Page 65 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“Annie, why don’t you want me to talk to Bailey? This is what you wanted to get us out of here,” Nick stated pointedly. A group of nearby fiddlers played their instruments so hard that it made it impossible to think. Noelle also loomed closer, ready to steal Nick away.

“Last night, I almost kissed Chris. I mean, I’m pretty sure we had our almost-kiss moment—” Annie said, probably the worst thing she could have said at that moment, short of “Go truck yourself.” Nick’s eyes expanded before they hardened. But before Annie could explain that it had only solidified that Chris was not the one she wanted to be with, Noelle scooped her arm through Nick’s, sending him in a circle around Annie.

“Let’s finish what we came here to do. I’ll see you at the Christmas Ball, okay?” Nick said, not meeting Annie’s gaze, as Noelle continued to spin him farther away.

“Wait! Nick—” Annie tried, but Nick and Noelle were caught in the wave of limbs, finding themselves at the center of the cyclone before Annie could do anything.

“Dig it forward,” Grant called as Annie stayed still. “Now grab your Santa Sack!” Grant continued, and the rows of partners obediently pretended to lift large, invisible bags over their shoulders in glee.

“Merry Christmas,” Annie said, her eyes filling with days’ worth of pent-up feelings. “Dang it!” Annie muttered to herself, realizing that she had just participated in another made-for-TV Christmas movie cliché, and she was the one who had been left behind.

When Annie made it home, she stomped up to her room and collapsed into bed.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Annie wailed to Arthur. “I trucked everything up back there.” Arthur looked at Annie and blinked. “Not helpful, bud.”

Arthur pawed at the yearbooks by her side table, nudging the book on top with his head, growing more insistent with each contact.

“Whoa, what’s in that thing? Catnip?” Annie asked, reaching for the book to have a closer look. “My junior year?” Arthur let out a loud meow that made Annie startle. “Dude, you are freaking me out,” she muttered. Annie thumbed through the yearbook, and Arthur placed himself in Annie’s lap to headbutt the passing pages until she stopped on the freshman class. For whatever reason, this settled Arthur, and he went back to staring at Annie. “This is Nick’s class,” Annie said as her eyes traveled the faces of young students until she found Nick’s tiny headshot. Annie couldn’t help but smile, placing a delicate finger over his round and familiar fourteen-year-old face. But an inscription written in tiny green handwriting next to the image caught her attention. Annie brought the page closer to her face to get a better view.

“Much Ado About Annie,” the note began, “with or without the mistletoe, I’m in a holiday mood. Love Always, Nick.” Annie had to read it three times before bursting out into an equal combination of laughter and tears.

“That is the dorkiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Annie squeaked, her voice already hoarse with the variety of sounds and experiences she was putting it through. “He loved me,” Annie said, two tears making a getaway down her face. Even after losing her beloved grandfather that year and closing up her heart, Nick had seen all those sides to her then and liked her anyway.

Maybe the reason they had slipped into this strange snow globe world was to get Annie to this point, in love with the boy next door and finally ready to release some of the grief that she had been gripping on to for dear life these past sixteen years. Maybe it was finally time. Maybe she was ready for her happy ending.

“I have to get to the ball!” Annie yelled, hoping Arthur would use this opportunity to become something useful, like a carriage or whatever else Cinderella needed to get herself to her destiny. Instead, Arthur gave his paw a lazy lick before curling into a ball. Annie took a big breath, grabbed her things, and made her way to the inn, unable to spare another moment with love and Christmas on the line.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Grant had outdone himself in preparing for the ball. Once again, the inn’s reception hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland, white lights and candles glowing as artificial snow dusted the numerous Christmas trees guiding the way to the grand staircase. Annie couldn’t help but note that this may be one of the last chances she’d have to experience this unrealistically full schedule, where time could stretch generously to accommodate each and every holiday whim.

Grant was lighting candles on the second floor, and Annie gave him a small wave.

“Annie! I’ve been wanting to thank you for your advice. I’m so happy you’ll be attending tonight’s ball,” Grant said, coming closer.

“So tell me, what’s the full name of tonight’s event?” Annie asked, wanting to prepare herself for whatever absurdly long-winded title awaited.

“The Annual Simsbury Christmas Ball,” Grant said simply. Annie waited for the hundred words that were supposed to follow it up. When Grant didn’t go on, Annie raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Huh, well, okay, then,” Annie shrugged, seeing Perry in the corner, carefully placing mistletoe.

“You’re trusting him with the mistletoe?” Annie joked. “Things must be serious.”

“He’s not going back to the big city,” Grant gushed with visible glee.

“Perfect,” Annie nodded. “I’m happy for you,” she added. “You found love in a holiday place and you were brave enough not to let it get away.”

Grant hugged Annie, and it was like being flooded with warm light.

“You’re brave too,” Grant assured her. Annie nodded. “Be with the one who sees you. And I’ll see you at the ball,” Grant smiled before pointing her to the white door labeled “The Sweetheart Suite” in white cursive inside a red heart. Before Annie could knock, Eve had opened the door, wearing a lush white robe, her fake wig hair of strawberry curls cascading down the back. Still, she looked every bit like her beautiful princess self.

“Oh, Annie! I’m so happy you’re here!” Eve squealed in delight. “Shall I pour you a cup of cocoa?” Eve asked, and she took the smallest, daintiest sip from her own cup, her pinky pointed high.

“Maybe later,” Annie smiled, the idea of yet another hot chocolate making her feel queasy.

“Wait until you see the dress I have for you,” Eve purred, taking Annie’s arm and closing the door behind them. When Eve selected the green velvet hanger and unzipped the garment bag, Annie expected to see something in holiday red, but instead, it was a light blue with an overlay of tiny pearls and crystals forming intricate snowflakes patterned from one shoulder down the entire floor-length dress. The back was sheer lace. It all looked impossibly delicate.

“Bury me in this dress,” Annie whispered, and Eve let out a giggle that sounded like an angel receiving its wings. With steady fingers, she gingerly took the dress, with Eve’s encouragement. She was so eager to put it on her body but wanted to give the dress the respect it deserved to ensure it would remain pristinely intact. Eve excused herself to the bathroom so Annie could change in privacy, and once the dress was safely on, Annie called for her to return.