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“Annie, what a vision you are!” Eve squealed. “Now, let me do your makeup. I promise I have a skilled hand,” Eve said, reaching for bags of cosmetics and helping Annie onto a white cushioned chair before Annie could object. It reminded Annie of all the times she and Marsha had taken turns doing each other’s hair and makeup for various school dances, and she was grateful to have a familiar moment with a friend amid these crazy circumstances. Within mere moments and a few proficient strokes across her face, Eve turned Annie toward a mirror. Her eyes were covered in iridescent, sparkly eye shadow, and her cheekbones caught the flattering light, showcasing a beautifully blended highlighter. Annie’s lips looked like they had been stained with raspberries. Eve released Annie’s hair from a claw clip, and it fell perfectly down to her shoulders, loose waves cascading into place before she finished the look with a diamond snowflake hairpin. Annie wanted to cry. She was a magical Christmas queen. Annie had never felt so beautiful in her entire life. Since she had stopped bothering to carry a useless phone around, she couldn’t take a picture. Instead, she tried to take a mental photograph to store in her mental files so she could hold on to this feeling for when she would inevitably cruelly criticize her appearance once she had been deposited back to real life in her true form.

“Could you help me with my tiara?” Eve asked Annie, interrupting her thoughts.

“I’d be honored,” Annie breathed out, hoping her working-woman American fingers wouldn’t do anything to compromise the coveted crown of a princess. Luckily, the tiara seemed to do most of the heavy lifting and landed on Eve’s head with ease. Annie fought the compulsion to tug on Eve’s hair just to see how well the obvious wig had been placed but didn’t want to hurt her friend. In a green velvet dress with long sleeves and a grand, sweeping neckline, Eve joined Annie at the mirror and squeezed her hand.

“Shall we make our way down?” Eve asked hesitantly, her voice wavering.

“Are you okay, Eve?” Annie asked. “You’ve seriously never looked hotter in your life … but you’ll feel better when you talk to Ferguson. Even though I think he may die when he sees you.”

“Oh no, really?” Eve asked, sounding horrified.

“I mean, because you look so beautiful!” Annie assured her, and Eve let out a small, relieved laugh.

“You Americans and your expressions,” Eve said with mock crossness.

“I’m going to tell Nick he’s the one I want,” Annie asserted to her mirror self. She saw Eve’s reflection widen her eyes.

“Yes, Annie, you must! I’m enchanted to hear it,” Eve said, turning to hug her.

“I need him to know how I feel … Even if Bailey managed to propose to him,” Annie added, trying to convince herself that this was the necessary next step and she needed to take it.

“Look at us,” Eve said encouragingly, “two strong women who have only become stronger with love. We can do this, we deserve our happily ever after.” Annie pulled Eve into another strong hug. Annie savored the connection, her heart aching for the closeness she only shared with Marsha.

Annie wanted to walk into the ballroom, descend a golden staircase at half speed, and force the crowd to marvel at her beauty. If she was truly starring in a made-for-TV Christmas movie, she deserved her moment, ding dang it. She let Eve go first, in search of Ferguson, before she made her own way out of the Sweetheart Suite. Annie walked slowly, grasping the banister for support, and was swept into the crowd of formalwear swaying to the sounds of violin strings. There were couples dancing some sort of choreographed waltz, and Annie wondered when they had all had time to learn yet another dance routine.

The lights in the room had dimmed, making everything softer and dreamier, and Annie assumed cinnamon spice was being pumped into the air from a nearby vent because the scent was delightfully intoxicating. She searched the room for Nick, but when she couldn’t find him, she wondered if she could get his attention another way.

“As—” Annie started and the sound of a bottle popping and its accompanying fizz echoed from somewhere nearby. Annie strained her neck, hoping she’d see Nick and also see actual alcohol. After a moment, she tried again, “Sh—”

A dog’s bark tore through the room, but, again, no sign of Nick. Time to bring out the big guns.

“Fu—” Annie said, mentally preparing for the Little Drummer Boy but instead hearing a loud whoopie cushion.

“Was that a whoopie cushion?”

Annie bumped right into Nick’s chest, causing them both to step back.

“Hubba, hubba,” Annie said, her mouth dropping open into a small O-shape of surprise. Nick looked gorgeous. Annie couldn’t take her eyes off of him or make a coherent thought, let alone declare her love. He was wearing a black suit with a light blue bow tie. His hair had been styled back, and even his black shoes seemed sexy to Annie; they were so shiny.

“You look beautiful,” Nick said softly.

“You look beautiful,” Annie repeated back to him, dumbly. “I mean, wow, Nick, you look straight up Jack Dawson from Titanic.”

“That’s probably the best thing anyone has ever said to me. I may need to tattoo that on my body,” Nick smiled.

“Please do,” Annie said, her mouth involuntarily watering, imagining both Nick and Leonardo DiCaprio’s (circa 1997) bodies.

“Why are your eyes doing that ‘I’ve spotted something delicious I want to eat’ look?” Nick asked, looking around the room. Annie blushed and let out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Listen, we have to talk—” Annie began as Bailey glided toward them. She was wearing a gorgeous lilac dress. It had a high neckline and a long skirt with layers of ruffled hems, giving her the appearance of a walking, elegant dessert set free from a bakery display case. When she turned, Annie could see that her back was bare except for a barely visible lace that sparkled and made her look ethereal.

“Merry Christmas,” Bailey said in a serious voice when she reached them.

“Your dress,” Annie breathed. “It’s stunning.”

“Thank you, Annie. I made it this morning. I was inspired by the Sugar Plum Fairy, of course,” Bailey smiled modestly.

“Of course,” Annie said, a smile tightly stretched across her face.