I grin. “You’d better.”
He reins the horse to a slow stop under a canopy of lights strung between buildings—white and gold and shimmering, like someone poured the stars down just for us.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It’s different from the cabin—less desperate, more certain. No storm outside, no question of whether we get another chance. Just the press of his lips, the warmth of his hand on my cheek, the steady thump of his heart under my palm where I’ve flattened it over his chest.
The city fades.
The crowd. The lights. The worry.
It’s just us.
When we finally pull back, we’re both breathing harder, smiling like idiots.
“Happy almost New Year,” I whisper.
“Best one I’ve had in a long time,” he says.
EPILOGUE
IVY
One Year Later
I’m standing in the birch lane in Chimney Gorge, camera in hand, snow crunching under my boots.
The Jubilee is bigger this year. Sponsors signed on early. Our “Jubilee Meets the City” teaser went live in October and melted the internet. The town is packed with visitors and volunteers and lights.
Rhett is up by the sleigh, adjusting a runner. He looks the same and different—still solid, still steady, but lighter somehow. He splits his time now—two days a week at the security firm’s Saint Pierce office, two or three up here, weekends wherever we decide we need them more.
Sometimes that’s the cabin.
Sometimes that’s my apartment, half-filled with his things now.
He straightens, catches me filming him, and tips an invisible hat. “Content?”
“Always,” I call back.
He walks over, wraps an arm around my waist, and kisses my temple. “You almost ready?”
“Almost,” I say, adjusting the focus. “I just need a closing shot.”
“Of what?”
“Of this,” I say, turning the camera on us and snapping a quick photo—our cheeks pressed together, the birches behind us, the faint glitter of the Chimney Gorge tree in the distance.
Our Christmas card, basically.
He laughs. “You gonna make the whole internet cry again, Garland?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Is that a problem, Ryder?”
He pretends to think about it. “Long as I get you when the cameras are off.”
“You do,” I say, stealing a quick kiss. “You will.”
Down the path, a familiar voice calls my name. Melanie, bundled in a ridiculous puffball coat, waves from the sleigh with Everett on her lap and Lucas at her side. Everett shrieks and demands a bell.
