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But when we get to the entrance, the maitre d’ doesn’t even look at me. He just checks one of their IDs and credit cards and escorts us to a private dining area. I guess certain credit cards do all the talking.
We arrive at a round table with a white tablecloth and heavy silvery cutlery. I shift from foot to foot, unsure of what to do.
Mr. Gold Suit pulls out a chair for me. “After you.” He grabs the straps of my backpack and slips it off of me. I roll my shoulders in relief.
I eye him as he tucks my backpack under the table. “Thank you guys for saving my ass. But you don’t have to have dinner with me.”
He shakes his head. “I know what it’s like to do long-term traveling in your 20s. A good meal would have gone a long way for me back then. Let us spoil you.”
Let us spoil you. Those words feel intoxicating as they bounce around in my weary brain. I look him up and down. He looks to be in his 40s. His bold choice of suit makes me assume that he has a wild side to him, so traveling the world doesn’t surprise me. But it’s hard to imagine that this man ever needed a hot meal. He drips wealth and order. His sandy brown hair is perfectly parted and slightly slicked back and his skin is glowing like he’s been kissed by the sun despite it being in the middle of winter.
And he’s spot on about me. I am so ready for a hot meal.
“Thanks,” I nod and extend my hand. “I’m Holly. I would offer to pay you back, but I probably can’t even afford the water here.”
A smile spreads over a face. “Holly? Well, isn’t that just perfect? I’m Klaus. Like Santa Klaus, which works because you can consider us your three Santas for the evening. Order anything you want.”
I look at him skeptically. Klaus? Santa Klaus? For real?
Mr. Emerald Suit steps in and takes my hand. His hand envelops mine like it’s a delicate little bird he could crush. He is so tall and broad and fills out his suit damn well. “I’m Kris. Like Kris Kringle.”
“And I’m Nick.” Mr. Red Suit takes my hand and kisses it. Warmth spreads from the spot his lips touch my hand into my entire body. “You can call me St. Nick if you’d like.”
“Hold on.” I cock an eyebrow. “Klaus, Nick, and Kris? You guys are messing with me!”
“We’re not.” Nick is chuckling now. “There’s a story behind it.”
I look him up and down again. His deep red suit and perfect Christmas accessories. “Are you guys like some kind of weird Santa cult? Oh god, is Christmas fetish a thing? I’m a prime target with my name. But how did you even find me?” Now I’m word-vomiting on them. I’m good at that when I’m overwhelmed.
They don’t seem too concerned, though. They’re all cracking up. Nick even has to wipe his eyes from laughing so hard.
“It seems a little sketchy, doesn’t it?” He finally says through his laughter.
“A little sketchy?” Now I’m laughing too. “This whole thing feels like a fever dream. Three handsome older men swept me away to the most exclusive lounge in the world. And on Christmas Eve dressed like what I imagine Santa would wear if he was a hot billionaire. And then introducing yourselves with Santa-adjacent names?” I sit myself down while my words trail on and on. I’m doing it again. Overwhelmed? Christmas crazies? It’s all blending together at this point.
“Handsome older men, huh?” Klaus says while tucking my chair in.
“That’s what you took from all that?” I look up at him. Our eyes lock. He’s got the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I stare at them for a moment as if I’m still a tourist visiting one of the wonders of the world.
“What I would like to know, Miss Holiday-”
“Holly.” I correct him.
“Holly Holiday,” he continues unphased and sits down next to me. “Is why you were sneaking into the service entrance before we came along?”
“Well, it’s almost Christmas.” I shrug. “And I kind of have this thing about Christmas…” I trail off, unsure how I can even begin to explain my headspace right now.
“Oh, please continue.” Nick’s eyes light up.
I don’t know what it is about them that makes me open up like a blooming amaryllis. Their attention on me is so acute and intense that I want to deserve it. I want to give them whatever they want.
“I’ve always resented the day. I grew up with really strict parents who wouldn’t do any of the traditions that other kids’ families did. Instead of presents, we had hours and hours of prayer and church.”
Nick clicks his tongue in disdain, Klaus mutters under his breath, and Kris shakes his head.
“So,” I continue, appreciating their reactions. “Once I got to be on my own, I noticed that I still dreaded the holiday. Even though I wasn’t under my parents’ roof anymore. One year, I made a pact with myself. I would do one thing that would really piss off my parents if they found out, one completely and utterly indulgent thing, and one…”
I trail off. This part I’ve never said out loud.
