Page 117 of Notes About Vodka

“We brought reinforcements!” Rhea announces dramatically, setting the sunflowers on the counter and giving Val apointed look. “Now you can fuss over these instead of slicing her finger again, Val.”

“Where’s Sebastian?”

“Parking the car, he will be up in a minute,” Rhea explains.

Amelia gives me a sympathetic smile as she sets the pie down carefully, grinning. “Injury or not, Laura, it’s the holiday. Nothing like a pie to sweeten up any situation.”

“Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to make dessert!” I tease, reaching over to pull Amelia in for a hug.

She shrugs, unbothered. “You’re right. But it’s for a good cause.”

Sebastian steps in a moment later followed by Dot. Eventually even Mads trickles in.

Val looks around at everyone, his gaze softening as he takes in the scene. “Alright, everyone grab a plate, because these leftovers aren’t going to eat themselves. And if anyone dares to make Laura chop anything, you’re getting the boot.”

We settle in around the living room, plates piled high with yesterday’s dishes. The turkey is still moist, the stuffing’s just as savory, and the cranberry sauce has somehow gotten even better overnight. It’s the perfect spread, and I feel that familiar warmth as we all dig in, watching football and laughing like no time has passed since yesterday’s kitchen mishap.

“So, Laura,” Skipper says with a mischievous smirk, “how’s your ‘professional’ knife skills course going? You aced the first test, I assume?”

“Oh, obviously,” I say, playing along. “Got a ten-out-of-ten on the ‘look away while chopping’ lesson.”

Val chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll name a kitchen technique after her. ‘The Laura’: distract your sous chef by nearly losing a finger.”

“Hey, I just wanted a little drama for the holidays.” I laugh. “What’s Christmas without a good story?”

As the game plays on in the background, we drift from one conversation to the next, reminiscing over embarrassing childhood holiday stories, debating football teams, and making outrageous bets on which team will win. Rhea sits cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in the game, while Amelia leans back, laughing at every playful dig Val throws at the opposing team.

After a while, the sun dips low, casting warm, golden light through the windows. Val nudges me gently, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Next year, maybe we’ll stick to safer foods. Bread rolls, maybe a no-cut salad.”

“Or,” I counter, grinning, “we let you do the chopping.”

Everyone laughs, and the room fills with that sense of ease and comfort that only happens around true friends. The chaos of the day before fades further and further away, replaced by laughter, good food, and the simple joy of being together.

Late that night, as we step back into our apartment from taking out the trash, the warmth and smell of the holidays greet us. Val helps me sit down at our couch and then kneels in front of me, holding my hands.

“Where were we?” he asks softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Before I can respond, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a rush of emotions—excitement, love, anticipation. He opens the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring that sparkles in the kitchen light.

“Laura, will you marry me?” Val asks, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

My hands fly to my mouth in surprise, and tears spring to my eyes. “Yes! Yes, Val, of course, I will!”

I laugh, tears of happiness and relief mingling with the earlier shock. “Yes.”

He slips the ring onto my finger, careful to avoid mybandaged one. It fits perfectly, and I feel a surge of joy and love wash over me.

“We’re engaged,” I whisper, hardly able to believe it.

Val leans in and kisses me gently. “Yes, we are. And I promise to always take care of you, even when you’re too excited to handle sharp objects.”

I laugh again, amazed that this man wants to marry me.

Chapter Thirty-Four

LAURA

“In Russia, there is a saying:

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