Page 19 of Sweet Christmas Comeback
Felicity paused, then laughed. “Sorry. I get a little intense.”
“A little,” Brice teased. “Remember junior year when you reorganized the entire homecoming dance because the colors clashed?”
“They did clash!” Felicity said. “Blue and orange streamers with plaid tablecloths? Brutal.”
Brice groaned. “Don’t forget when you coached me through asking Sarah Manning out. You even coordinated my outfit.”
Jade blinked. “You did?”
“He was wearing clashing colors,” Felicity said, hands on her hips. “It was flannel plaid, but still. Couldn’t let him go down like that.”
Brice rolled his eyes but grinned. “She made me rehearse what to say, too. Wingman of the year.”
“And it worked,” Felicity said smugly. “Two years of dating, you’re welcome.”
Jade laughed, warmth stirring in her chest as she watched them all slip back into the kind of easy banter that only came from years of friendship. She realized how much she’d missed that—how, while she’d been away, the three of them had stayed close. She didn’t have anyone close like that in the city.
They worked together for the next hour, Leo and Brice handling the heavy lifting while Felicity directed with the precision of a general, her enthusiasm infectious rather than bossy.
“You know,” Brice said as he tied off a branch, “this reminds me of decorating for winter formal senior year. Remember that disaster?”
“Oh jeez,” Felicity groaned. “The year the committee decided on a ‘winter wonderland’ theme?”
“What happened?” Jade asked, though she had a vague memory of chaos.
“They used shredded paper for fake snow,” Leo said. “Looked fine until people started dancing and the AC kicked in.”
“It was a blizzard,” Jade said, the memory rushing back. “You couldn’t see three feet, and everyone was slipping.”
“I spent half the night in the coat closet with a shop vac,” Felicity added. “That’s when I swore never again to leave important decorating to amateurs.”
“I remember hiding in the bathroom,” Jade admitted. “My dress was covered in paper bits. My hair looked like I’d rolled in a snowbank.”
“That’s right,” Leo said, his voice quieter. “You wore that aqua dress.”
The comment hung in the air, heavier than he probably intended. Jade felt heat creep up her neck at the memory.
Felicity, sensing it, jumped in brightly. “And that’s why I became a professional decorator. Presentation matters.”
Brice chuckled. “Sure. My truck looks fine, though.”
“Your truck looks like it’s held together with duct tape and prayer,” Felicity shot back.
“Duct tape’s a perfectly valid repair method,” Brice said. “Right, Leo?”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Leo replied, but he was smiling.
Jade stood back for a moment, watching them trade barbs, laughter in the cold night air. This was the Leo she remembered—relaxed, unguarded, part of a group that fit together effortlessly. And she realized how much she’d missed being part of that.
When the last ribbon was tied, the bakery front looked festive and authentic enough even for Cecily.
“It’s perfect,” Jade said, meaning it. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this alone.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Felicity said, handing her a steaming latte.
“Speaking of friends,” Brice said, loading the old garland into the truck, “Leo mentioned you’re planning a trial run tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow evening,” Jade confirmed.
