asher popped by at the last minute as her plus one. He’s a hockey player too, and they’re dancing in the corner, and he seems enrapt in whatever she’s saying. But then, he always seems enrapt in Maeve.
When we swing past them, I catch the tail end of their conversation.
“So there’s this player auction coming up soon, and I can’t believe I’ve been roped into it,” he tells her.
“Yes, I know how much you hate it,” she says dryly.
“It’s the worst when everyone bids on me.”
“It’ll be so rough when you go for the most money.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he says, but he sounds too amused by Maeve.
We dance on, and the rest of their conversation fades into the night.
As for me, I’m caught up in this man who’s wearing the Santa cufflinks I made him. As I glance at them, I catch a view of the abstract ink peeking out on his wrists. I’ve never asked. “What’s your ink for?”
He smiles. “Various things.”
“Tell me,” I demand.
He pulls up the cuffs and shows me a swirling black line. “This is for trust,” he says, somewhat solemn. “I got it after college.”
“Your dream,” I say.
He meets my eyes. “Now my reality.”
My heart jumps. “Yes, it is our reality.”
He points to another. “This is for family,” he says, “I had it done for my mother.”
“That’s lovely.”
And there’s still one more—a tiny black cat. “This is for my daughter.”
“I love that,” I say. “It’s so very Mac.”
He glances toward his girl, who’s giggling with the table of cousins and friends, pointing to the cake table, eager to dig in, I’m sure. “It is.” He sighs contentedly. “She really cares for you. She wanted us to be together.”
“She knows best.”
“She does. She’s happy,” he says, proudly.
I know that. We told her earlier together that we’d worked it out and she’d pumped a fist and said, “Yes. Can we all do Christmas tomorrow together then?”