Epilogue

Joey took a seat at the bar and surveyed the festive crowd that packed Sully's restaurant as Mariah's All I Want for Christmas Is You drifted out through the sound system, reminding even the Scroogish of all individuals that Christmas was a week away. If that wasn't enough, countless lights and ropes of pine garland adorned every wall and window of the establishment, sparking plenty of holiday spirit for the season.

The side of Joey's mouth tilted up when she spotted Pacey chatting with customers at a corner booth as he poured them some coffee. His head bobbed and he chuckled at something one of customers had said, accentuating once again how being personable truly put Pacey in his element as a restaurateur. In the year and a half since Sully had handed over the reins to him, Pacey turned this place into one of the most popular eateries in the city, earning rave reviews in Customer Reports and the New York Times. Not only did people love his food, but they also loved Pacey Witter, the man. Of course, this wasn't a huge shock to his wife.

Pacey glanced in Joey's direction, his eyes appearing to slowly take her in like savoring a chilled sip of the most expensive champagne, making her forget for a second all that bombarded her mind. One moment, he signaled to her by holding up his index finger. Their plan had been to have a quiet night in, decorating their new townhouse for the holiday, and hopefully celebrating some big news after her meeting today. But sometimes fate had different plans, Joey thought, trying to keep the turbulent waves at bay in her stomach.

"Well, what's the verdict?" Pacey asked Joey a couple minutes later when he approached, his voice carrying an eager child-like quality.

Joey waited a beat and then she grinned. "They bought it. They bought my manuscript!" Her eyes widened after she'd said the words. She was still digesting the momentous news that she would in fact be a published author. When she had begun writing a memoir all those months ago, she'd known that being a professional editor wouldn't give her an automatic opening to becoming published. She had to work for it. She wanted to work for it.

The memoir would be about her cancer scare. This meant she had to plunge deep into the whirlwind of emotion that she had experienced. It had turned out to be very theoretic exercise and helped her become more self-aware to her misgivings. However, this book couldn't just be a health journal about determining whether to get a prophylactic mastectomy. It had to pull at the heartstrings and be relatable to the reader. Therefore, she'd opened up about her complex and intricate relationships, especially with Pacey, turning the memoir into a true love story.

"What did I tell ya?" Pacey replied, pulling her into a hug. "I knew your publisher couldn't bypass such a superb manuscript." He kissed her forehead.

Joey leaned back and looked him in the eye. "And how, pray tell, do you know it was superb?" A rule a professor once gave her was to never let your friends or family read your unpublished work to avoid bias opinions. And Joey stood by that rule, even from her adoring spouse. It wasn't that she didn't trust his opinion; it was that she trusted his opinion a little too much.

"I just know you are a talented woman and you wouldn't be anything less than superb." He gave a boyish smile. "I can't wait to get my very own copy, so I can finally read it, by the way."

"Uh-huh." Joey laughed and then sobered. "Are you just about ready to go?"

Pacey sighed. "Unfortunately, we're out two waitresses. Becky and Tara have the flu. I called Drue, and we're trying to find backup, but everybody has holiday-related plans."

"I bet Drue loved that."

"Actually, he was relieved. He was looking for an out to having dinner with Cheryl's parents."

Joey turned toward the kitchen.

"Where do you think you're going?" Pacey called out.

She spun around and smiled. "Just because I'm about to be a published author doesn't mean I've forgotten how to wait tables."

Her husband chuckled. "Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

Joey laughingly rolled her eyes. 'Why do you think I'm doing this?" She snickered walking backward through the swinging doors.

…

"Home sweet home," Pacey tiredly announced a couple hours later as they entered the foyer of their townhouse that was only a few short blocks away from Sully's restaurant. It was just about to turn 9pm, and the crisp smell of snow hung heavily in this New York night air, giving them the perfect opportunity to make use of their stone fireplace, which had been one of the draws that made the newlyweds want this place to be their first official home—well, that, and the brand-new renovated kitchen, Pacey noted satisfyingly in his head as he took off his coat before he turned toward his wife. "Anything worth mentioning?"

Joey riffled though the mail. "It's only bills and junk—oh, we received a Christmas card from Grams and Sully." She opened it and held up a card with the Eiffel Tower lit up with red and green sparkling lights encircled by a large snowflake. The older couple had decided to take the leap and take a trip to Paris together after Joey had spoken of how memorable her time there was. Sully had wanted to make the most of his retirement, and he'd helped Evelyn slowly come out of her shell of grief after Jen's passing. After all their loss, they found a sense of peace and understanding with one another. "They say that they're having a wonderful time," Joey relayed their message, "but they promise to be back in Capeside next week for Christmas Day."

Pacey nodded and dryly replied, "Sure, who wants to miss a Witter-Potter Christmas with our fathers in charge." Last year John and Mike had put Clark Griswold to shame with their over-the-top light display for the Icehouse that sent Capeside Mass into a massive blackout for almost forty-eight hours straight.

"Don't remind me." Joey grimaced. "We're still paying for that."

"Don't I know it." Pacey scoffed and then turned the subject to the current evening. "Now what do you say I'll make a fire and then cook us up something to eat." He moved toward the living room.

"Wait, Pace."

He stopped mid-step and pivoted back around with a brow raised.

"Can you go up and get the box of ornaments that Bessie sent? "Joey asked with a weary voice, her eyelids appearing half-shut. "It's in the guest room. My feet are killing me from waiting tables."

"Then, wait for tomorrow, Jo. There's no time-constraint on decorating."

"Yeah, I know—but I want to get it done; I hate that we have a half-naked tree."

His mouth tugged up, "Okay, okay, you're right, it's an abomination having a half-naked tree. What would our neighbors think after all?" We may be blacklisted from the neighborhood block party, and we can't have that, now can we?".

Joey gave him a pointed look, seemingly trying to keep a straight face. 'Are you done?"

Pacey chuckled all the way up the stairs. Even after all these years and he still couldn't pass up an opportunity to needle her, to get her distinctive and lively reaction. It never failed to send a jolt through him, making their life together never dull and constantly surprising, he thought as he stepped into the guest room.

The box sat right there on the bed with the top unsealed. He saw a white, plastic pole sticking out as he moved closer. His hand grabbed onto the object and lifted it up. What the —a baby mobile for a crib dangled down from his outstretched arm. Santa and his reindeer swung from strings. His gaze slowly turned back to the box. A book rested on the surface amid all the homemade ornaments. Pacey's eyes rounded as he stared at the title.

What to Expect When You're Expecting.

With the rest of the box forgotten, Pacey went back downstairs, his mind reeling.

In the living room. Joey was waiting for him by the lit tree. Her expectant face was all he needed to be certain.

Nevertheless, he went in with a joke. "Bess sure doesn't know how to be subtle with her hints of wanting a niece or nephew, does she?" He put down the mobile and book on the couch before closing the distance between them.

Joey gave a wobbly smile. "It's not Bess."

"I know." Pacey grinned. "Jo, why didn't you tell me you had a suspicion?"

"Well, I wanted to be the one to surprise you this time. After all, you are the king of grand gestures." She laughed, her gaze becoming misty.

"But don't you think our baby's the grandest gesture of them all?" He replied, his features softening as he tenderly laid his palm over Joey's still flat abdomen.

"I guess, as corny as it sounds," she said, slightly smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Jo."

"Merry Christmas, Pace." Joey covered his hand with her own, his mouth seeking out hers as they set out on yet another lively journey, together.