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I’m not sure what that has to do with the storm, but I nod.

“The road up to the house is closed, apparently,” I lament. “The tree and decorations aren’t coming today.”

“It’s okay.” Pascal sets down a bag of supplies. They look ready for us to get snowed in for the night and possibly lose power. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

I brace myself to get scolded, but hopefully not fired.

“About that,” I stammer. “I think I may have pissed off the designer and blown our chance at a nice tree and decorations altogether. I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea the storm would shut everything down, or that there’d be such a rush on trees this early, and⁠—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Zander lifts the small axe he must have used on the firewood. “It’s not as if there’s any shortage of trees on the property.”

I glance between them, their cheeks still kissed pink by the cold.

Jarek comes back from the study empty-handed and seems to relish the idea of heading back out into the winter wonderland. Before I can ask if they’re seriously going to chop down their own tree, they’re gone.

I’m not sure whether to be impressed or amused that three incredibly wealthy, annoyingly good-looking men who could ship in a tree from halfway around the world would rather chop down their own at the start of a storm. Still, even with a tree, they’ll need decorations.

While they’re gone, I search the house for anything I can improvise with. It’ll be a far cry from the luxurious décor I ordered, but it might tide us over until I can go shopping. Even if every decorator is booked, I can shop and decorate the place myself once the storm clears.

The one place I haven’t explored is the attic. I don’t expect to find much. This is, after all, a house owned by a wealthy bachelor who only uses it for winter vacations. But to my surprise, the first thing I see up there is a stack of boxes labeled “Holiday.”

I open them and stifle a gasp. Ornaments—loads and loads of stunning glass Christmas ornaments. There’s even a star for the top of the tree, a garland, and a string of lights. Giddy with relief, I carry the boxes down to the study one by one and wait for the guys.

The study gets colder by the minute, even with the heat on. The wind picks up, and snow swirls past the window. Just as the power starts to flicker, the guys return with a splendid, sizable pine in tow.

“Did you really need a tree too big to fit through the door?” Zander scolds as they wrestle it into the study.

“Bigger is better, right?” Jarek laughs.

“Not at the expense of skill,” Pascal teases.

They share a chuckle, give one huge heave, and get the tree inside. The moment they do, the power goes out.

I let out a small squeal of surprise as the room goes pitch-dark. A second later, there’s a hand touching mine.

“It’s alright,” Pascal says. “Just a power outage. We’re prepared for this.”

His fingers brush the side of my hand, and warmth runs through me like an electrical shock.

Within fifteen minutes, they have a fire crackling in the hearth, the tree in its stand in the corner, and bourbon poured. Suddenly, things feel cozy, warm, and festive.

“You found the ornaments!” Jarek says as we gather by the fire.

Zander lights a few candles, and Pascal hands me a glass. I take a sip, and the liquor warms me like a tingling bloom as it slides down my throat.

“Yes. I was trying to make up for things and still get some decorations up tonight.”

“Make up for things?” Zander asks, joining us. “You have nothing to make up for, Nina. Unless you can control the weather, none of this is your fault.”

I bite my tongue before reminding him that, technically, pissing off the designer was my fault, and change the subject before the guilt sets in.

“These ornaments are stunning. Where did they come from?”

Jarek lifts the star from one of the boxes—a brilliant gold, glass-blown tree topper.

“My grandmother,” Zander says. “My father stopped enjoying the holidays when I was a kid. But my grandmother tried to make Christmas special before she passed away. I haven’t put them up in years.”

I try to think of the right thing to say, knowing how losing a family member feels. But I don’t get the chance.