It really was. Even her walker had been decorated with miniature Rudolphs. They must have blown the budget on this room—maybe that’s why they only had enough for five pieces of tinsel for the rest of the building.

“How did you wangle this?” It put my bedroom to shame.

“Wangle?” She looked confused.

“Yes—you know. Make it happen?”

“No, I understand you, dear.” But her face hadn’t changed. “I just thought you would have worked it out.”

“Worked what out?”

And just then I saw the picture in the corner. The picture of Dottie and Elle and Nick and their family all around the tree.

And the yellow bobble hat stuck on her bedpost—that matched the three in my suitcase from Brooklyn.

And the candy cane garland that matched the one Jess had put up yesterday in their kitchen. When she hunted high and low for a second one, she couldn’t find it.

Right now I was the one who needed a walker to hold me up.

“Believe you me, he’s always been this way.” Dottie flicked a button, a “Christmas Is a Feeling” sign lighting up, Santa waving alongside it. “But from the moment he told me about you, I knew you’d be the one to help him get his spark back.”

Nick had done all this?!

All this work to give his grandma the Christmas she loved?

“You know.” She pulled a thin piece of paper out of her pocket—the strip of photos of Nick and me in the snow globe in Brooklyn. He must have gotten a copy and just given it to her.

“Thanks to you, I don’t just think he’s fallen back in love with Christmas.” She put her soft hand on mine. “I think he’s fallen in love with the British girl who made it happen.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Elle

I told him.

I told Fred I’d met someone who’d made me laugh till I ugly-cried.

Who made me feel hot even when I was a hot mess.

Who somehow always looked cute even though he only ever wore 3D sweaters.

Who didn’t just make me like him—he made me like me more.

And all Fred said was, “He must be quite a guy.” So I’d had to tell him I meant him.

And then we just stood and stared, neither of us knowing what to say.

Thank goodness Colin was there. If he hadn’t tugged to go for a pee, we might still be there.

“I think he needs a wee,” Fred said. That was his reply to what I told him. To saying the person I liked was him.

“I think he does,” I replied.

“It’s snowing,” Fred then said.

“It is,” I replied. Turns out truth bombs can really mess with good talk.

We then continued to point out things that were happening for at least a minute.

“Colin is still peeing.” (Me.)