Page 131 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

“Yeah,” I said simply. “I think I always have.”

The admission hung between us for a moment, honest and vulnerable and completely true. I’d been half in love with Joy Murphy since we were seventeen years old, and what I felt for her now was just the full flowering of something that had been growing in my heart for years.

“Good,” she said, reaching up to touch the edge of my fake beard. “Because I love you too. I love your ridiculous safety consciousness and your secret romantic soul and the way you just saved Christmas by dressing up as Santa.”

Before I could respond, she pulled me down and kissed me, right there in front of half the town, with my fake beard scratching against her face and the Santa hat falling off my head. It was messy and public and absolutely perfect.

The crowd around us cheered even louder, people whistling and applauding like we were the main entertainment of the evening. Someone started shouting “Speech! Speech!” until others took up the chant.

I pulled back from Joy’s kiss and looked around at all the faces—neighbors and friends, families and children, the community that had become my home and my anchor.

“Ho ho ho,” I said in my best Santa voice, raising my arms to acknowledge the crowd. “Looks like Christmas came early to Calton Hill this year!”

More cheers, more laughter, and then the choir began to sing “Joy to the World” with such enthusiasm that their voices carried across the entire town square. The last night of the Yuletide Festival was turning into exactly the kind of magical celebration Joy had envisioned from the beginning.

As the music swelled around us and snow began to fall in fat, lazy flakes that caught the colored lights, I pulled Joy close and marveled at how dramatically my life had changed in the space of a few weeks.

I’d found love again. Real love, the kind that made you brave enough to wear ridiculous costumes and confront your demons in public. The kind that made you want to be better, to fight harder, to choose hope over fear every single day.

And I found it with a woman who made me remember who I used to be while inspiring me to become who I wanted to be.

“Merry Christmas, Joy,” I whispered against her ear.

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” she whispered back. I could hear the laughter in her voice, the pure happiness that matched what I felt in my own heart. “Is this that costume?”

“Yep.”

“We didn’t leave it too dirty, did we?”

I laughed. “No. All good.”

“I cannot wait to take this off you.”