BONUS SCENE

Cora

Twenty-Five Years Later…

Snow drapes over Wolf Valley in thick, feathery blankets, creating that pristine winter scene I’ve always adored. Through the living room window, the glow of our Christmas lights spills onto the fresh snow, casting a cozy, golden light.

I take a moment to admire the scene outside before turning back to the kitchen, where I’m arranging our little New Year’s Eve spread. Cheese, olives, crackers, my favorite cranberry brie bites—everything’s perfectly in place. It’s tradition by now, these little treats, just enough for us and a few close friends who promised to stop by later.

Behind me, the sound of laughter spills from the living room, where Huxley’s deep, unmistakable voice carries through the house. “And there it was, the biggest moose I’d ever seen, and it looked right at me,” he says, pausing just long enough to make his audience squirm with suspense. “And then…” he pauses dramatically, and I can hear the collective gasp from our grandkids.

“Then what, Grandpa?” shouts Sarah, one of the twins, my daughter’s youngest. They’re twins in name, but not in personality. Sarah is more of a shy observer, while Axel is a full-throttle firecracker. And right now, both of them are hanging on Huxley’s every word.

“Then…” he drawls, drawing it out until I can almost hear their impatience, “I realized I was out of film in my camera. So, I said, ‘Alright, moose, you win this round,’ and I turned around, marched right back to the cabin, and made myself the biggest breakfast you’ve ever seen.”

Groans and laughter ensue, and I find myself chuckling too. The story changes every time he tells it, but his knack for dramatic pauses and embellishment? Always the same. Who would have thought my grumpy, silent roommate would become this big-hearted storyteller, entertaining kids like a practiced grandpa?

I’m just wrapping up the appetizers when I feel a familiar pair of arms slip around my waist, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that makes my heart flutter, even after all these years.

“Enjoying yourself?” I turn in his arms, smiling up at him.

He looks as ruggedly handsome as ever, with a bit of silver glinting at his temples and his beard now flecked with white. The years have only made his eyes softer, and right now, they’re crinkled in that way I love.

“Oh, yeah,” he says.

“Are you here to steal some food?” I ask him, and he laughs.

“Maybe,” he says, his grin mischievous. “But I’m really just here to steal a moment with you.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to scold him, but I lean into his embrace, feeling that same old spark as he sways us gently. Outside, I can see the snow falling, thick and steady. It’s the kind of night that seems made for long kisses and whispered promises. I breathe him in, his familiar scent mixed with a hint of pine, and feel grateful for everything that’s brought us here.

“You know,” he says softly, “I was just thinking about when you first moved in with me all those years ago.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and how it was the best thing that I ever did.”

“You mean, sabotaging my rental house?” I ask with a laugh, giving his shoulder a playful smack.

“Yeah, that. Genius move on my part.”

“Uh-huh,” I say with a laugh.

We both fall quiet, and I can feel the warmth of him beside me as I glance around our home, decorated for the holidays and filled with love and laughter. It’s been a good life. A beautiful life, really, with its fair share of challenges and moments that we didn’t think we’d make it through. But we’re here, stronger and happier than I could have ever dreamed.

“You know,” I say, giving him a teasing smile, “I don’t think I’ve heard your resolution yet.”

“Oh?” His face takes on a playful seriousness, though I can see his smile peeking through. “That’s easy. It’s to keep doing exactly what I’m doing for as long as I can. Being here with you, every day. That’s all I need.”

“Smooth,” I tease, rolling my eyes even as I feel my heart swell with happiness. “But I think that was your resolution from last year.”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “It was a good one last year too. Besides, it’s the perfect resolution.”

He holds me close, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my back as we sway together in the kitchen. For a moment, it’s just us, the years peeling away as we’re back to the beginning, two people caught in the whirlwind of a love neither of us expected. It’s perfect.

But, of course, our moment of quiet is broken by a burst of footsteps and giggles as our grandkids, along with a few of the Baker cousins, rush into the kitchen.

“Are we counting down soon?” The twins look up at us, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Huxley sighs dramatically, pulling a stern face as he crouches down to their height. “Well, I don’t know… Have you been good this year?”

The kids shriek and protest, and I laugh, watching Huxley break into a grin as he listens to their wild stories of good deeds and “pretty good” behavior. By now, he’s settled into his role as Grandpa with an ease that’s as effortless as it is endearing. I catch his eye, and he gives me a warm, contented smile, as if to say, look what we’ve made together.

Later, as the clock inches closer to midnight, Huxley sneaks up beside me while the grandkids play a rowdy round of hide-and-seek. “Think we can disappear for a bit?” he whispers, raising a brow.

“Trying to sneak me away already?” I tease, but my heart skips a beat at his suggestion. We slip out onto the back porch, where the snow falls like feathers around us, and the quiet of the winter night wraps around us like a cozy blanket.

Huxley pulls me close, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to keep me warm. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of something deeper than words can say, “there are still days I wonder how I got so lucky.”

“I feel the same way,” I say, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head against his chest. The snowflakes land on our coats and in his hair, but we stay warm in each other’s arms. I can hear the kids’ laughter floating through the air, mingling with the distant sound of music and revelry from the town center.

“What about you, Cora?” he asks, his voice a gentle rumble against the stillness. “What’s your resolution this year?”

“To make more quiet nights like this with you,” I answer softly, looking up to meet his gaze.

“Not too quiet,” he says suggestively, and I grin.

A smile plays on his lips, and he leans down to kiss me, his lips soft and warm against mine. After all these years, that kiss still has the power to send a thrill through me. To make me feel like a teenager in love. He pulls me in tighter, and I lose myself in the warmth of him, the world melting away until it’s just us and the snow falling around us.

When we finally step back inside, the house is filled with music and laughter as our friends start to arrive. Kip and Ginger are first, each carrying dishes of their famous holiday treats, and they greet us with hugs and smiles, instantly joining in with the kids. The Bakers arrive not long after, and soon the house is full of warmth and noise, the smell of hot cocoa and gingerbread mixing with the laughter of our friends and family.

As midnight approaches, Huxley grabs my hand, pulling me into a cozy corner of the room. Everyone gathers around, counting down the seconds, and as the clock strikes midnight, Huxley turns to me, his green eyes sparkling with the same love and admiration I’ve seen every day for the past thirty years.

“Happy New Year, Cora,” he whispers, his voice full of promise and love.

“Happy New Year, Huxley,” I reply, leaning up to kiss him as the room erupts in cheers and laughter. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close as we share a kiss that’s full of all the years and memories we’ve built together, and all the love that’s grown and deepened over time.

As we pull back, I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the window, framed by the lights and snow falling outside, and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the life we’ve built together. It’s a life filled with love, laughter, and a happiness I never dreamed was possible.

Later, as the grandkids are tucked into bed and the last of our friends have gone, Huxley and I stand together on the back porch, watching the snowfall in the quiet of the night. He pulls me close, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we lean against each other, content and at peace.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice soft in the silence, “I’d do it all over again. Every crazy moment, every stubborn fight, every silent morning when we couldn’t find the words. I’d go through it all again just to be here with you.”

My heart swells, and I blink back tears as I look up at him, my husband, my best friend, my forever. “Me too,” I whisper, leaning into him. “Every bit of it, Huxley.”

As we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the snowfall in the quiet of Wolf Valley, I know that whatever the New Year brings, we’ll face it together. And there’s no place I’d rather be than right here, with him, on this quiet, perfect New Year’s Eve.