Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
MAGNOLIA
On Christmas Eve, our whole group had assembled for brunch in the bar. I was keeping the doors closed to patrons for twenty-four hours, and in between obligations of church and cookie swaps with his momma, Lee and I had plans to slap a fresh coat of paint on everything during the brief break.
“So, Dane’s really not coming home for Christmas, huh? Did he at least send flowers?” Doyle was hovering over me as I whipped up pitchers of cinnamon-spiced Sangria.
“He did and a lovely vase from Tiffany’s, which I promptly had to re-box and shelve before Pickle smashed it into a thousand pieces.”
“Speaking of the devil herself, who’s going to take Pickle when you move in with Dane?”
I shrugged, casting a sideways, confused glare at him. “Why wouldn’t I take her?”
“Um, honey, the Drayton is strictly pet-free. And besides, Dane hates Pickle.”
“Everyone hates Pickle,” I countered, stealing a glance at Lee who we all knew loved her to death.
I hadn’t given much thought to moving in with Dane with everything else going on. But with the wedding approaching, things like furniture and the fate of my possessed cat all hung in the air.
What I had thought about—more than I wanted to admit—was that night on the bar floor, Lee’s voice shaking as he told me he’d loved me his whole life.
It wasn’t just his words; it was the way he looked at me, like nothing else in the world mattered but me and him and the space between us.
I could still hear the catch in his breath, feel the weight of his hand on my wrist, steady and warm, like he was anchoring himself in the moment. Anchoring himself to me.
I should have said something—anything—other than running upstairs and pretending I hadn’t felt my entire world tilt. But I did. And now, with Dane’s ring on my finger and a million plans I couldn’t unravel, I wasn’t sure how to make it all feel right again.
“Well, I’m not taking her. My sister Tally’s permanently moving in with me and Jordan.
Don’t tell him yet. He’s going to murder the both of us.
But she’s got this insane poodle named Nancy Reagan who would shred Pickle up like lettuce…
Actually, now that I think about it, that’s a showdown I would love to see. ”
I giggled and handed Doyle two full pitchers and sent him on his way.
Sutton took his spot at the bar. “I didn’t get you in the Secret Santa, but I wanted to give you this at any rate,” she said, sliding the bowed box toward me.
“Oh! I got you something, too, but you’re not my Secret Santa pick, either. It’s just something small.” I pulled out a gift bag from behind the bar, and we both dug into our gifts.
Because of my notoriously lazy wrapping job, her gift from me was revealed first. I’d gotten us matching Alex and Ani bracelets that said Sister on them. I dangled my wrist to show her mine.
“Bestie bracelets! We haven’t had these since we were kids.” She slipped hers on and leaned over the bar to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Finish opening yours,” she said, nodding toward the gift.
I pulled off the rest of the shimmery wrapping paper to find a white box. Inside was a framed picture of all of us, taken selfie-style from our impromptu brunch the weekend Lee came home.
“I figured you could use an upgrade of the gang, including the newest editions to the Savannah Sweethearts.” She smiled, peeking over to see her handiwork.
“I love it. Dane’s missing, though.”
Sutton grimaced and leaned back in her seat. “Sorry, I had a feeling you were going to say that. But I feel like Dane’s been missing since you two got together, to be honest.”
She had a point. Ever since we started dating and he decided to join his father’s firm, he’d been spending less and less time with me and hardly ever spent time with our group at all. Not to mention, all of his alleged scheming and plotting probably took up a good chunk of his time.
I wondered, for the first time, what would happen to all of us when Dane and I got married. What would become of the brunches and the wine tastings, the sleepover parties with Sutton and me, and sometimes Charlie, that still lingered into our twenties?
Would we still go to Tybee Island together every Memorial Day weekend? What about the trips to watch Sutton run her marathons or to see one of Charlie’s exhibits when his work got picked up in a different city?
Or what about just getting together because we had nothing better to do and we just wanted to be around each other?
If I was living life like a Wilder, I was going to have days packed so tight with charity work and socializing, I really wouldn’t have time for much else, especially while running the bar, too.
Sutton slid off the barstool and joined our friends, all sitting around the table covered in poinsettias and cheer, smiling happily at one another and laughing at something my brother said. My heart ached.
Friendships, especially ones like ours, were always teetering on the edge, vulnerable to the seismic shifts that life threw our way.
Weddings, babies, divorces—these milestones were supposed to be beautiful, but they often left scars.
Not all relationships had the strength to weather those storms. As I reflected on everything I’d lost, it hit me—my friends were the ones I’d miss the most. The idea of losing them felt like a heavy weight in my chest, a reminder that even the best moments could change everything.
“Magnolia Louise Pruitt, get that sullen sulk off your face and try these gingerbread pancakes before your business partner here inhales them all!” Sutton was keeled over laughing as Lee shoveled three pancakes in his face at one time, choking and gagging.
As I sat down, everyone was in a roar over it. Lee met my eyes across the table, smiling proudly. He’d never had to worry about losing anything, not the bar, not our friends, not his family.
But for me, I had to risk it all just to survive.