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“Well, I’ll let you look over the menu,” Bailey purred to Nick. Annie felt slightly stupefied by her big unblinking eyes and her breathy, high-pitched voice. “Can I start you with some hot chocolates? We have the traditional and peppermint cocoa blends today.”

“What kind of iced coffee do you have?” Annie asked. There was a sound of glass shattering somewhere nearby. “Is it just regular or do you have other flavors?” Annie continued, ignoring the change in the air. “And what kind of milk alternatives do you have? Can I get oat milk? Wait, what brand of oat milk is it?” Annie asked, and Bailey looked increasingly horrified. Couples at nearby tables turned around to stare, mouths set in open O-shapes of terror.

“She’s kidding!” Nick assured the onlookers. Some smiled, and some clutched their hearts and sighed in relief. “Oh, Annie, always the jokester!” Nick said through gritted teeth, emitting a loud forced laugh. Bailey joined in on his laughter and walked back to the kitchen, shaking her head.

“Nick. Are you telling me I can’t get iced coffee here?” Annie asked fearfully.

“This seems like an exclusively cocoa town,” Nick said, raising his eyebrows.

“I drink three or four iced coffees a day!” Annie whisper-wailed.

“Geez, try some water,” Nick cringed, the idea of all that iced coffee clearly physically paining him.

“I mean, there’s water in the ice …” Annie muttered.

“That still seems like an excessive amount of caffeine.” Nick grimaced.

“Don’t you dare judge me, made-for-TV Christmas movie watcher boy,” Annie hissed. “I’m in a place called Déjà Brew and they don’t have coffee? And what’s the deal with your girlfriend? Was she always like that?”

“Honestly, the last time I talked to her, she was wasted on pumpkin beer near the butter sculpture at the Big E. I don’t think she’d remember it … But back in high school? She was lovely, honestly, a perfect first girlfriend.”

“I get it, she’s hot.” Annie nodded, assuming Nick’s understandable attraction for his ex. “But also, like, clearly attracted to her ancestor. She’s straight out of a horror movie. It’s scary.

“What? No, she’s a sweet, small-town girl …” Nick sputtered.

“Annie Meyers, is that you?” a voice sang out. “Oh my, with Nick Laurel? Are you two married now?”

“What? Ugh, um, big no,” Annie answered quickly before she looked to see who she was responding to. “Grant?” Annie asked, studying the well-dressed man standing in front of them. His perfectly tailored, pristine white button-down shirt and navy dress pants looked like they had been specifically designed for his slim, small frame. His clean-shaven face radiated under a full head of thick black hair that looked even more lustrous and voluminous in this café lighting.

There was a youthful quality to his appearance that reminded her of elementary school Grant. He would make his presence known by trying to corral everyone on their bus route to sing “One Day More” from Les Misérables or “Carrying the Banner” from Newsies under his lead before the bus driver inevitably yelled at him to “zip it.” Clearly, growing up in Simsbury had helped pave the path to Grant’s prominent standing within the Connecticut drag community.

“Grant! Oh, I’ve never been so happy to see you!” Annie squealed, so grateful to recognize a friend, and jumped up to hug him. In his ear, she whispered, “How did you get here?”

“Annie, hello,” Grant replied a little stiffly. “It’s so nice to see you both,” Grant smiled at Nick.

“Are you back home for the holidays?” Nick asked.

“I just moved back—” Grant started.

“What?” Annie cut in, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I inherited my great-aunt’s inn,” Grant said simply. Annie’s face clouded in confusion. Grant’s parents had moved their family from Korea to Connecticut when he and his sister were kids, and this was the first time Annie had heard about a great-aunt or an inn associated with his family in Simsbury.

“But I saw you yesterday at the office party—” Annie began as Grant stared back at her blankly. “Wow, okay, we’ll circle back to that. Can I borrow your phone for a second?” Annie asked. When Grant didn’t reply, she added, “Look, I promise I won’t snoop into your hidden pictures, or try to read all your recent notes again. I learned my lesson—”

“Sorry, Annie, my phone doesn’t have a usable signal, so I left it at the inn,” Grant said.

“No, you would never leave without it,” Annie said, though Grant didn’t appear to hear her.

“You run an inn?” Nick asked.

“Yes, the Nutmeg Nest,” Grant answered.

“What’s a nutmeg nest?” Annie asked, but again, Grant didn’t hear her. “Grant, you can’t be serious about moving back here. Are you going to leave your job? What about your party planning committee? And what’s going to happen to Peppermint Patti LuBone?” Annie continued urgently—she could feel this familiar piece of the real world slipping away right before her eyes and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Before Grant could answer, Bailey carried two large mugs heaped with whipped cream and generous portions of red and green sprinkles their way. “Oh no, she’s heading back, protect me,” Annie said under her breath.

“On the house. In honor of your house-sitting,” Bailey said, batting her eyelashes in Nick’s direction. “Oh, hi, Grant! Another cup of your usual?” Bailey asked.