Chapter 16 #2
“Perfect for pictures by the tree. Emily wants to document everything for the baby book she’s making.”
From the living room came the sound of a heated discussion about whether Die Hard qualified as a Christmas movie, followed by Ryan’s incredulous protest that Die Hard was for Christmas day, they had to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas on Christmas Eve.
“Family traditions,” Will said with a chuckle.
“The best kind, the ones that happen naturally instead of being forced.” Tara moved into his arms, and he caught the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the cookies she’d baked that seemed to cling to everything. “Thank you for this.”
“For what?”
“For making it feel like we’ve been a family forever instead of just a few months. For fitting in so perfectly that I can’t remember what Christmas was like before you were here.”
Will kissed the top of her head, tasting the sweetness of the day in her hair. “Same to you. All of you.”
Through the window, the snow had intensified again, creating a white curtain that made the cottage feel even more isolated and cozy.
Across the lake, a few other houses showed lights in their windows, each one its own story of Christmas Eve, families gathered around tables and trees and the particular magic that came with the longest night of the year.
“Come on,” Tara said, taking his hand. “Let’s go make sure everyone has what they need before bed.”
They made their way around the cottage, turning off lights and checking that the fire was safely banked. Christina had fallen asleep in her chair with her laptop still open, and Will gently closed it while Tara draped a soft throw over her daughter’s shoulders.
“She works too hard,” Tara whispered, smoothing Christina’s hair back from her face.
In the living room, Ryan and Sam had moved to the floor in front of the tree, playing a quiet card game while the dogs dozed nearby.
Emily and Evan had retreated to the guest room, but Will could hear them talking softly through the walls, probably making last-minute plans for their own Christmas morning.
Ally had disappeared, probably to her greenhouse, where she went when she needed space to think. Will had noticed her phone lighting up throughout the evening with messages she hadn’t responded to, and he suspected he knew who was trying to reach her on Christmas Eve.
“Everyone’s settled,” Tara said as they climbed the stairs to their attic bedroom. “Tomorrow’s going to be wonderful chaos.”
“The best kind,” Will agreed, following her up the narrow staircase.
As they reached the landing, he could hear the wind picking up outside, rattling the old windows and sending snow against the glass. But inside the cottage, everything was warm and safe and exactly as it should be.
Christmas Eve was settling over Blueberry Hill like a blessing, and Will had never felt more grateful to be part of the story being written within these walls.
* * *
The greenhouse offered a refuge from the gentle chaos of the cottage, though tonight even her plants couldn’t quite settle the restlessness that had been building since Christmas morning became inevitable.
Ally sat on an overturned crate between rows of winter seedlings, Daisy warm against her legs, listening to the wind test the glass panels overhead.
Her phone rested on the potting bench beside her, screen dark now after the series of messages that had arrived throughout the evening.
Each notification had sent a small flutter through her chest, not because Colton was saying anything urgent, but because his words carried the weight of everything she’d left behind in New York.
Hope you’re having a good Christmas Eve. Thinking of you and the family.
Daisy’s probably loving the snow. She always did like winter better than I expected. Did the horses like the apples?
Wish I could see the cottage all decorated for Christmas. Bet it looks like something from a movie.
Through the greenhouse windows, she could see exactly what he was missing.
The cottage glowing against the snow like something from a fairy tale, every window casting warm light across the white-covered yard.
It was picture-perfect, the kind of Christmas scene that belonged on greeting cards or in her mother’s carefully curated holiday memories.
The greenhouse door opened with a soft creak, letting in a gust of cold air along with Sam, who hesitated as if unsure whether she was intruding.
“Sorry,” Sam said quietly. “I saw the light. Everyone’s inside debating whether to watch a Christmas movie or play another round of Scrabble. Thought you might want some company.”
“Come in before all the heat escapes.”
Sam settled on the floor beside Ally’s crate, pulling her knees up to her chest as Bella and Daisy sniffed around the plants.
She wore one of Ryan’s oversized sweaters and thick wool socks, her dark hair escaping from its ponytail in soft curls.
The space heater hummed in the corner, creating a pocket of warmth against the December night.
“Your family’s nice,” Sam said after a moment. “I mean, I know they’re your family so you probably don’t think about it, but they really are. The way they just... make room for people.”
“They’re your family too now.” Ally glanced toward the cottage, where silhouettes moved behind lit windows. “How are you feeling about everything? The grandmother situation?”
“Good. Scared, but good scared, if that makes sense.” Sam picked up a small seed packet from the workbench, studying the picture of summer flowers on the front.
“Mrs. Collier texted me a few photos today. My mom at my age, painting in the same room I’ll be sleeping in.
It’s like getting to know her all over again, but before everything went wrong. ”
“That must be incredible.”
“It is. But also complicated, you know? I hate my parents for how they were, and I love them, too.” Sam sniffed, setting the seed packet down carefully. “I’m angry all the time.”
Through the glass, they could see Ryan and Christina in the cottage living room, heads bent over what looked like a board game. Emily had claimed the couch again, with Evan hovering nearby in that protective way he’d developed since her pregnancy advanced.
“Can I ask you something?” Sam said suddenly.
“Sure.”
“The person who keeps texting you—do you love them?”
The direct question caught her off-guard, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Sam had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, probably a survival skill developed over years of having to read people quickly and accurately.
“Yeah,” Ally said quietly. “I do.”
“But you’re here and he’s not.”
“Because it’s complicated. Because love doesn’t always mean you can build a life together.” Ally’s voice came out rougher than she’d intended. “Because sometimes the things you want most aren’t the things that are best for you.”
Sam considered this, her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation on the greenhouse glass. “My parents loved each other. Really loved each other. But they couldn’t figure out how to love each other and still take care of themselves. Or me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I used to think that meant love wasn’t worth much.
That it was just another way people hurt each other.
” Sam’s smile was small but real. “But watching your family tonight, seeing how your mom looks at Will, how Emily and Evan take care of each other even when they’re worried about stuff.
.. maybe the problem wasn’t that my parents loved each other.
Maybe it was that they didn’t love themselves enough to do the work. ”
The wisdom in those words, coming from a sixteen-year-old who’d lived through more than most adults, made Ally’s chest tight. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
“I’ve had time to think about it.” Sam stood, brushing off her jeans. “I should get back. Christmas Eve Scrabble is apparently a serious business in this family, and Ryan recruited me for his team.”
After Sam left, Ally sat alone in the greenhouse with Daisy at her feet and her phone still dark on the bench.
Outside, snow continued to fall, turning the familiar landscape into something magical and new.
Inside the cottage, her family was building memories and sharing traditions and doing the messy, wonderful work of loving each other despite their complications.
She picked up her phone, thumb hovering over Colton’s contact. Sam was right, love wasn’t just about the feeling itself, but about whether you were brave enough and strong enough to do the work it required.
Maybe the question wasn’t whether Colton could change his life to fit hers, or whether she could change hers to fit his. Maybe it was whether they could build something together that honored who they both were, right now, imperfections and all.
The cottage does look like a movie set
She typed before she could lose her nerve.
Complete with the perfect Christmas Eve snowfall. I wish you could see it too.
The response came almost immediately.
I’d give anything to be there with you.
Ally stared at the words, her heart beating faster. This was it, the moment where she could either retreat back into safety or step forward into the unknown.
Maybe someday you can be
She wrote back.
It wasn’t a promise or a plan, but it was a possibility. And on Christmas Eve, surrounded by the evidence of what families could become when people chose to love each other despite the complications, possibility felt like the perfect gift to give herself.