"He doesn't speak much English," Samantha purred as they walked down 5th Avenue, "but he knows exactly how to handle a pole. It’s the season of giving, Carrie, and I am feeling very, very charitable."

"Is it just me," Carrie typed later that night, her laptop glowing in the dark of her apartment, "or is Christmas in New York just 'The Nutcracker' on speed? We spend all year trying to find 'The One,' only to realize that in December, 'The One' is actually a dinner reservation for four at Balthazar that doesn’t require a blood sacrifice."

As the orchestra began a swelling, orchestral version of "Oh Come All Ye Faithful," Carrie looked across the ballroom. There was Charlotte, beaming as Harry accidentally knocked over a nutcracker; Miranda, finally laughing as Steve dragged her onto the dance floor; and Samantha, led by her Norwegian god, heading toward the coat check with a very specific look in her eye.