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“So, what? You got us stuck so we’d be here with these dummies?” Annie asked, gesturing in the direction of Chris and Bailey, the realization taking her breath away. If Nick had wished them here and they hadn’t been able to kiss each other, then it had to be so that he could spend Christmas with his perfect movie heroine. “Bailey’s your Esther, isn’t she?” Annie asked him, trying to piece herself back together, her eyes still stinging with unshed tears and unsaid feelings.

“What?” Nick asked, taken aback. “No—” Nick’s face was wrecked, caught between protest and guilt.

“You have to fix this. Right now.”

“Annie, wait, is this what you want? You want to end up engaged to Chris?” Nick asked.

“I want to get out of here!” Annie yelled back at him.

“And what happens when you do?” Nick challenged. “Chris doesn’t even know the real you, Annie—” Nick said. Annie’s chest flushed with immediate defensiveness

“What’s that supposed to mean? That he couldn’t possibly fall for the real me?” Annie asked; the idea wounded her because it echoed how she already felt.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying—” Nick said, shaking his head and letting out a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t all be perfect like Bailey,” Annie said, the words bubbling out of her and burning all the way. “She’s a cookie-cutter mold of an ideal Christmas movie heroine, she’s always so happy, and she loves this time of year. That’s what you wanted, what you wished for, right?” Annie swallowed and it felt like she was being stabbed by a thousand Christmas tree needles. Bailey had all the qualities that Nick deserved in his rightful partner.

“Annie—” Nick tried again, but Annie shook her head. She had the chance to be a bigger person here, and that meant putting Nick’s needs first, even if it made her heart feel like it was cracking apart.

“We need to get back to the plan,” Annie said. “Complete the formula’s steps.”

“Is that really what you want, Annie?” Nick asked, his eyes pleading with her. Annie steeled herself and swallowed what she really wanted to say.

“I’m getting into the Christmas spirit!” Annie said instead. “I’m going to romance the pants off of Chris. Him and his rugged look and woodsy smell of the great outdoors!”

“We’re outside, everything should smell like the great outdoors—” Nick said as Annie physically pushed Nick into Bailey’s path. His eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to Annie, voice low and gravelly. “Annie. Please. This is what you want? This is your Christmas wish?”

This time Annie couldn’t force the lie out and instead nudged Nick into Bailey.

“It’s a beautiful tree. Can I carry it home for you?” Nick offered. His voice sounded robotic.

“Are you sure, big guy?” Chris asked with genuine concern. “She’s a hefty lady,” Chris said, gazing appreciatively at the tree.

“I’d love your help picking out my tree, Chris,” Annie said, batting her eyelashes in a flirtatious effort.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Chris said, heaving the tree into Nick’s chest.

“Thanks, Nick,” Bailey smiled, but Annie caught a stiffness in her that she hadn’t seen before.

“See you two tomorrow!” Annie waved before hissing in Nick’s ear, “This is it, seal the deal!” Nick turned back to her, and his eyes were deep puddles. Annie gave him a small nod of her head before linking her arm through Chris’s. When she was finally brave enough to turn back, Nick and Bailey were walking away. Annie fought the instinct to grab Nick again, beg him to stay by her side, and admit that what she really wanted was him. But she wouldn’t keep him from his perfect made-for-TV Christmas movie girlfriend. He deserved all the things Bailey could give him, and Annie would fight for Nick’s happy ending above her own if it meant he got one.

“I have the tree for you, Annie. The biggest balsam I can carry!” Chris said, puffing out his chest. Once he had slain the dragon and carried it home for her, they found a full box of ornaments and strings of lights ready to be used waiting for them on the living room table.

Annie mindlessly wove a string of lights around her fingers, imagining Nick around that darn bloody chair, trying to make his own Christmas treasure, unknowingly luring a mysterious man to them. I mocked him, Annie thought, feeling guilty. I wasn’t nice, and he only wished for us to not spend Christmas alone. It was a kindness, not a curse. Annie clenched the lights, trying not to cry.

“Let me help you with those,” Chris offered kindly and Annie blinked, wordlessly handing the lights over and allowing Chris to weave them around the tall tree. She explored the various decorations in the box. Most were generic, traditional adornments, but one caught her eye and she drew it closer to examine.

“Mistletoe was made for two,” read the small circular ornament. And then with a sudden burst of memory, she recalled a neighborhood ornament exchange party from childhood.

Each household contributed a wrapped ornament to a communal Santa bag, and families took turns pulling out one and opening it. Annie’s family had provided this one, the one she was now holding, but that year, she had also been the designated picker. She had selected the ornament that was on Nick’s luggage now, the one with the snow people and the corny “You mean snow much to me” nonsense on the scarf.

That’s not the ornament she took home, though, Annie recalled. Nick, after fighting with his older siblings to let him pick the wrapped ornament that year, had pulled out Mr. Heartgrave’s contribution. The painfully dorky “Math puns are the first sine of madness.” Instantly, the small thrill of being the one allowed to choose gave way to terrified little guy-logic that his siblings would tease him and kill his chances of ever being cool in their eyes.

Annie had been the first to notice him, completely distraught, the way only a small child can be, weeping alone on the staircase. He confided his fear of his older brother and sister (along with all the bigger neighborhood kids) reacting to him picking an ugly and, honestly, offensively nerdy decoration, so Annie had simply offered to trade. She didn’t want Nick to cry or be so sad during Christmas time. She took the dorky decoration from his hands, the ornament that now sat on her magical suitcase upstairs, and switched them. He had taken the snow people scarf ornament and held it to his young heart, speechless with gratitude.

Annie was so lost now, trying to recall all the details of the party, that she didn’t notice Chris had moved in closer to observe the ornament until he was reading it out loud.

“Mistletoe was made for two,” Chris said slowly. Annie looked up to find his face nearly inches from her own, close enough to feel his warm breath, and he gave her the faintest smile. Instinctively, Annie angled her chin, as if daring Chris to finally kiss her. Chris moved a millimeter closer as his eyes slowly blinked in Annie’s direction. Just when Annie thought their mouths would close the distance, she moved her hand and dropped the ornament, sending it rolling under the tree and cracking the moment between them.