Dylan threw back his head and laughed, which seemed more than a little out of character. “How much time did it take you to make all of the snowflakes?” He pointed to the flurry of paper cutouts fluttering above them. “It’s a regular blizzard of paper snowflakes.”

Angi felt color creep up her throat. The snowflakes, like the snowmen, were a somewhat last-minute addition to the decor. She’d needed something to keep herself occupied once she had the falling-out with Gabe. Knowing he didn’t feel for her what she did for him somehow only made her yearn for him more.

So she’d spent far too many sleepless nights cutting out snowflakes at her mother’s kitchen table to prevent herself from reaching out to him. To dull the ache in her heart that had only seemed to ease when she’d finally gone to his house and he’d taken her into his arms.

Now she could at least take comfort that her silly way of passing the time had resulted in something magical. There was a lesson in that somewhere, but at this point Angi was too frazzled to discern it.

“I had fun with it,” she said, which was somewhere between the truth and a big fat lie.

“We appreciate you.” Carrie gave her a gentle hug, and Angi felt the delicate bones of the other woman’s shoulders. “The festival wouldn’t have been the same without your help.”

“I was glad to help,” Angi said. “Gabe and I both were.”

“You make a shockingly good team,” Dylan told her with another chuckle, which died instantly as Carrie winced. “What is it?”

“I’m fine.” Carrie smiled, but the corners of her mouth looked tight. “In addition to everything else, I have sciatica. It’s all worth it, but I’ll be happy when this baby arrives.” She cradled her still-flat stomach. “We should go before more people arrive. I’m not up for a lot of socializing tonight.”

“Thank you for coming by.” Angi squeezed Carrie’s hands. “I’ll take lots of pictures and text them to you. It will be like you’re here, only without people stepping on your toes or having to hear the Macarena.”

“You’re not seriously doing line dances?” Dylan made a face.

“Meredith requested it,” Angi said.

Carrie laughed and took her husband’s hand. “Of course she did. Merry Christmas, Angi. I hope all your holiday wishes come true.”

Angi kept the smile on her face even though she was afraid none of her wishes would come true. She supposed it was time to start wishing for other things.

TWO HOURS LATER, the dance was in full swing, and Angi felt as if her heart might burst from a combination of happiness and pride, mixed with just a touch of melancholy. She’d done it—along with Gabe.

It seemed like nearly the whole town had come out for the event. Couples young and old mixed on the dance floor, everyone smiling and laughing. Angi Guilardi, who had only ever waitressed in her family’s restaurant, had finally stepped out of the long shadow of her last name.