Page 28 of Holiday Flame

NEXT CHRISTMAS

JADE

“Ladies.” Mabel taps the side of her cocktail with her long candy cane-striped nails. The chatter around the table dwindles as we give her our undivided attention.

Well, as undivided attention as we can give after we’ve indulged in a couple rounds of the best Christmas cocktails the Elk Shack has to offer. Never mind that “Run, Run Rudolph is blaring over the speakers.”

I swear, for being such a curmudgeon every other day of the year, the bar’s owner turns into a regular Saint Nick during the holidays.

Rolling her eyes at Paisley, who has a serious case of the giggles, Mabel raises her glass. “I would be remiss in my maid of honor duties if I didn’t make a toast to the woman we’re all gathered to celebrate this evening.”

“Cheers to that.” Piper takes a healthy gulp and sets her glass down to reach for my hand. “Let’s take another look at that ring.”

I oblige by holding out my hand. Remington slipped the ring onto my finger in bed the other day. My heart warms atthe memory of his ears turning pink and his words rambling together as he told me how much he loved me and asked me to be his wife.

The poor man was nervous. So nervous, he couldn’t wait to give it to me Christmas morning surrounded by our family the way he’d planned.

As if I could have said anything besides “abso-freaking-lutely.” I knew I wanted to marry him since we got together a year ago. Heck, I probably even knew before.

I grin down at my hand. The ring has only been on my finger for a few days now. I’m still getting used to the cool gold band rubbing against my skin when I type on my computer or how it catches the light when I reach for a cup of coffee.

Rolling my hand back and forth now, another thrill shoots through me as the sapphire and diamonds dance with the Christmas lights strung out overhead.

Maxine asks if we’ve set a date or picked a venue.

Before I can say we haven’t made any concrete plans, Astrid interjects, “I think the real question is who is next?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, who”—she looks pointedly at each of our friends around the table—“will be the next to fall in love.”

Piper scoffs. “I’m already in love with the Ryans.”

“Gosling and Reynolds?” Paisley asks.

“You know it.”

“You ladies.” Astrid shakes her head. “I mean who will be next to fall in love with a real man.”

“The Ryans are real.”

“You know what I mean.”

Our table falls silent. At least, as quiet as it can be on a Friday night when the Firth Mountain Smokejumpers are playing darts against the Swift Mountain firefighters. Everyone seems to seriously consider the question. For my part, I don’t have aclue. If anyone would have posed the same question during our meet-up when I came home last Christmas, I never would have guessed it would be me. So, by that logic, it could really be anyone.

Which is exactly what Maxine says, before cocking an eyebrow and adding, “But I have a feeling it’ll be Mabel.”

“Yeah, right.” Mabel glares into her cosmopolitan. “You know I’m more interested in setting up a nest egg than tying myself to a man. I’m about as close to marriage as Jade’s hymen was to her vagina after Remington entered the scene.”

“You mean before Remington’s dick entered Jane’s scene.” Astrid wiggles her eyebrows.

“Is the hymen actually close to the vagina?” Piper asks, thoughtfully stirring her snowflake martini with a cocktail pick. “Or is it part of the cervix?”

“Is it bad I don’t really know the difference between the vagina and cervix?” Astrid asks.

“Oh, jeez,” I mumble under my breath, my cheeks flushing bright pink. “I think maybe we should take a break from the cocktails and have a couple glasses of water.”

My friends are clearly getting a little silly.

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