Evelyn blinked rapidly, refusing to cry at her own Christmas party. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Maggie said. “Now go dance with that lovely woman who’s been making heart eyes at you all night.”
“She has not—” Evelyn started, but Maggie was already walking away, leaving her flustered and more than a little warm.
She found Alyssa near the catering station, deep in conversation with the chef about the success of the menu. Bug was at her feet, looking hopeful for dropped food.
“Everything okay?” Alyssa asked when she noticed Evelyn approaching.
“Everything’s perfect,” Evelyn said, and meant it.
The band announced their final song of the night, something slow and sweet that had couples pairing off across the dance floor.
“One more dance?” Alyssa asked, holding out her hand.
Evelyn took it without hesitation.
This time, when they moved together, Evelyn wasn’t thinking about her employees watching, or what it might look like, or whether she was doing it right. She was just present in the moment, with Alyssa’s hand warm in hers and Bug sitting nearby like the world’s most attentive chaperone.
“Thank you,” Evelyn said softly. “For everything. For helping with the party, for pushing me out of my comfort zone, for—” she hesitated, then continued, “—for reminding me how to be me again.”
Alyssa’s expression was impossibly tender. “You never stopped being you, Evelyn.”
The song ended, and the band announced they were wrapping up. Employees started gathering their things, calling out goodbyes, thanking Evelyn for a wonderful evening.
Evelyn accepted their thanks with genuine warmth, surprised by how much she meant it when she said she was glad they’d enjoyed themselves.
As the crowd thinned, Alyssa started coordinating cleanup with the venue staff. Evelyn watched her work, marvelling at how effortlessly she moved through the space, how naturally she took charge.
“Stop staring,” Maggie said, appearing at her elbow again. “It’s obvious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evelyn said primly.
“Sure you don’t,” Maggie replied. “Just…don’t overthink it, okay? Life’s too short.”
She left before Evelyn could respond, which was probably for the best.
The venue slowly emptied until it was just Evelyn, Alyssa, Bug, and a handful of staff breaking down tables and packing up decorations.
“We did it,” Alyssa said, coming to stand beside Evelyn. “We actually pulled it off.”
“You pulled it off,” Evelyn corrected. “I just tried not to get in your way.”
“You did more than that,” Alyssa said. “You showed up. You connected with your people. You let yourself be present. That’s huge, Evelyn.”
Evelyn looked around the warehouse, at the remnants of the party they’d created together. The fairy lights still twinkled, casting warm shadows across the brick walls. A few stray pieces of tinsel glittered on the floor. The air still smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon.
It had been perfect.
As they helped with the final cleanup, Evelyn felt something shift inside her. Something that had been locked tight since her mother’s death, slowly beginning to open.
Maybe Maggie was right. Maybe her mother would have been proud of tonight. Not just the party itself, but what it represented—Evelyn stepping out of her grief, reconnecting with her company, remembering how to lead with heart instead of just competence.
“What are you thinking about?” Alyssa asked, catching her expression.
“My mum,” Evelyn admitted. “And how she would have loved this. The chaos, the connection, the terrible puns on the menu cards.”
“Those were excellent puns,” Alyssa protested.
