The little girl waited near the back of the line, her small wheelchair decorated with tinsel and a red velvet bow. She had a stuffed cat clutched in one hand and big brown eyes that kept darting between me and her mom. The crowd was loud—bells ringing, kids laughing—but she was quiet, fingers twisting the handle of her chair. I could see she only had one foot peeking out from under the Christmas blanket.
When it was her turn, one of the elves started to help her forward, but I waved gently. “Hold on there, sweetheart,” I said in my best Santa voice, trying to make it warm but not booming. “You stay right where you are. I thinkSantaneeds to come toyouthis time.”
Her mouth fell open a little. “Really?”
I stood up carefully—my back wasn’t what it used to be, but I didn’t mind—and crossed the short distance between us. The lights glittered on her sparkly red headband. “You know,” I whispered, bending down, “Santa’s been having a bit of troubletoday. Too many toys to check, not enough Christmas magic. Think you could help me out?”
She blinked. “Help you? How?”
“Well,” I said, pretending to think very hard, “every Santa needs a special fairy assistant to make sure the magic keeps working. Someone kind, someone brave, someone who believes in Christmas even when it’s hard.” I gave her a solemn nod. “I think that sounds like you.”
Her smile came slowly, like sunrise. “Really?” she said again, stronger this time.
“Really,” I said, reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out a shiny candy cane. “Here’s your fairy wand. It’s got peppermint power. Use it wisely.” I took hold of the wheelchair and parked it right next to where I was sitting, turning it to face the crowd. “Now, you need to grant the wishes. it’s a very important job.”
She giggled—an honest, bubbling sound that made my chest tighten. “Can I make a wish?”
“Of course.” I was terrified what she’d ask for because I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it happen.
She closed her eyes, face scrunched up in fierce concentration, then whispered something I couldn’t hear. When she looked up again, her whole face glowed.
“What did you wish for?” I asked softly.
“A kitten,” she whispered. I glanced at mom who bit her lip but nodded determinedly.
I had to blink hard. “That’s the best wish I’ve heard all day, and because you’ve been such a brave girl, you’re going to get a kitten.” I managed. “Now—how about a picture with your favorite Santa and his brand-new fairy assistant?”
She laughed, and even her mom joined in, brushing at her eyes. The photographer snapped the photo while she held her candy-cane wand high, grinning from ear to ear. We only had a dozen kids left, but she took her job very seriously. Whenthey started to go, she turned back and waved when her mom wheeled her away. “Merry Christmas, Santa!”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” I said. My voice cracked just a little.
And for a moment, standing there in that ridiculous red suit, I didn’t feel like a man pretending to be someone else. I just felt…happy.
At the end of the kids’ party, the crowd thinned. Parents herded their kids out, waving, clutching paper snowflakes and their “Santa was here!” stickers. I stood by the tree, hands stiff under the gloves, and for the first time, I let myself look.
He was there. Felix. On the edge of the room, half-hidden behind a cluster of bored-looking junior execs. He wasn’t talking to any of them. He just watched.
My heart hammered so hard I thought the beard would fall off. I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him, but my whole body zeroed in on every shift of his shoulders, the way he stood just a little apart. The suit and tie were perfect. The ginger hair looked even more vibrant under the Christmas lights. I was so busy trying not to stare that I nearly tripped over my own foot.
I made it through the rest of the party on autopilot, laughed when Max shyly came to see me. But I could feel his eyes on me. Watching. Assessing. I loved it. I hated it.
Olivia cornered me just as the kids’ party ended. She looked tired, but happy. “You’re killing it, Santa. I knew you would. My brother’s actually smiling, did you see that?”
I glanced toward Felix. I couldn’t help it. And saw the almost smile.
She laughed, softer this time. “He never smiles at these things. He’s always too busy. Maybe you’re magic or something?”
I shrugged, not trusting myself to talk. The energy running through me was all nerves, all want. I’d never wanted to impress anyone more than I wanted to impress him right now.
The evening crowd was louder. By the time the “adult” office party started, my hands were shaking from the sugar and adrenaline. The crowd thinned, but the laughter got louder.
I caught Felix’s eye as I handed a Tipsy Elf mug to an HR rep in a light-up sweater. He didn’t look away, not even when I fumbled the next present and nearly dropped it. The heat in my face could have powered the whole office.
I’d never felt so exposed. Or so alive.
The adults started making requests. Sexy Santa selfies. Somebody asked if I dated outside of Christmas. I laughed and tried to joke, and the crowd liked it, but I could feel Felix’s gaze, steady and sharp, slicing through every mask I tried to put up.
I knew what he was thinking. That I was a joke. That I’d never be anything but a clown in a rented suit. But he never looked away.
