“Emma, please?—”
But she's already pulling me into a hug, then pulling Evan into one too. “It took you long enough. I was about to lock you two in a storage closet until you figured it out.”
Before I can respond, Jocelyn materializes at Evan's elbow. She is clutching a hardcover book with gilt edges.
“Holly, hi.” Her smile is tentative. “I'm so, so sorry about the photo. I didn't think—I was caught up in the romance of it all and?—”
“Jocelyn.” I touch her arm gently. “It's okay.”
“It's not okay! I violated your privacy and?—”
“You captured something beautiful. Your timing was terrible, but your intention was good.” I squeeze her arm. “We're okay.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I say.
She practically squeals, then turns to Evan and hands him the book.
“Holly, if it's okay, I got this for Marie,” he tells me, showing me the cover—a gorgeous, illustrated edition of The Nutcracker. “It's the same one Elsbeth gave me, that I still have—though a newer edition of course. Can I give it to her?”
“Of course.” I have to swallow twice. “When did you order this?”
“Last week.” Before we knew if we'd reconcile. Before everything.
I open the cover. Inside, in Evan's handwriting:
For Marie & Clara—because you're both. May you always find magic in December. Love, Evan
My finger hovers over his words. This man, who questions every holiday tradition, wrote “May you always find magic in December” while we weren't speaking. This is who he is when no one's watching, believing in the magic he claims to question.
I reach up, touch his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper. He turns his face into my palm, kisses it quickly.
The Johnsons approach with Mrs. Kowalski.
“We have a proposition,” Mrs. Johnson says. “It's the final performance. We think you two should do the party scene.”
“Oh no,” I protest. “You were great last weekend?—”
“We insist,” Mr. Johnson says firmly. He turns to Mrs. Kowalski. “Don't you think?”
“I love it!” Mrs. Kowalski clasps her hands together. “Wonderful symmetry. You started this run together, you should end it together.”
Evan looks at me and raises his eyebrows, as if to say, what do you think?
I answer with a smirk. “Let's do it!”
“Okay,” we say together.
Emma helps me into my party scene dress while Evan disappears to change.
“You look happy,” Emma says, fastening the hooks. “Stupidly, obviously, embarrassingly happy.”
“I am.”
“Good. You deserve it.” She spins me around, assessing. “Now go find your billionaire tap dancer.”
I find him with Mr. Johnson, who's attempting to help him into the party scene jacket.
