Together again. The first Christmas in god-only-knows how many. But life was good, the fire was warm and their stomachs were full. Snow piled in high drifts around the lodge and the moon cast an eerie blue glow on the hills. The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, blending with the scent of the tree. Logs on the fire crackled and popped, and it was perfect.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I wished on the mistletoe last year.”

“Stars, Nick, not mistletoe.”

He looked around at his friends, reunited. “It worked, didn’t it?”