EPILOGUE

Abby

The bells ringing outside the church tell me it’s time. I force myself to breathe. Passing out from excitement would only delay me saying “I do.” After more than eleven months of wedding planning, I’m about to marry John Barrington, my former boss and now a colleague at the corporate headquarters.

How is this my life?

I wiggle my toes in the new white shoes I’ve been wearing around the house to break them in. I’m so grateful for him and his family and the position I transferred to in February.

What can I say?

This past year has been the best dream ever. I almost want to pinch myself. Emphasis on almost. Maggie and our wedding planner would kill me if I left a mark on my skin. Not really, but they would tell me to wait until the photographs are taken.

Dad wipes his forehead. “It’s warm in here.”

I glance his way, the skirt of my dress rustling. “A little.”

He looks handsome in his tuxedo, and my eyes get misty when I think about Grandpa. I touch the charm with his photo that’s attached to my bouquet. He’s here in spirit and in my heart, and John’s family, especially his grandfather and two uncles, remind me of him.

The din of guests and the faint strains of “Silent Night” played on a harp come through the ornate wooden doors and into the vestibule where I stand. I just want to get going. I’m ready to be married.

“Ready?” my dad asks, his voice tinged with pride and something else I can’t quite place. Nervousness, maybe?

I turn to face him, taking in his impeccably tailored tuxedo and the slightly forced smile on his face. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The months since my confrontation with Mom and Rachel at the bridal shop have been interesting, to say the least. Initial radio silence was followed by tentative olive branches from them. We still have a long way to go, but they’re here today, sitting in the front row as etiquette demands. It’s more out of obligation than genuine joy. And inviting them was important to my dad.

The one person who didn’t let me go without contact was my dad. When he heard what happened, he showed up at my apartment. He admitted he had no excuse for how they treated me, but my mom felt Rachel was exceptional, so he went along with it. He apologized, begged forgiveness, and said things would be different between us. They have been, which is why he’s walking me down the aisle today.

The doors swing open, revealing the winter wonderland in the church’s interior. The wedding planners Maggie hired outdid themselves, transforming the beautiful space into a glittering Christmas fantasy. Crystals and fairy lights twinkle from every surface. Green garlands decorated with red velvet ribbon and white roses drape around the columns.

“I love you, Abby,” Dad says, his eyes gleaming. “You are a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you. I love you, too.”

The strains of my wedding march begin, and I inhale sharply.

Dad extends his arm. “Ready.”

I wrap my arm around his. “Yes.”

We step into the church and make our way down the aisle. The guests’ faces blur. All I can see is John waiting for me at the altar. He wipes his eyes, reacting the way I hoped for when I bought this dress.

As I continue to stare at him, my heart races. He looks like he has stepped out of a magazine in his black tuxedo. So handsome.

His gaze locks onto mine. I drink in the love and adoration shining in his eyes, which removes all the nerves and family drama I was thinking about. Nothing else matters. It’s just us, the two of us, ready to start our forever.

I barely register the smiles of my bridesmaids—Sarah from work and John’s cousin Lizzy.

We reach the altar, and Dad places my hand in John’s. The familiar spark of electricity that’s been there all year gives me a little jolt.

The minister speaks about love and commitment, and I blink back tears. From our first real kiss to John confessing his true feelings, to these past months preparing for our wedding day, I know John is the one for me.

John goes first with his vows.

“Abby, a year ago, I only dreamed I’d be standing at the altar with you.” His voice is steady, but I can see the emotion in his eyes. “Looking back, though, a part of me always knew you were the one. My one. You’ve been my partner in every sense of the word. You’ve seen me at my best and worst, yet you still choose me. I promise to choose you, too, every single day, for the rest of our lives. I promise to love you and Powerfluff no matter what obstacles come our way. We can get through anything as long as we face things together. I promise to always be your biggest fan, staunchest defender, and best friend.”

I wipe my eyes with a tissue. Thank goodness my wedding dress has pockets so I’m prepared.

“John.” My voice wavers slightly, not from nerves but emotion. “For so long, I settled for less than I deserved. You came along and everything changed. Your love helped me to see my worth and make some necessary changes. I fall more in love with you every day. I promise to be your partner in crime and your biggest supporter. I’ll always find the humor in our cheesiness and never stop appreciating all you do for me and others. I promise to love you for the rest of our days.”

As we exchange rings, I glimpse my family in the front row. Mom cries while Dad looks on with a mix of pride and what I now recognize as a touch of regret. Rachel seems envious, especially since she caught Jake cheating with her ex-best friend, but I also see a begrudging happiness, which surprises and pleases me.

The minister pronounces us husband and wife and says it’s time to kiss the bride. John’s kiss is full of promise for our future. I’d love to keep kissing him, but everyone is clapping. As we turn to face our guests, the church erupts in cheers. John’s family is the loudest, which doesn’t surprise me.

We arrive at the reception after having photographs taken, and congratulations, air kisses, and champagne toasts greet us. I glance around in awe. John’s grandmother had the grand ballroom of the most luxurious hotel in town transformed into a winter wonderland that would make even Santa jealous.

A tall, flocked Christmas tree is decorated with twinkling lights, red bows, and gold stars. The dessert table features our cake with sugar snowflakes and a miniature version of Powerfluff as the topper. On either side sit ice sculptures.

I love everything, and it’s more than I dreamed of having. Maggie’s only request was we spend the twenty-fifth with family and leave for our honeymoon on the twenty-sixth. That was fine by us. I want to win the scavenger hunt again.

John squeezes my hand. “Do you like everything?”

“I love it.” I sound breathless. That’s because I am.

“Who would have thought ‘Christmas with the boss’ would turn into ‘Christmas with my husband’?” I laugh, caught up in my emotions and the revelry around me.

Someone pulls John away, and I go to set my bouquet on the head table. Someone bumps into me.

Mom.

She hesitates before hugging me.

“Oh, Abby,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You look beautiful. I’m proud of you.”

I stiffen. Her display of affection catches me off guard. But her hug feels better than I thought it would. “Thanks, Mom.”

She pulls back to wipe her eyes. “Things haven’t been easy between us. But I love you, and I’m sorry for how I treated you all these years. Seeing you today, so happy, glowing, and confident, I may have underestimated you.”

It’s not a full apology. Okay, not even a small one, but it’s a start. “I love you, Mom. There’s always room for a do-over, right?”

She nods. “Enjoy your reception. Save a dance for your old mom?”

“You got it.”

I walk a few feet when someone grabs my shoulder. “Abby.”

I turn to see Rachel, clutching a flute of champagne like a lifeline.

“Congratulations.” The word sounds as if it’s being forcibly extracted from her mouth. “The wedding is…nice.”

That’s a glowing review from her. “Thanks. I’m glad you could make it.”

An awkward silence stretches between us. Rachel sighs. “Look, Abby. Things have never been good between us. I’m… I’m sorry for what I said at the bridal shop. You proved me wrong.”

I blink, wondering if an alien took over Rachel’s body. An apology from her is as rare as a solar eclipse. “I… Thank you. That means a lot.”

She takes a large swig of champagne. “Be happy, okay? Maybe put in a good word for me with John’s single cousins?”

I can’t help but laugh. That’s pure Rachel. “Sure.”

We eat a delicious dinner, dance, and laugh. So much laughter. Our wedding is so fun. I only wish Powerfluff could be here, but she would only cause chaos and most likely destroy the gorgeous Christmas tree with our wedding gifts under the branches.

Sarah corners me by the chocolate fountain—because of course there’s a chocolate fountain.

She raises her arched eyebrows. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Barrington?”

I sigh, something I’ve been doing a lot of since I met John. “It’s the best feeling ever. I still can’t believe John never hated me.”

“I know. He deserves an acting award for his performance.”

We giggle.

As the night flies by, John and I finally get a moment to ourselves by sneaking out onto a balcony overlooking the town. Lights twinkle, and it’s a beautiful sight, but the cold air shocks me. I shiver.

“Here.” John drapes his jacket over my shoulders, the same way he did on our first dinner date. “Can’t have my wife turning into an icicle on our wedding night.”

“My wife.” I snuggle into his jacket, breathing in his scent. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me, too.” John stands behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. His arms go around me, and joy overflows.

A gust of wind sends snowflakes swirling around us, as if we’re standing in a snow globe, and John tightens his arms around me. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I meet his lips in a kiss that warms me from head to toe.

We stay like that, lost in our little world as the snow gently falls around us. A commotion sounds from inside, and we reluctantly break apart.

“Ten bucks says Grandpa is trying to start a conga line,” John says with a wry grin.

I laugh, taking his hand. “You’re on. But my money’s on your two great-uncles breaking out the karaoke machine.”

As we rejoin our guests inside, “Jingle Bell Rock” blasts through the ballroom speakers. John’s grandfather is indeed trying to start a conga line. At the same time, his uncle Ross fiddles with what suspiciously looks like a karaoke machine.

My gaze meets John’s, and we burst out laughing.

John extends his free hand with a flourish. “Ready to join the madness, Mrs. Barrington?”

I nod. “Lead the way, Mr. Barrington.”

We jump into the conga line, surrounded by friends, family, and more Christmas cheer than should be legally allowed. Even Maggie seems caught up in the holiday spirit, and I catch her saying the banned words— Merry Christmas —and covering her mouth.

This wedding day is only the beginning of our adventure at home, at the office, and with family. Our happily-ever-after awaits.

Merry Christmas to us indeed.

* * * * *

Thanks for reading Christmas with the Boss . I hope you enjoyed Abby and John’s story. If you enjoy reading holiday romances, check out my Mountain Rescue Romance series by clicking here .

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