He gives me a shy shrug.
“I guess,” he returns, then says almost defensively, “but I’m in shape.”
“You sure are,” I agree vigorously, admiring his incredible physique. “Does your dad… I mean, Santa or Mr. Claus… does he look like you too?”
Since I just learned that Santa has a jet instead of flying around the world with his reindeer and sled anything is possible. He could potentially be a hot Santa.
His son certainly is.
He throws his head back and laughs heartily. Like he thinks my question is the funniest one in the world.
“I’m taking that’s a ‘no’?” I return.
“My dad has a belly the size of the fjord we came from!” His shoulders still shake as he laughs. “My sister and I worry about his health.”
I’m guessing a Santa with heart disease or diabetes wouldn’t be good for the brand.
“Does your dad…umm… does he go by Santa or just Mr. Claus?”
Stetson looks vastly amused.
“He goes by Nick,” he tells me. “We’re not formal.”
Of course.
“And your mom?” I ask him.
“My mom died when I was a child,” he says solemnly. “After my sister was born, she was diagnosed with cancer, and it ravaged her. She left us before my sister’s first birthday.”
“I’m so sorry,” I reply.
He’s quiet for a minute.
“It was hardest on my father,” he admits. “My sister and I didn’t know her, obviously. We just grew up with the memories.”
“Still.”
He stays quiet.
“And you have one sister?” I go on with my questions.
“Emily,” he tells me with a nod. “She works in the family business as well.”
I wonder what her role is.
Commander of the dwarves? Captain of the reindeer?
I want to ask him, but honestly, I feel like I need a second before I hear another unbelievable job description that I’ll have to wrap my head around tomorrow morning when clarity hits me like a ton of bricks. But for now, I’m going to keep living in Christmas Land.
I take another sip of the amazing hot chocolate and savor it.
We both stay quiet, the only sound between us is the crunching of the snow under our booted feet as we walk down the path. I look around at the general splendor of this picturesque, fairytale of a village and wonder how this feels like no big deal. Like, I’m not freaking out by any of this at all. I’m in it. During the brief time I’ve been here something’s completely shifted. I’m in a village that the regular population (including my best friend) would think I completely imagined, and it feels almost… normal?
“You know I didn’t believe you,” I tell him what I’m sure he’s already deduced—I blame the spiked hot chocolate.
“And now?” he asks.
“Now…” I tilt my head up and look at him through the corner of my eyes. My mind wanders.
