“She’s marrying Jonah. It’s going to be perfect, no matter what happens,” Agnes, always the angel on my shoulder, chirps from the back seat.

Mom seems to absorb that. She turns to meet Agnes’s gaze. “You know what? You’re right. Calla is marrying her sky cowboy—”

“Oh God, Mom!” I cringe through the chorus of laughter.

But she’s right.

I’m marrying Jonah.

In eight days, I’ll be Mrs. Calla Riggs.

The wife of the furry-faced dickhead pilot who all but wrote me off that day Agnes sent him to pick me up from the airport. Who would’ve ever seen this coming? Certainly not me.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach as my attention drifts to the diamond snowflake on my finger. Jonah had a custom band made at the same time, but he has refused to show it to me, and I have yet to unearth his hiding place. Not for lack of trying.

Suddenly it dawns on me. “I need a ring for him!” I completely forgot.

“Oh. Right.” My mom’s deep frown says she forgot, too.

I check the clock. It’s after three p.m. on Christmas Eve. “I’ll drop you guys off and see if I can find something in Wasilla.”

“What? No. You’re not going back out today. This storm is getting worse by the minute.” My mom shakes her head firmly.

“But he needs a ring.” Guilt stirs inside me that this is the first I’ve thought of it. Jonah’s always been so considerate, with the plane pendant that he flew hours away to have custom made, and with my engagement ring.

“We can find one on Thursday,” Agnes promises. “Men’s wedding bands are simple. He won’t want anything flashy.”

“Yeah, but they’ll have to resize it. He’s got those big yeti hands.”

Mabel, whose enthusiasm over dress shopping dwindled half an hour into the first store and who’s mainly sulked for the remainder of the time, snorts.

“Will he even wear it? I mean, he doesn’t seem the jewelry type. You know, your father would leave his band lying around the house all the time. I’d get so mad at him. He finally lost it once and for all while out flying one day.”

“Jonah needs one for the day. It doesn’t matter if he wears it later.” Though he had better.

“We got your dress today. We’ll get the ring on Thursday. No problem. It’ll all work out.”

I steal a glance in my rearview mirror to meet Agnes’s crinkled eyes. “I need a pair of your rose-colored glasses.”

Her smile widens. “That’s convenient because I got you a pair for Christmas.”

My phone rings over the Bluetooth system then and a second later, Diana’s name appears on my Jeep’s screen.

“We’ll be home in five minutes. You can talk to her then.” My mom wrings her hands nervously.

When I called Diana yesterday to explain the situation, she shrieked, told me she hated me, and then demanded that I not replace her with some imposter until I’ve heard back from her. I’ve been anxiously awaiting her call ever since.

I hit the answer button on my steering wheel. “Tell me you have good news?” I hold my breath.

“Get that hot tub ready because your maid of honor is arriving next Monday night!” Diana’s voice blasts over the Jeep’s speakers.

“Seriously? You made it work? Oh my God!” I shriek, a thrill coursing through me.

“Alaska, twice in one year! This is crazy!”

Tears sting my eyes and the weight on my chest lifts. “You have no idea how happy I am! I hated the idea of getting married without you here!”

“Calla, slow down!” my mom yells over our excited chatter.

I feel the moment my tires lose traction as we’re rounding the bend. On instinct, my foot slams on my brake, sending us careening off the road.

Chapter Nine

“What do you mean you’re not calling him?” My mother is brushing caked snow off her jeans when she pauses to glare at me. “What else are we supposed to do?” She throws a hand at the front end of my Jeep, barely poking out from the ditch, its grill facing the sky.

“Call a tow truck?” It comes out as a question; it isn’t much of one.

There was a moment of sheer terror as I gripped the useless steering wheel and we slid down the steep embankment; I was bracing myself for a flip or a crash into the tree line. Thankfully, we spun just enough to slide in backward and my Jeep landed in the snow with a thud and a crunch, leaving us with nothing more than racing hearts. After a nervous chorus of “Is everyone okay? I’m okay. Are you all okay?” and reassuring a panicked Diana, who listened in horror to the entire ordeal, we tested our doors.

Escaping the vehicle was a challenge. Climbing out of the gully in knee-deep snow was an almost comical level of hell—one that has left my mother in a sour mood over her ruined suede ankle boots.

“If you had just listened to me—”

“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Give me a minute to think, okay?” I feel like an idiot. I was going too fast around that bend given the snow cover. I was distracted. And I made a rookie mistake, hitting the brakes the way I did.

And I am never going to hear the end of this from Jonah.

Mom takes a deep, calming breath. “You know what? No one’s hurt. We’re only a couple miles from home. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re going to laugh about this later.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

I leave her to it. “How bad is it?” I call out to Agnes, who’s trudging around in the ditch, her short legs disappearing with each step as she surveys the situation.

“We won’t know until we pull it out of here, but we’re definitely not gonna be able to drive it out. Does Jonah have a winch?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. What’s a winch?” Phil left so many tools in the workshop.

“I doubt it’d be strong enough on that old truck of yours, anyway.” She looks much like a child, packed in that oversized parka and using her mitt-covered hands to climb out to the road on all fours.

“Kelly’s coming to get me,” Mabel announces. Her thumbs fly over her phone’s screen, sending a response to her new best friend, a fourteen-year-old girl she met at the farmers’ market this past summer. “Her house is, like, two minutes from here.”

Agnes’s brow furrows. “Don’t you want to spend time with—”

“I’ll be back for dinner.”

After a moment, Agnes simply nods. She may be frustrated with her daughter, but she’ll never outright scold her. That’s never been Agnes’s way. It also could end up being her downfall, raising a headstrong teenaged girl on her own.

Agnes shifts her attention back to me, blinking against the flurry of snowflakes that even her deep cowl can’t shield. “Do the McGivneys have a winch?”

“Maybe, but I feel like I’m asking them for help for everything lately. I don’t want to drag Toby out on Christmas Eve, into this.” It seems to be getting worse, the wind picking up to the point that the only relief from snowflakes in my eyes is looking down at the ground. I groan. “I’m sorry. This was my fault.”