Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
ALIX
The drive into town felt like a secret. The world outside had gone downy and white, the roads lined with snowdrifts that caught the glow of headlights and Christmas lights alike.
Grace cradled a travel mug of hot cocoa in her hands, steam curling up toward the windshield.
The radio hummed low, Mariah Carey crooning the holiday anthem.
Christmas light drives were one of Alix’s favorite Christmas traditions.
She’d grown up with them, had even wrangled Phyllis into it a few times.
They’d had a quiet day, taking a long outdoor walk around Alix’s old haunts near the house. Alix had tried to get Grace on one of the horses, but Grace hadn’t been so keen on the idea, so Alix hadn’t pressed it. They’d have time. They’d be back, someday.
They’d spent an hour or so helping Helen prep Christmas dinner, then spent most of the afternoon lazing around the living room with the rest of the family watching Elf, which was Alix’s favorite, and The Grinch, Grace’s favorite.
Helen had demanded The Holiday, which was Alix’s secret second favorite, not that she’d ever admit to being such a softie in front of anyone but Grace.
After dinner, Alix had the grand idea of driving around to look at Christmas lights, and the parents had gratefully shooed them out so they could play Hand and Foot in peace.
“Confession,” Alix said, one hand on the wheel, the other sneaking across the center console until it brushed Grace’s. “I used to think this song was about unrequited love. Like, tragic torch-song energy.”
Grace smiled, turning their hands palm to palm, their fingers fitting together like the last piece of a puzzle. “And now?”
“Now I think it’s about manifesting.” Alix glanced over, grinning. “You just sing it loud enough, and the universe delivers. Voila, Christmas.”
“Dangerous philosophy,” Grace teased, but her thumb stroked the back of Alix’s hand in lazy circles that made it impossible to focus on the road.
They drove through Old Town Fort Collins, where every tree was wrapped in lights and every storefront glowed in warm yellows, blinking reds, the occasional stubborn strand of blue.
The Ace Hardware store had a blow-up Santa wrestling a reindeer, and the Mugs sign blinked OPEN in time with the music.
They sipped cocoa, their fingers still twined between them, the hum of the heater and the Christmas playlist wrapping the truck in something that felt dangerously close to peace.
At a red light, Alix snuck another look at her. Grace was watching the lights, eyes wide, the reflection of festivity moving over her face. She looked like someone caught mid-wish.
And just when the moment tipped from sweet to something heavier — something that might’ve ended in another kiss — a voice from the back seat shattered the spell.
“So, hey,” Matt said, leaning forward between them. “Two things. Can we turn down the heat? And then can we hit that house off Mulberry with the synchronized light show? The one that has the radio station?”
Alix startled so hard her foot slipped from the brake and the truck lurched for a moment. “Sweet baby Jesus, Matt, I almost forgot you were back there.” She held a hand to her chest.
“Yeah,” Grace said, clutching her cup and trying not to laugh. “Me too.”
In the rearview mirror, Matt gave an unimpressed frown, flanked by Bobbi and Whitney, who were both silent and wearing identical beanies that read LET IT SNOW. They stared straight ahead, serene and unbothered, each holding a thermos like they were part of some small-town caroling cult.
“Are they okay?” Grace whispered, leaning toward Alix.
“They’re fine,” Alix whispered back. “I’m pretty sure they’re telepathic.”
“Mm-hmm,” Matt said from the back. “We can all hear you.”
Grace bit her lip to stifle a laugh, squeezing Alix’s hand again.
Alix smiled, eyes on the glowing road ahead.
Outside, the next house came into view — a two-story blaze of synchronized lights flickering perfectly to the beat of “Snowed In With You.”
Snowed in with you, nothing else to do, but love you till the morning comes.
The firelight’s low, the world’s in the snow, and time forgets what it was.
“I’ve always loved this song,” Grace admitted. “I know it’s so popular, but I think it might be my favorite.”
“Mine too, actually,” Alix said. She leaned into Grace’s shoulder, and for a moment, even with Matt’s running commentary and the twins’ unnerving silence, it felt like the happiest kind of weird.
Alix used to leap out of bed as a kid on Christmas morning, desperate to see what Santa brought. She and Matt would wake up before dawn some years, bouncing with excitement from their assigned places on the couch designated to keep them away from ripping into every present immediately.
This year was even better. She woke to Grace’s arm draped over her waist, the pale morning light seeping through the curtains, and the faint sound of people downstairs.
For a few precious seconds, she didn’t move.
She just breathed, slow and quiet, and listened to the small sounds Grace made in her sleep.
A sigh. A shift of the blanket. The brush of her toes against Alix’s shin.
The late-night arrival of Grace’s luggage felt like a fever dream.
She’d called it a Christmas miracle, hugging the suitcase like a lost family member, and then they’d both stayed up too late talking and laughing in the glow of the fireplace until they’d finally crawled into bed, fully clothed, too tired to think about boundaries or implications.
Now, with the world hushed and wrapped in snow, Alix leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Grace’s forehead. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
Grace’s eyes opened slowly, warm and a little blurry with sleep. “Merry Christmas,” she echoed, her voice gravelly. She pressed her mouth to Alix’s, tightly closed. “Sorry, I have morning breath.”
Alix smirked. “Yeah, but I’m counting on the peppermint schnapps we drank last night to even it out.”
Grace laughed, low and quiet, and stretched, her leg brushing against Alix’s. “Scientific method at its finest.”
“Obviously.”
Grace snorted. “That’s not how that works.”
For a beat, neither moved. Then Grace shifted closer, nose brushing Alix’s cheek, her breath warm against her skin.
The moment thickened, the air heavy with the kind of quiet that hummed.
Grace’s hand slid from Alix’s waist to her hip, fingertips curling through the fabric of her shirt.
Alix’s pulse kicked. She could feel Grace’s heartbeat, fast and sure, syncing with her own.
“I think everyone’s downstairs,” Alix murmured, her voice unsteady in the best way. “If we wanted to, you know, take a moment to…”
Grace’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Trust me, I do want that,” she said, and then added, too sweetly, “but I have the perfect presents for everyone. I am not missing Christmas morning just to get laid.”
Alix gasped in mock horror. “Wow. Romance really is dead.”
Grace laughed, low and warm. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.”
They dissolved into laughter that felt too easy, too good. The kind of morning she’d forgotten existed. Alix watched as Grace stretched, yawned, and finally climbed out of bed.
“Wait,” Alix said suddenly. “Before we go downstairs, I, uh, I wanted to give you my present in private.”
Grace looked up, eyes curious. “You do? Alix, I just told you—”
“It’s a real present,” Alix said with a laugh. “I just want it to not be like… I just don’t want you to laugh, and I don’t want to explain it to my mom, and… I just…” She shifted nervously on the bed.
Grace pressed a hand to her chest. “I’d never laugh at anything you gave me, ever.”
Alix reached under the nightstand and pulled out a thin, awkwardly wrapped bundle. The wrapping job was imperfect, to say the least. She’d clearly missed that lesson in the Helen Wolf School of Gift-Giving. She handed it over with butterflies in her stomach.
Grace smiled, looking down at the doodles covering the front — tiny hearts, coffee cups, and scissors.
“Don’t get too excited,” Alix said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I ran out of ribbon and self-restraint.” She’d finished the present only yesterday, adding details until the last possible second, and then wrapped it in secret after excusing herself during White Christmas.
Grace tore it open carefully, revealing a small hand-bound zine. Made from cardstock and staples, its cover was collaged with pictures and doodles. Across the front, in a combination of bold black marker and magazine letter cutouts, it read:
THE brEAKUP BUDDIES FIELD GUIDE TO SURVIVAL
Compiled & Illustrated by A. Wolf, Certified Dumbass
Grace blinked, then started laughing. “You did not.”
“Oh, I absolutely did.” Alix leaned forward, elbows on her knees, grinning nervously. “It’s a limited edition. Only one copy exists. Probably for good reason.”
Alix held her breath as Grace flipped it open, immediately met with a cartoon drawing of the two of them on a boat in the River Styx, Alix as Charon and Grace sitting with a tiny alligator in her lap.
The next page was a fake Yelp review of Alix’s heartbreak connoisseur services.
Then, a magazine cover of Esquire with Grace on the cover, wearing a medal that proudly said WORLD’S BEST GATOR.
It went on in that fashion, including a page with magazine cutouts of a jar of olives and glittery fangs from their first pantry FaceTime.
On a page titled How to Survive a Miami Thanksgiving Without Dying (of Tummy Aches or Unexpected Pool Dips), Alix had doodled the two of them holding cafecitos and giving thumbs-ups while Baby sat at their feet. Grace snorted, covering her mouth.
“Oh my God, Alix.”
“It’s insane, I know. And it only gets worse.”
Each page was a snapshot of their story — inside jokes, disasters, tender moments disguised as comedy.
Avoid brownies unless supervised.
Don’t text the lawyer after midnight unless you want feelings.