Someone behind the camera coughs.
I hear chuckling from the sound guy.
Doesn’t matter. Let them laugh. Let them see. Let the whole damn world know—I’m hers.
Sandra, the showrunner, claps her hands like a caffeinated elf. “Okay people! This is theMountain Makeovers: Holiday Showdownfinale! Noel Hart and Nash Hollis—Devil’s Peak Cabin transformation! Let’s go festive!”
I grunt. Noel beams. Camera rolls.
“Noel,” Sandra prompts sweetly, “tell the audience about your inspiration for this design.”
Noel glides to the mantel like she owns the place. Hell—she does, now. “I wanted to bring warmth back into this cabin. Cozy textures, layered lighting, rich winter tones—holiday magic without being cheesy.”
Sandra glances at the taxidermied moose head mounted above the fireplace. “And the moose?”
I cross my arms. “Stays.”
Noel grins into the camera. “It adds character.”
“It’s a dead animal,” I mutter.
“It’s masculine rustic charm,” she shoots back.
“It’s staring at me,” Sandra says.
“It likes you,” my snowflake sings.
The camera guy is barely holding it together.
Sandra signals to Noel. “So tell us about your favorite ornament.”
Noel picks up a hand-carved snowflake with our initials burned into it.N + N. “This one,” she says softly. “We made it together.”
The whole crew collectively melts.
Sandra turns to me. “And Nash? Your favorite?”
I stare flatly at the tree. “The one Noel didn’t hang.”
Sandra blinks. “Which one is that?”
I jerk my chin toward the hallway. “The mistletoe over our bed.”
Noel makes a strangled shriek-laugh while the sound guygasps. Sandra fans herself with the shot list.
“That’s a wrap on the bedroom cutaway!” she declares. “We’re moving on!”
***
Three hours and six mugs of cocoa later, filming wraps. Noel stands in front of the tree as the final scores from the virtual judges come in. I lean against a post and watch her listen. Watch her glow.
“Our winner… by audience voteandjudge score… Noel Hart!”
She gasps. Hands fly to her mouth. Crew cheers. Someone fires a confetti cannon and I nearly lose it.
Sandra hugs Noel. Someone hands her a trophy made of pine cones. It’s ridiculous. She loves it.
But instead of waving it around like a maniac, she turns to me. Her eyes search mine with a question I already know the answer to.
