“Shut up,” she seethes. “It’s Christmas.”

Mom sets a timer, then throws herself into the crowd. “Three, two, one—smile, everybody!”

We gather around her phone to check out the picture. Only three of us were prepared for the camera to go off. Dad tries to weasel out of participating by insisting he be the one to take a redo, but Kaia saves the day, figuring out how to set the timer for fifteen seconds.

“Everybody scoot in!” Mom yells like our lives depend on it. “Bettie, scoot in! More!”

I’m practically in Hall’s lap. He eases an arm around me, and I can’t help it. I do a very fiancée-type thing, and lay my cheek against his shoulder. Hall tilts his head slightly to rest on mine, which pleases me more than it should. Please don’t let my meter go up, I think. The camera flashes and I glance askance, half expecting Hall to be gone. But he’s still here.

I sigh in relief.

“Did we get it?” Mom asks, running back to the camera. “Oooh, that’s a good shot.” She lifts it and unexpectedly snaps another of just Hall and me. “Lovely! You could use that to announce your engagement, Betts. Do you want me to take some of you two out in the snow? Making snow angels! Now that would be cute. We could write your wedding date in the snow, if you have a date. First thing in the morning, that’s what we should do.”

I don’t answer, kissing her cheek good night. Then I turn, catching Hall as he changes the channel from Frosty the Snowman to the local news. I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s a sad movie,” he says by way of explanation.

“It’s a Christmas cartoon. I’m shocked you don’t love it.”

“Frosty melts.” He places the remote very carefully on the TV stand so that he won’t have to look at me. “When the winter fun is over, he has to go away.”

My heart squeezes. “Oh.” Right.

We all do the good-night rounds. I’m the best aunt ever because I can reach the cookie basket that Sean hid on top of the fridge, handing out cookies in secret because c’mon, it’s Christmas Eve.

“Night, Grandma.” I air-kiss my grandmother, who has paired her pajamas with a matching blue wig. “Merry Christmas Eve, everybody.” I hug Grandpa, who keeps me for a second longer. I assume he’s going to press some pocket money into my hand, but instead he surprises me.

“Don’t let that one go,” he murmurs at my ear.

“Huh?”

He nods at Hall, who’s hugging Dad tightly, eyes closed, smiling beatifically (Dad is trying to be annoyed but failing). “The way he looks at you. I’ve been paying close attention, to make sure he’s good enough for you . . . He’s just enamored.”

My mouth is dry. My gaze irresistibly flits to Hall, who feels me watching, and our eyes lock. He flashes that devastating grin, and it’s automatic, how quick I go boneless.