Page 204 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

I nod.

“Excellent,” she says with a sharp-toothed smile. “I’ll consider this your RSVP.” She turns to go—is she seriously leaving?—and I’m left trailing after her, gawking, still careful to hold my hot chocolate so it doesn’t splash.

Hers is already finished, and she sets the empty cup on the dining room table before gathering her things.

“Don’t you need to text Damien to pick you up?”

“He’s already out there.”

She says it with such complete certainty, I have to ask, “How do you know? If he pulled up, it must have been while we were in the bedroom, because I don’t see any lights out front.”

“I’m wearing vibrating panties, and he has the remote. He just turned them on for a second to let me know he’s here.”

There’s so much to unpack from that statement, not least of all that vibrating pantiesdoexist—good call, manufacturers—that I don’t know where to start. She takes pity on me and pats my shoulder.

“Just in case you get chatty, I’ll send you the address for the wedding a half hour before the ceremony on Saturday. We’re starting at seven.”

This throws my mind into a tizzy. We’re not going to know until a half hour before? What if we’re late? What if we get lost? What if we find out it’s somewhere we can’t possibly go?

The smirk on her face tells me it’s intentional, that this is part of my challenge—to learn how to corral the what-ifs that swamp my brain.

“Well, congratulations,” I say as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “Do you have a registry?”

She laughs at me on her way out the door.

I finish my hot chocolate on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree. My eyes linger on that star, then skip down to a bronze roadrunner, an ornament I bought in New Mexico on a “family trip” that turned into me and Aidan sightseeing, most of which he did not enjoy, while Glenn hung out at the pool or took work calls in our hotel room. Then there’s the ornament with the family picture I took with my parents and Maisie and Molly, huge smiles on our faces. Back then, we didn’t know there was a storm at our door, but I suppose you never do until it’s blowing it down. There’s something remarkably personal about a Christmas tree, I realize. Each of the ornaments has significance, each is a blip along the timeline of a person’s life, and my life might have started out slow and safe, but it’s taken a turn that I’m starting to like. A lot.

There’s a powerful longing to text Jace—no, to call him—but I’m not ready for that yet. I haven’t yet processed what I want to say. So instead, I find my laptop and return to my spot on the couch. I spend several minutes Christmas shopping online,finding some last-minute gifts, including some Tea of Fortune merch for the gift exchange at work.

I stow my laptop and head to my bedroom, washing up and tucking in beneath the emerald duvet. It’s nearly ten, so maybe it’s too late to call Jace—actually, it’s certainly too late to call—but I find myself pulling up his number anyway.

He’ll be home now, and I imagine him in his apartment, wearing…

When he slept over at my house, he wore nothing at all. Does he usually sleep that way? Will he be answering his phone naked? The thought sends pleasure skittering across my skin, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had similar thoughts every single night since our time together. Before I can second-guess or maybe third-guess myself, I’m dialing his number.

It only takes one ring for him to answer.

“Mary? Is everything okay?”

There’s concern in his voice, and it cascades warmth through me. This man cares about us. That’s not just what I want to believe. It’s true.

“We’re fine. Totally fine. I’m sorry for calling so late, I just…” Suddenly my throat is tight, but I squeeze out, “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” he says, his tone turning warm and honeyed. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

I can tell he means it—he’s actually happy to hear from me, even this late on a Wednesday night—and I find myself telling him about Nicole and the Bad Luck Club and her challenges. For some reason, it hasn’t come up before, or maybe I was too embarrassed to tell him, but he listens in a way that emboldens me, only commenting or making sounds of assent when a response is appropriate.

“Let me guess,” he says, his voice suddenly throaty. “Buying that vibrator was one of your challenges?”

“It was,” I admit. “And it wasn’t easy. Do you know how many vibrators there are on Amazon alone? It’s like there’s this whole shadow world out there I had no idea existed.”

He laughs, a deep rumble in his chest, and I can practically feel the echoes of it in my body. In my toes, for goodness’ sake. “Have you used it yet, Mary? I’ve wondered.”

Oh goodness.

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