Grace!
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and text my best friend.
Me
Grace!!!!
Shit. No service!
Santa doesn’t have Wi-Fi?
Calm down, Charlie, I tell myself. Just take a deep breath and calm the f down. I turn the sink on and splash cold water on my face and stop myself from hyperventilating.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
“You’ve got this, girl,” I tell myself. “Stetson’s hot. His dad is Santa and you’re in Christmas village. How cool is this?”
I realize I’ve been staring at myself for an unusual amount of time and need to leave asap before I decide to just lock myself in the bathroom and never come out.
I give myself a thumbs up for good measure before I open the door and step out into a reality I would never have imagined, like not even in my wildest imagination.
I make my way back to father and son. Though their physique is literally the polar opposite, they do bare a striking resemblance. Good old Santa was probably a very handsome man back in his day.
“Have you had dinner?” Stetson’s father asks me as soon as I return.
“We’ve had hot chocolate and a few rolls,” I return with a shy smile.
“Ahhh, this is excellent news!” He returns. “I’m making my famous hearty beef and root vegetable stew!”
“That sounds delicious,” I respond graciously.
It sounds like a meal meant to put us to sleep and not in the way I’d like.
“You really don’t have to include us,” Stetson returns quickly.
I look over at him and smile. Interesting. He looks pale and almost like he’s going to be sick. I wonder if he had one too many of those rolls?
“Nonsense,” his father waves his argument off with his hand. “I never get to see you like this. It’s always work. And I’m excited to get to know Charlie Horseman.”
His gaze settles on me in that unsettling way.
“Are you handy in a kitchen, my dear?” He asks.
I cock my head to the side.
“I’m not a culinary expert but I did cook a lot for my baby brother,” I tell him, remembering the times I used to cook for my little brother.
He smiles at me in understanding.
“Yes, yes. I remember that.” Santa says as he places his hand on his chin again, lost in deep thought. “You were quite ingenuous with a box of macaroni and cheese! Ethan loved those meals.”
And just like that, I lose my shit and burst into a fit of tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Okay, okay. I’m crying in front of Santa Claus.
And guess what? He really looks like him too. In the best way and when he gives you his jolly old smile, you die a little inside because you remember how excited you’d get when you were a kid and all you wanted to do was see this man.
