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“Kind of Dickensian,” Darby had said.
Which made me laugh.
Both Tiffany and I were bridesmaids, with Breck and Darby acting as our groomsmen. The weather cooperated very well on the day of the wedding. Several days before, we’d gotten a foot of powdery snow. But the day of the wedding, the sun shone brightly, glinting off the icicles that hung from the rafters of my inn and the gazebo.
As if we channeled the lovebirds of old, we were a merry, joyful group that gathered the day of their wedding. I watched my friends enjoy food and dancing with the scent of our Christmas tree in the air and shook my head in disbelief. This was my life. Soon, I would marry Darby and move into the cottage. All of my dreams had come true.
“May I have this dance, Miss Wattson?” It was Darby, looking more handsome than a man should in his black tuxedo.
“My dance card has only one spot left.” I rose to my feet and into his arms. “And it has your name on it.”
“I shall throw away any such dance cards from now on. I am the only name you need.” Darby kissed me before twirling me around the floor.
“You are the only one,” I said. “Now and for all the Christmases to come.”
I hoped we’d get fifty or so Christmases together, but one cannot know for sure. Only the current moment was certain. What a moment it was.
* * *
