Epilogue 3 Eb
I used to think Christmas was a crock.
Too many lights. Too many songs. Too many feelings.
Then Marigold happened.
Now I’m a guy who bakes cookies at midnight, gets excited about matching pajamas, and has strong opinions about tinsel versus garland.
I even let Bobby decorate a snow Badger in our front yard—until Emery begged Uncle Uzzi to enchant it to dance, and I had to chase it down the block.
I’m still a grumpy Badger. That’ll never change.
But I’m Marigold’s grumpy Badger.
And that changes everything.
Because the truth is, I don’t need magic mistletoe or enchanted cocoa or twelve-foot nutcrackers to feel the spirit of the season.
I’ve got my mate.
My Honey.
My forever.
And for this Badger?
That’s the only holiday miracle I’ll ever need.