“Oh! Wait a minute! I have something we can do! I’ll be right back!” I exclaimed, my excitement bubbling over as I scurried off to one of the smaller guest rooms, where we stored boxes filled with random holiday decorations and seasonal items. After a few seconds of scanning dusty labels, I spotted the faded one markedChristmastucked in the corner.
“Bingo,”I muttered triumphantly to myself, brushing dust off the lid.
I picked up a hefty, lopsided box. Its contents shifted and rattled ominously as I lugged it toward the living room, my arms straining as I shuffled forward. As soon as Bryce caught sight of my struggle, he groaned dramatically, shaking his head before standing to lend a hand, like he already knew what was coming. Brycehatedputting up decorations, but he always ended up loving the finished look once everything was up.
“Thank you,” I expressed, slightly out of breath as he took the box from my arms with ease.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, effortlessly setting it down as if it weighed nothing. “I told you about trying to be superwoman, too.”
I gave a small smirk, brushing a curl behind my ear as I caught my breath. “And yet you always come to my rescue. Must be your thing.”
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
“Okay, what is that?!” Isis blurted, squinting like the box was alive.“Is that a box of trauma or joy? ‘Cause right now it’s givingboth!”
I grinned.“This, everybody… is decorations. Since Christmas is in two days—and it’sverypossible we’ll still be here—we might as well make the best of it by bringing some joy to the cabin, and act like we’re a functional family who didn’t let the snow kill our holiday spirit!”
I popped the lid open, revealing a tangled avalanche of lights, crushed garland, glittery snowflakes, and a questionable Santa hat.
Isis scrunched up her face, her expression adorably exaggerated. “Yeah… no. I rebuke all those knots in the name of La Mer skincare products and limited-edition Jo Malone candles!”
“Man… I thought putting up decorations was a woman’s job,” Adrian said, as if that would excuse his reluctance to help.
I raised an eyebrow playfully. “If you can't untangle basic lights without breaking a sweat or needing a dramatic meltdown, just say that, Adrian.”
“I almost forgot how much you love to decorate,” Bryce muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like I had just handed him a hefty toolbox full of stress-inducing tasks.
I patted his shoulder, a sweet yet firm gesture. “You’ll be fine. This will be just like old times… except this time, we have more hands to help out. And just so you know, this wasn’t on the top of my ‘fun things to do while snowed in’ list, but I’d rather stay busy than sit around sulking, bored, or beefin’ over who drank the last juice pouch.” I narrowed my eyes playfully. “And just so we’re clear, if nobody helps,nobody eats.”
Adrian shot up fast like he’d been activated. “Okay, so howChristmasywe talkin’? Are we goin’ Nutcracker hood classic or Macy’s window realness?”
Laughter erupted around the room.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, tossing him a roll of garland like a relay baton.
“Well,” Isis started, fluffing her curls and striking a pose, “when I was younger, inmyhousehold, we always decorated with music. So can I be in charge of the vibes and playlist curation?”
“Yeah… as long as you’re not trying to play that orchestral Mariah Carey remix or some overly luxurious jazzed-up mistletoe meditation.”
Isis shot me a look, her hand settling on her hip, as if I had just insulted her very essence.
“Chesteria, I may exfoliate while drinking champagne and speak fluent ‘soft life,’ but when it comes to Christmas, I’m a cinnamon apple candle-burning, seat-dancing, gift-wrapping savage… and a trap queen at heart when it comes to my music.”
With a dramatic twirl, Isis held a crystal vase stuffed with fake poinsettias like it was a Grammy award.
“Don’t let the YSL heels and collagen lip mask fool you. You’re not the only one who twerks in seats, mirrors, or hosts rap concerts in the car before clocking in. I got a wholetrapplaylist ready to go. Santa gon’ be twerkin’ by the fireplace beforesundown, and Mrs. Claus might just pop something’ in them red boots.”
I cackled, handing her a cluster of silver icicle reindeer ornaments and a sparkly “Let It Snow” sign.
“Well, here you go,DJ Jingle Traps. Add your sparkle to the kitchen décor.”
Isis’s eyes gleamed with excitement, lighting up like LED lights on clearance. “Yesss! Imagine Snow Barbie meets Chanel flagship! The kitchen’s about to slay!” She pivoted on her sock-clad feet and called back to Adrian, “Let’s go, partner! And don’t drag your feet!" She glanced at his knee. "Well... not too much! But we have work to do! I may have flunked food prep, but I aced Home Décor with a minor inGlitterology, and Irefuseto be defeated in the glamorous execution of our holiday aesthetic!”
Adrian muttered, trailing behind her. “Come on, Ice Queen. Let’s go put glitter on the stove.”
It’s not a competition, Isis, I wanted to tell her, but I just let hermarch off like a bedazzled general with a mission to turn the kitchen into a holiday magazine spread.
“That girl,” I turned to Bryce, shaking my head amusedly. “There are a few more boxes in the back. Can you grab them for me?”
