(Michelle POV)
The walk toward Andy's specially arranged "Halloween Hot Chocolate Corner" felt like the longest procession of my life.
Not because anything dramatic was happening.
No.
Because of the way everyone was walking.
Anthony on my left, silent and stiff.
Steven on my right, also silent and stiff.
Andy slightly ahead of me, hands in pockets, humming like a man who had no idea he'd nearly caused a fistfight five minutes ago.
Jasmine stuck to Anthony's side like a golden shadow.
Lara eyeing Steven like she was monitoring a dangerous chemical reaction.
Kate whispering commentary.
Vince recording everything for "future blackmail."
Jeff narrating like a wildlife documentary.
We were a disaster.
A well-dressed, beautiful disaster.
When we reached the courtyard's steaming drink station—complete with glowing cauldrons, marshmallow towers, cinnamon sticks, and whipped cream fountains—Andy made a sweeping gesture.
