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My heart starts to squeeze at the look in her eyes. “Lil bit. I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to.” She wipes at her tears, but more keep falling. “It’s all my fault.” She bursts into tears, and I scoop her up and hold her as she cries.
“No, shhh.” I kiss her tears away. “It’s not your fault. I won’t leave you and Sylvester.”
“Oh, Sylvester is already at the North Pole,” Cinnamon says brightly. “Cats are inherently magical and always welcome at the Pole, so we took the liberty of—”
“You stole my cat?” I grit my teeth.
“He’s having a great time. You’ll see when you get there.”
“For the last time, I’m not—”
“Mac.” She says my name so softly I almost miss it. But I don’t, because I hang on every word from her lips.
“Lil bit?”
Her eyes are still watery as she kicks her feet, telling me to put her down.
I do.
“Go.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You have to go.”
“No.” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“Mac, I’m serious. Leave.” Her eyes harden. “Go with Cinnamon Stick. I’ve already killed Santa. I’m not going to ruin Christmas for innocent children. You have to be Santa.”
“Lil bit, please.” My heart constricts even more, and that call to a distant, snowy land grows louder in my mind.
“I have to let you go.” She takes another step away from me, and when I try to go to her, she shakes her head. “Go. Get out.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“Yes, you are.” Her chin wobbles, but again she moves away from me.
“Lil bit.” I can feel myself falling apart on the inside, my heart sinking and ripping to shreds. “Please don’t do this.”
“Go!” She shouts and turns away. “Get out of my house.”
“There has to be another way to—”
“There’s not!” She straightens her spine. “Get out. Now. Go to the North Pole. Be Santa. If you don’t give the world the magic it needs at Christmas, I never want to see you again. Now go!”
It’s as if she struck me. The heft of her words is like a fist to my gut.
“I’ll be, um … outside …” Cinnamon backs onto the porch.
“I mean it, Mac. Go or I’ll never forgive you.”
I reach for her and rest my hand on her shoulder.
She shrugs me off. “Get. Out.”
I let my hand drop and stare at her, desperate for her to turn around, to tell me she wants me to stay.
But she doesn’t. Not even when I walk onto the porch as the snow falls heavy and thick. My heart is destroyed, but I won’t ignore her wishes. I’d do anything if it meant I got to see her again, to hold her.
“It’s the right call,” Cinnamon says softly.
I glare down at him. “Let’s go.”
16
JOCELYN
The ache is getting worse. I rub my hand over the center of my chest. The pain grows every day. I miss Mac terribly, and no matter how busy I keep myself, I can’t escape it. I thought time was supposed to heal all wounds. Mine’s just getting worse.
I roll over and hug the pillow to my chest. I need to get up. I never stay in bed this late. I’m always up early and moving about. It's a little after ten, and I haven't moved from this bed. I haven’t gotten a lick of work done, either.
I made a promise to myself last night that I wouldn't lie in bed all day again. That I’d get up and finish putting up the rest of my Christmas stuff. That bit of bluster is dying as I contemplate another day with no Mac.
My phone starts to ring, and I jump up, grabbing it quickly.
“Hello?” I rush to answer.
“Morning, Jocelyn.” Ted’s voice comes through my phone, and my heart drops. I want to kick myself for getting my hopes up that it would be Mac on the other end.
“Hi, Ted.”
“You got a couple packages down here that were returned. I wanted to double check the addresses with you if you don’t mind.” As much as I don’t want to get up, I know that I need to make sure the people who ordered from me get their packages. Ted is going out of his way and saving me a trip by calling. It would be easier to fix it over the phone.
“That’s sweet of you. Let me get my laptop.” I get out of bed and head for the kitchen. I pull up my orders and Ted fixes the addresses for me.
“Are you okay?” Ted asks once we get everything squared away. The question hits me hard. No, I’m not okay. I feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I glance over in the direction of Mac’s house. I miss him so much that sometimes it’s hard for me to breathe. Even though I know I had to let him go. That it was for a greater good. None of those things comfort me late at night when I’m left alone with only my thoughts. I don’t say any of that out loud to Ted though.
