Epilogue

One Year Later

The snow fell lightly outside, blanketing Christmas Falls in a soft white that shimmered against the strings of lights hung up along Main Street. I twisted a strand of lights around my hand, trying to untangle the knots I’d somehow made worse. Milo shot me an amused look from behind the counter, where he was spooning out a test batch of hot chocolate mix into small glass jars. He’d decided to add a few new blends this season, something he’d dreamed up last summer but only now had time to make real.

A full year had passed since we’d…well, since I’d come back. To Milo. To this town. To myself, I guess, though it was a hell of a road to get here. So much had changed that it felt surreal being here, doing something as simple as decorating the shop.

“Everything good over there?” Milo’s voice broke through my thoughts, warm and familiar.

“Yeah,” I said, giving him a smile. “Just fighting off the spirit of tangled Christmas lights.”

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, filling the cozy space. “Maybe we should hire someone to decorate the place, let them be the ones to wrestle with all that.”

“And take away my one chance to feel useful?” I quipped, trying to mask the warmth spreading through me as I caught his gaze. It was ridiculous how, even after a year, he could make me feel like we were teenagers, sneaking glances and hoping the other didn’t notice.

But of course, Milo noticed everything. He always had.

I had more uses than untangling the lights, of course. Laura’s Uncle Roy and I spent days talking about Shattered Horizons following our first interview. The man had a genuine passion for the series and appreciated seeing the same in me. When it came to discussing a way for us to work together, letting me live in Christmas Falls and work long-distance hadn’t been a problem, aside from him wishing to gush about Vex and Finn and the rest of the gang more often. My work involved trips to New York for all meetings that we deemed benefited from the personal touch. Milo accompanied me to many of those meetings, enjoying the city in small bites and always sighing with relief when we returned home.

As time went on, I found myself so much more comfortable in Christmas Falls. It wasn’t just Milo. It was the people that made this place. They knew each other and banded together in their time of need as quickly as they got together to celebrate someone’s success. Jingle Bites had been receiving a steady flow of orders all year long. Bars, pubs, restaurants, small bed-and-breakfast places, and, above all else, coffee shops needed chocolate treats. It buffed up Milo’s revenue and allowed him to hire help.

I glanced around the shop, letting my gaze fall on the new displays of chocolates and handmade treats that he’d spent the last few weeks arranging. The place was a work of art. His art. The walls were lined with shelves holding carefully stacked boxes, and every detail seemed thought out, from the hand-painted signs to the strings of lights wrapping around the front window.

“I don’t think I tell you this enough,” I said, clearing my throat, “but this shop? It’s amazing, Milo. Really. You built something…incredible.”

He looked up from his jars, brow slightly raised in surprise. “You tell me all the time.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “It’s worth saying again.”

He looked down, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink, and I had to bite back a smile. It had taken us both a while to get used to how things were now—to the fact that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other, waiting for the other to flinch or pull away.

Over the past year, we’d had our share of stumbles. I’d messed up more than once, tripping over my own insecurities and fears. But Milo had this patience about him, the kind that made me believe it was okay to fall as long as I got back up. And eventually, I learned to trust that. To trust him.

“What are you smiling about?” Milo asked, catching me mid-thought.

“Just…life,” I said, feeling the absurdity of it. “Where we ended up. Where I ended up.”

Milo’s eyes softened, and he set down his spoon, crossing the room to stand beside me. For a moment, we just looked at each other, and in that silence, I could feel everything he wanted to say. Everything I wanted to say but couldn’t put into words.

He reached for the lights in my hands, brushing his fingers over mine. “It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, letting the weight of it settle around us. “One hell of a year.”

And it had been. The first few months were tough. We’d navigated old wounds and new scars, learning how to love each other without the weight of the past dragging us down. I had spent nights here in the shop, working beside him, watching him pour himself into each chocolate, each recipe, with a passion that made me wonder how it had taken me so long to realize I loved him. And slowly, I learned to forgive myself for all the times I had let go by.

It wasn’t always easy. I’d wake up some mornings, convinced it had all been a dream—that any minute, he’d vanish, and I’d be back in New York, buried in a job I was about to lose, in a life that didn’t fit. But then I’d walk into the shop, see Milo at the counter with a grin, his hair tousled, and I’d remember: this was real. He was real. We were real.

The bell above the door jingled, snapping us out of the quiet moment. A couple of townsfolk waved, stepping in from the cold to pick up their orders. Milo greeted them with his usual warmth, his voice soft and steady, carrying a cheerfulness I knew he worked hard to keep alive.

When they left, he turned back to me with a smirk. “See? Good thing you’re helping me decorate, or this place would be overrun with unlit lights and tangled garland.”

“Who would ever believe that? Me, the decorating pro,” I deadpanned, and he laughed, a sound that made the air warmer and filled with memories I could feel but never quite see.

As the evening drew closer, the shop grew quieter. Milo had almost finished his test batch, the air rich with the smell of chocolate and orange, cinnamon, and something else I could only describe as…him. I strung the last of the lights around the window and stepped back, feeling a strange mix of pride and contentment.

Milo joined me at the front, crossing his arms as he surveyed the work. “Not bad, Christian. I think you might be getting the hang of this.”

“I had a good teacher.”

“Too cheesy,” he warned, nudging me with his shoulder, but he was smiling.

For a long time, we stood there, staring out at the street, watching the snowflakes drift down. It was strange, being in this place where everything had started. Strange and good.

When I finally turned to him, he was watching me, his gaze so intense it took my breath away. “You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine.

I shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Just…thinking.”

He didn’t push, just waited, his hand warm and steady on my shoulder.

“It’s just,” I began, taking a shaky breath, “sometimes I think about how close I came to losing this. To losing you.” The words came out rough, and I felt something tighten in my chest. “And it scares me. Even now.”

Milo’s expression softened, and he moved closer, so close I could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing. “You didn’t lose me,” he said softly. “And you won’t.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words settle. He always knew what to say. He always knew how to make me feel like I belonged, not just here but in my own skin, in this life we’d built together.

When I opened my eyes, he was still watching me, a soft smile on his lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a laugh rise in my chest. “More than okay.”

And I was. I was more than okay.

“Good.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, and in that moment, everything felt right. It didn’t matter that we had a whole town to win over, that there were nights we’d go to bed tired and worn-out from work. It didn’t matter that we didn’t have everything figured out, that some days would still feel hard. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t figured out where to live since his studio was too small for both of us, and I dreaded to imagine us moving in with my parents. It would come in its own time.

What mattered was here, was now, was the weight of his hand in mine, the warmth of his smile, the quiet promise in his eyes that this was ours. And that was enough.

As we pulled apart, Milo reached up and untangled a strand of lights from my hair, laughing softly. “There,” he said, “all set.”

“Yeah.” I smiled, taking his hand in mine. “All set.”

Together, we stood at the window, watching the town come alive under the glow of Christmas lights, the snow settling softly over everything. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for something to go wrong. I didn’t feel like I was holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I was home.

Did you enjoy Mingle All The Way? Follow Hayden Hall on Amazon for more heartfelt love stories and revisit Christmas Falls in No Elfing Way if you haven’t read James and Ezra’s story.

The End.