I shrug. “Jolly or not, she’s also taking in the fact that the myth is in fact, a reality.”
He brushes the comment off and turns his inquisitive knowing gaze to mine.
“So tell me…”
“You know as much as I do.”
He watches me pensively.
“I like her.”
“Me too,” I reply.
“You do know what you’re getting yourself into,” he says this with a hint of warning.
“She signed the clause,” I remind him.
“She did,” he nods in agreement.
“I’ve told her everything.”
“Everything?” he askssolemnly, but I can see the surprise.
Hell, I’m surprised.
In all my life I’ve never heard my father sound like this. I narrow my eyes suspiciously. Wait a second… I thought only two of the seventeen descendants of Claus found their mate for life? This information was passed down from my father like an old family tale. My mother was thethird?In all the years, he never said my mother had been his true mate and my sister and I had never questioned it.
“Mother?” I look at him in surprise.
“I never told you,” his voice sounds sad. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”
“Frighten me?” I reply, hating the uncomfortable feeling that blanketed me.
“Losing the one is the hardest pain to survive. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of her or feel the pain of her loss.”
I let his words settle in.
To be honest, I’m shocked as hell.
In all my life, he never let on to this. Yes, he’s always spent an unusual time alone, but we always thought it was about his role but now, I’m thinking it’s always been something else.
“The ache, my son,” he sighs and shakes his head in sadness. “The ache. It consumes me some nights.”
And just like that, my life flashes before my eyes. I remember moments from growing up when my father felt so sad, even though he portrayed the opposite. The times he’d go off alone at a party or with family and stare off into the distance thinking.
Now I know what he was thinking about.
“It’s both the greatest blessing and the greatest curse because without her, you will know no peace.”
And that’s all it takes for my dad to scare the living shit out of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“No, you are not crazy, Charlie.” I say as I stare at myself in the mirror in the guest bathroom. “That man outside with the huge belly and kind face is actually Santa Claus.”
With my hands gripping the sink and my eyes as wide as saucers I try and talk myself of the Christmas ledge.
This can’t be real. But it’s real. This is not a dream. This is not an episode of some pranking reality show. This is happening in real time. I need to talk to someone. I need…
