I laughed, brushing a tear that wasn’t totally not there. “You’re impossible.”
“Still sounds like a compliment,” she shot back.
I stared at her. “Have you beenspending time with Drew?Because that’s his line.”
She grinned. “What can I say? He’s rubbing off on me.”
“Gross,” I said, shuddering. “Don’t make me think about that.”
“Jealous?”
“Of yourpregnancy?”
“Of my happiness,” she teased.
“Touché.”
The road curved along the riverbank, the trees dusted with snow like something out of a storybook. The sunlight glinted off the water’s icy surface, and for a moment, I forgot to be cynical.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Where exactly are we going?”
She grinned, that mischievous spark in her eyes that usually meant chaos. “You’ll see.”
“Lydia.”
“Trust me.”
“That phrase has historically ended badly for me.”
“This time it won’t.”
It took about fifteen more minutes and a lot of side-eyeing her choice in Christmas playlists before I saw it—a huge red barn just off the main road, nestled near the river bend.
But calling it a “barn” didn’t do it justice.
It was massive, like something from a Norman Rockwell painting, with a crisp white roof dusted in snow and twinkle lights wrapped around every post. Garlands draped over the wide front doors, and a wooden sign above readRiverbend Antiques & Holiday Market.
I blinked, jaw dropping. “This is it?”
“Isn’t it amazing?” Lydia said, beaming as she pulled into the lot. “Callum and I came here in the fall, but they expanded. It’s basically Christmas heaven now.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Even from the truck, I could see rows of outdoor stalls set up near the barn doors with handmade wreaths, carved wooden toys, and old sleds propped against fences.
It was disgustingly wholesome.
And, against my better judgment, something in my chest melted just a little.
“Wow,” I said quietly. “This is… actually beautiful.”
“Told you.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“You love it.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “It’s like Christmas threw up, but tastefully.”
She laughed. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”
