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Matty blinked rapidly, the way he did when he processed his feelings, and then he nodded. “Okay. I need to talk to him about something.”
“I thought as much,” Renzo said, then grinned as he started the car and, surrounded by the smell of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, headed toward the little Christmas market.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Emil usedtwo hands to scratch at his chin, which was going to look like he did the first time he got beard burn. Only he wasn’t sucking face with some hot guy. He was wearing a goddamn, belly-length white beard, which was only second to how irritated the rest of his body was under a wool and velvet Santa costume.
It was the first and last favor he was ever doing for Dahlia. Her company had rented out the Christmas market for the kids, but their Santa had canceled last minute.
Emil, who had gotten an amazing lead on the most perfect condo, became the victim.
“I’ve never done that before in my life,” he’d argued. “I don’t like children.”
“You don’t have to like them,” she begged. “You just need to pretend. And you promised you’d do anything for that condo listing. Besides, if you do this, I’ll be your best friend forever.”
“I thought we had already agreed to that,” Emil said, but he could feel his resolve cracking. Past Emil would have laughed in her face, then poured himself a drink to sit back and watch small children cry. But his therapist was encouraging him to do more—to do things differently.
To take risks, even ones that made him uncomfortable.
In retrospect, he didn’t think Sarah had a Santa costume in mind. She probably meant being more open with people and sharing parts of his past when he felt ready to. She probably meant asking someone out if he found them attractive and making future plans.
But in the moment, he just heard her voice reminding him that he was the one who said he wanted to be a better man than the one who’d shown up there.
Now, he could taste regret.
After the fifth small infant screamed inconsolably before shitting their diaper right on his thigh, he begged for a reprieve. They put theback in ten minutessign up, and Emil pulled the beard down to survey the damage.
Not the worst he’d ever looked, but not the best.
“I got you cocoa,” came Dahlia’s voice as she slipped in through the little faux gingerbread door.
He glared at her. “That isn’t what I want.”
“Yep, but that’s what you’re getting. It’s got cinnamon in it,” she singsonged as she waved it at him.
He snatched it and took a drink, hating how good it tasted. “How much longer do I have?”
She rolled her eyes. “An hour. And I know you can do it.”
Emil set the cocoa down and rubbed both hands down his face. “I’m going to get a disease from these little creatures. One of them sneezed in my eye.”
Dahlia gave him a pat on the arm. “Well, I’m probably going to get a nice holiday bonus for finding you, so I’ll take you out once you’re not contagious.”
Emil groaned, squeezing his eyes shut before he turned back toward the mirror. “I make the worst Santa.”
“And yet, the little ankle-biters don’t seem to care. Nut up, baby. It’s showtime.” She slapped his ass before slipping out of the little cottage, leaving him to his last moment alone.
The beard was even itchier than before, but Emil managed to hide his winces as he walked back out and did his best approximation of a Santa laugh. From some of the looks on the parents’ faces, he’d failed, but the kids were so high on sugar cookies, candy canes, and sweet drinks that they likely didn’t know where they were.
He sat back down on the seat and stared at the queue. It was at least fifty people long.
Fuck his fucking life.
* * *
“We have a special visitor,” one of the elves whispered into his ear just as the line was nearing an end.
It wasn’t the first time one of the elves had said that. He’d gotten half a dozen kids with mobility issues and two Deaf kids that allowed him to break out his old, rusty college ASL. As much as his heart was probably an atrophied lump of coal in his chest, it warmed and actually made the whole thing feel worth it.
