"Hot chocolate station in the loft," I add, getting into the spirit of planning. "And maybe a petting zoo for the kids."
"Christmas tree lot in the north pasture."
"You're getting carried away," I laugh, but I love seeing this side of him, full of dreams and possibilities.
"Maybe. But for the first time in years, the future feels like something to look forward to instead of something to survive."
The clock on the barn wall chimes eleven thirty, and slowly the crowd begins to thin. Families with young children head home first, followed by the elderly folks who have early church services tomorrow. By midnight, only a few stragglers remain, helping clean up and pack leftover food.
Carly finds us in the loft as we're taking down some of the lights.
"This was incredible," she says, beaming. "The whole town's talking about it. You two have started something special here."
"It was a team effort," I say, but Wyatt shakes his head.
"Emmy organized everything. I just tried not to get in the way."
Carly looks between us, taking in our linked hands and the obvious happiness radiating from both of us. "Well, whatever magic happened here tonight, bottle it. The town council's already asking about making this an annual tradition."
After she leaves, Wyatt and I finish packing up in comfortable silence. The barn feels different now, not just because of the decorations, but because it's been christened with community and joy. It's no longer just a building where we store hay and treat animals. It's the heart of something bigger.
"Come on," Wyatt says when we're done, taking my hand. "Let's go home."
Home. The word settles into my chest like a warm glow.
We walk through the snow to the main house, Christmas lights twinkling on the porch and smoke curling from the chimney. Inside, a fire crackles in the living room, and the Christmas tree Matty's wife decorated glows softly in the corner.
"Coffee?" Wyatt asks, but I shake my head.
Instead, I pull him down onto the couch, curling against his side as we watch the fire dance. Outside, snow continues to fall, blanketing the ranch in pristine white that makes everything look clean and new.
"I can't believe this is real," I murmur against his chest.
"It's real." His arms tighten around me. "We're real."
"What time is your family arriving tomorrow?"
"Probably around noon, knowing Aunt May. She'll have packed enough food for an army and presents for people she's never met."
"Should I be nervous?"
"Terrified," he says solemnly, then grins when I poke his ribs. "They're going to love you. How could they not?"
We sit in comfortable silence, listening to the fire crackle and the wind whistle around the house. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new adventures, new joy. But tonight, it's just us and the promise of all the Christmases to come.
"Merry Christmas, Wyatt," I whisper as the grandfather clock in the hall chimes midnight.
"Merry Christmas, Emmy." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "The first of many."
Outside, the snow keeps falling, covering the world in white possibility. And inside, wrapped in Wyatt's arms beside the Christmas tree, I finally understand what home feels like.
It feels like forever, and it feels like just the beginning.
Epilogue - Emmy
One Year Later
Snow still blankets Dry Creek Ranch, but this year it's different. This year, the house overflows with laughter and the scent of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. This year, Christmas morning means family.
