As we sat there in his parents’ living room, surrounded by people who loved us and were obviously thrilled about our romantic revelation, I knew that this was exactly what happiness felt like. Not the adrenaline rush of career success or the satisfaction of professional achievement, but the warm certainty of being exactly where I belonged with exactly the right person.
“So,” I said, settling back on the sofa with obvious satisfaction, “I guess this means we’re staying in Everdale Falls.”
“Together,” Declan added, like he was making sure we were both clear on the terms of our mutual life plan.
“Together,” I agreed, and the word felt like a promise and a declaration and the beginning of everything I’d been too afraid to hope for.
“Well,” Mom said, “I suppose this means we need to include three extra people for Christmas dinner. We can’t have it without the whole family.”
The whole family. It sounded… blissful.
“Should I be worried,” Declan asked quietly, “that our parents are already planning our lives more efficiently than we ever did?”
“Definitely,” I said with amusement. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. They seem to have pretty good ideas about what makes us happy.”
“Better ideas than we did,” Declan agreed. “At least they never suggested moving to Chicago.”
“Or New York,” I added.
“Though they are suggesting shared Christmas dinners and buying properties in King’s Walk,” Declan pointed out. “That’s almost as terrifying as long-distance relationships.”
“Almost,” I agreed, though what I was thinking was that shared Christmas dinners and buying houses sounded exactly like the kind of happily ever after I’d been secretly hoping for.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Declan said, turning to face me with mock seriousness.
“What?”
“We’re going to have to coordinate next year’s Christmas festival together,” he said gravely. “Officially. As a couple. With everyone watching and taking bets on when the wedding is.”
“Terrifying,” I said solemnly, though I was grinning as I said it.
“Absolutely terrifying,” Declan agreed. “Are you up for it?”
“I think I can handle coordinating Christmas festivals with you,” I said, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I might even be good at it.”
“You’ll be amazing at it,” Declan said against my lips. “We’ll be amazing at it.”
As our parents launched into enthusiastic discussion of holiday meal planning, house buying timelines, and what sounded suspiciously like preliminary wedding venue research, I knew that some love stories didn’t end with dramaticdeclarations or grand romantic gestures. Some love stories ended with Christmas dinner plans and shared domestic futures and the quiet certainty that you’d found the person you wanted to coordinate festivals with for the rest of your life. And if that person happened to be your brother’s best friend who made you laugh and challenged you to be braver and kissed you like you were the most important thing in his world, well, that was just the kind of Christmas miracle that made small-town romance stories worth believing in. Even if those stories came with parental interference, community surveillance, and the ongoing challenge of maintaining professional dignity while falling in love in front of everyone you’d ever known.
Some challenges, I was learning, were definitely worth rising to meet. Especially when they came with promises of shared Christmas mornings and a lifetime of inappropriate public make-out sessions that would probably keep Bernie in newspaper material for decades. But as I sat there in Declan’s arms, listening to our parents plan our future with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for major home improvement projects, I knew that I was finally ready for all of it. The love, the commitment, the small-town scrutiny, and yes, even the parental interference that came with building a life with someone in a place where everyone had known you since you were born and had opinions about your romantic choices.
As it turned out, I’d gladly endure every raised eyebrow and whispered comment in Everdale Falls for this—for his hand in mine, for Christmas mornings yet to come, for the quiet certainty that had settled in my chest where doubt used to live. Everything before Declan now seemed like a first draft, like I’d been rehearsing lines for a play I didn’t know I’d been cast in.
Thirty-Three
DECLAN
Last Day & New Beginnings
Festival Day3 dawned with the kind of perfect winter morning that made you believe Christmas magic was real and that small-town Vermont had been specifically designed by someone with a deep appreciation for holiday romance. The snow was falling in gentle flakes that looked like they’d been choreographed for maximum romantic effect, the town square was bustling with families enjoying the final day of festivities, and I was standing beside Holly, drinking coffee, feeling more content than I had in years, and more frustrated. Any idea we might have had to celebrate our revelations last night was put out to pasture when our families got too involved in planning the Christmas dinner, and the time just flew away, taking Holly back to her parents’ house next door and me to my guest bedroom.
“You know, I think this might be the best Christmas festival Everdale Falls has ever had,” Holly mused.
“Definitely the best one I’ve ever been part of,” I agreed, watching her with the kind of fond admiration that probably made me look like a complete sap. “Though I may be biased,since this is the first one where I got to kiss the head coordinator.”
“Only the first one?” Holly said with mock concern. “Are you planning to make a habit of kissing festival coordinators?”
“Just this one,” I said, stealing a quick kiss despite the fact that we were in full view of approximately half the town. “For the rest of my life, if she’ll have me.”
