Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Chesteria
“The Cabin Chronicles: Decorating With Drama, Dead Deer, and Dior"
After everyone had scrounged up something to eat for breakfast—whether it was a steaming bowl of oatmeal, sugary pastries, cold leftovers, or, in Isis’s case, a mimosa and an avocado toast she “elevated” with truffle oil—we all retreated to the cozy living room.
I leaned forward on the couch, elbows on knees. “Welp… it looks like we’ll be snowed in again today. So I say we make the best of our time here. Who’s up for skiing?”
Isis let out a shriek so dramatic that I half-wondered if a squirrel outside had fainted from the sound. “Skiing?!” She clutched her knit bonnet with both hands, treating it like a prized heirloom facing a sudden gust of wind.
Everyone turned her way. Bryce’s brow furrowed as he stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head right in front of him.
“I like you, Chesteria, but girl, do I look like I came here to wrestle gravity and frostbite?! Y’all want me—Isis Lorraine Dupree—to go barreling down a snowy cliff like a basic bitch in rented boots?
And what, I’m supposed to slide down a mountain in borrowed goggles like a ski orphan?
! Nah. I would need a top-tier sled, insulated lip gloss, fur-lined lashes, and somebody built like The Rock to carry me back up the hill if I fall.
That’s not a cute little activity; that’s a production.
That’s a team sport with a budget. So, unless the mountain comes with heated seatbelts and Idris Elba pouring hot cocoa shirtless… respectfully? It’s a no for me, sis.”
Me and Adrian shook our heads in unison, unable to suppress our laughter. Bryce continued to stare at Isis, still in disbelief.
“I ain’t never been skiing,” Adrian acknowledged. “I would be down, but this knee of mine is still outta of commission. I’ll fuck around and break this muthafucka for real.”
Just that fast, I had forgotten about his lil’ injury. Although, I still think he was milking it harder than a cow in a lawsuit.
“Oh yeah. I forgot about your legendary fall from grace.”
“If I was interested—which I’m not—how would that have worked anyway if the power is out?” Isis questioned.
I nodded toward the frosted window. “Private resort perk. Lights still out past the ridge, but this side of the mountain got its own backup power grid. They got a generator for the ski lifts and warming hut. I called the lodge manager earlier, just in case. We could’ve book a group slot, and they’ll send a guide to the trailhead near the cabin.
All we would’ve had to do was bundle up and show up. ”
“Cool, cool,” Adrian said, nodding as he processed the information.
“But even if my knee wasn’t fucked up, I still couldn’t go.
Shid, I ain’t got no sled, boots, or snow pants.
All I got left is a pair of joggers, a puffer jacket, and some Timbs.
Ain’t no way I’m letting my Timbs hit a slope.
I’d come back with busted knees, a lawsuit, and a GoFundMe for my medical bills. ”
I chuckled lightly, letting my eyes sweep over Adrian and Isis. “Next time y’all take a cabin trip, please pack more than just clothes, weed, and a whole damn Sephora starter kit.” I directed that last part squarely at Isis. “No shade, boo… but the truth.”
Isis playfully rolled her neck. “Well… if you must know, I did bring essentials. I brought four glosses, edge control, and my silk scarf. Survival comes in many forms. I came to endure… in style.” She smirked.
“And, Chesteria, let’s not act like you didn’t enjoy me walking around here looking like a bougie snow angel. ”
Adrian stifled a laugh by coughing into his fist. “A snow angel with demands and Dior.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“So… since skiing is clearly out of the question,” I said, standing up and stretching my arms overhead, “what bright ideas do y’all have in mind?”
Then, inspiration struck me like a bolt of lightning.
“Oh! Wait a minute! I have something we can do! I’ll be right back!
” I exclaimed, my excitement bubbling over as I scurried off to one of the smaller guest rooms, where we stored boxes filled with random holiday decorations and seasonal items. After a few seconds of scanning dusty labels, I spotted the faded one marked Christmas tucked in the corner.
“Bingo,” I muttered triumphantly to myself, brushing dust off the lid.
I picked up a hefty, lopsided box. Its contents shifted and rattled ominously as I lugged it toward the living room, my arms straining as I shuffled forward.
As soon as Bryce caught sight of my struggle, he groaned dramatically, shaking his head before standing to lend a hand, like he already knew what was coming.
Bryce hated putting up decorations, but he always ended up loving the finished look once everything was up.
“Thank you,” I expressed, slightly out of breath as he took the box from my arms with ease.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, effortlessly setting it down as if it weighed nothing. “I told you about trying to be superwoman, too.”
I gave a small smirk, brushing a curl behind my ear as I caught my breath. “And yet you always come to my rescue. Must be your thing.”
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Or maybe it’s just you.”
“Okay, what is that?!” Isis blurted, squinting like the box was alive. “Is that a box of trauma or joy? ‘Cause right now it’s giving both!”
I grinned. “This, everybody… is decorations. Since Christmas is in two days—and it’s very possible we’ll still be here—we might as well make the best of it by bringing some joy to the cabin, and act like we’re a functional family who didn’t let the snow kill our holiday spirit!”
I popped the lid open, revealing a tangled avalanche of lights, crushed garland, glittery snowflakes, and a questionable Santa hat.
Isis scrunched up her face, her expression adorably exaggerated. “Yeah… no. I rebuke all those knots in the name of La Mer skincare products and limited-edition Jo Malone candles!”
“Man… I thought putting up decorations was a woman’s job,” Adrian said, as if that would excuse his reluctance to help.
I raised an eyebrow playfully. “If you can't untangle basic lights without breaking a sweat or needing a dramatic meltdown, just say that, Adrian.”
“I almost forgot how much you love to decorate,” Bryce muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like I had just handed him a hefty toolbox full of stress-inducing tasks.
I patted his shoulder, a sweet yet firm gesture.
“You’ll be fine. This will be just like old times…
except this time, we have more hands to help out.
And just so you know, this wasn’t on the top of my ‘fun things to do while snowed in’ list, but I’d rather stay busy than sit around sulking, bored, or beefin’ over who drank the last juice pouch.
” I narrowed my eyes playfully. “And just so we’re clear, if nobody helps, nobody eats. ”
Adrian shot up fast like he’d been activated. “Okay, so how Christmasy we talkin’? Are we goin’ Nutcracker hood classic or Macy’s window realness?”
Laughter erupted around the room.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, tossing him a roll of garland like a relay baton.
“Well,” Isis started, fluffing her curls and striking a pose, “when I was younger, in my household, we always decorated with music. So can I be in charge of the vibes and playlist curation?”
“Yeah… as long as you’re not trying to play that orchestral Mariah Carey remix or some overly luxurious jazzed-up mistletoe meditation.”
Isis shot me a look, her hand settling on her hip, as if I had just insulted her very essence.
“Chesteria, I may exfoliate while drinking champagne and speak fluent ‘soft life,’ but when it comes to Christmas, I’m a cinnamon apple candle-burning, seat-dancing, gift-wrapping savage… and a trap queen at heart when it comes to my music.”
With a dramatic twirl, Isis held a crystal vase stuffed with fake poinsettias like it was a Grammy award.
“Don’t let the YSL heels and collagen lip mask fool you.
You’re not the only one who twerks in seats, mirrors, or hosts rap concerts in the car before clocking in.
I got a whole trap playlist ready to go.
Santa gon’ be twerkin’ by the fireplace before sundown, and Mrs. Claus might just pop something’ in them red boots. ”
I cackled, handing her a cluster of silver icicle reindeer ornaments and a sparkly “Let It Snow” sign.
“Well, here you go, DJ Jingle Traps. Add your sparkle to the kitchen décor.”
Isis’s eyes gleamed with excitement, lighting up like LED lights on clearance.
“Yesss! Imagine Snow Barbie meets Chanel flagship! The kitchen’s about to slay!
” She pivoted on her sock-clad feet and called back to Adrian, “Let’s go, partner!
And don’t drag your feet!" She glanced at his knee.
"Well... not too much! But we have work to do! I may have flunked food prep, but I aced Home Décor with a minor in Glitterology, and I refuse to be defeated in the glamorous execution of our holiday aesthetic!”
Adrian muttered, trailing behind her. “Come on, Ice Queen. Let’s go put glitter on the stove.”
It’s not a competition, Isis, I wanted to tell her, but I just let her march off like a bedazzled general with a mission to turn the kitchen into a holiday magazine spread.
“That girl,” I turned to Bryce, shaking my head amusedly. “There are a few more boxes in the back. Can you grab them for me?”
“I got you.”
Bryce returned a few minutes later, carrying multiple boxes like they weighed no more than a guilty conscience. “I’ll be right back,” he announced, already heading for the door. “Gotta grab something out the shed.”
“Okay,” I responded, barely looking up.