Holly climbed the narrow stairs to her apartment above the bakery, the scent of cinnamon and sugar still clinging to her hair. She had left Town Hall with the dessert table perfectly arranged, but now she needed to transform from baker to hostess. She slipped out of her flour-dusted apron and into a deep green velvet dress, its soft folds catching the glow of the string lights she’d hung weeks ago. A silver shawl draped across her shoulders shimmered like frost.
Downstairs, the bakery hummed faintly with the memory of the day’s work, but upstairs Holly’s heart raced with anticipation. Tonight wasn’t just another Christmas party—it was the culmination of weeks of planning, tradition, and quiet hopes.
Headlights swept across the window. Lee.
When she opened the door, he stood tall in his
