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“Who is it?”
“He’s not a child,” the elf said. “He’s an adult, but he’s…” The elf hesitated, and Emil could tell he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “Disabled. You know?”
Emil did, and he waved him on. “Sounds great.”
The elf gave him a relieved smile, then motioned off to the left, and a short beat later, a very short young man shuffled up, looking painfully shy. He also looked oddly familiar with dark curls and an exact eye color Emil swore he’d seen before. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Standing up, Emil gestured toward the long bench beside his Santa chair. “Why don’t we sit together since you seem kind of old to be sitting on my lap.”
The guy nodded, letting out a nervous laugh, and rushed over to the bench. He sat down so hard the bench creaked under his force. Emil tried to be a bit more delicate since he didn’t trust the cheap décor, and he offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Santa.”
“Mattia,” the guy said. “It’s Italian, but everyone calls me Matty, which is more American.”
Emil laughed. “Yes, it is a little more American. I like both.”
Matty smiled. “Me too. It’s special when I get called Mattia, but only my mom did—and sometimes my brother when he’s really annoyed at me.” He paused for a long beat. “My mom died though.”
Emil’s heart sank. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Matty shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And now my brother and my sister take care of me, and we have one big happy family.” The line sounded rehearsed, and he wondered how many times Matty had been told that when dealing with his grief.
“Well, I’m glad you came to visit. Do you have a Christmas wish this year?”
Matty stared at him, silent, his head cocked to the side. “I know you’re not Santa,” he said in a very soft whisper. “But we can’t tell the kids. They don’t know.”
“I…” Emil faltered. He most definitely hadn’t been coached to respond to that.
“It’s okay. I won’t tell,” Matty said, crossing his finger over his heart. “I know Santa’s just for Christmas wishes, but Renzo says that no one is too old to make Christmas wishes. Even me.”
Emil went cold and then hot, all in a rush, so fast it made him dizzy. “Renzo?”
“That’s my brother,” Matty said. “My Christmas wish is for him, anyway.”
Emil licked his lips and tasted beard. “Oh. Um. Well…of course. I’m happy to hear his wish.”
Matty looked around, and when he was apparently satisfied, he leaned in very close to whisper, “He needs a boyfriend.”
Emil almost choked on his own tongue. “A b-boyfriend?”
“It’s bad to be homophobic,” Matty warned.
“Oh Go—gosh,” he fumbled. “I’m not homophobic.”
“Are you sure?” Matty demanded. “Gay is when boys like other boys.”
Emil’s face was flaming red, which probably worked with the whole rosy cheeks thing. “Yep. I did know that.”
“There’s also bisexual. That means you like…”
“I know what it means,” Emil interrupted in a rush. “But aren’t you supposed to be telling me about your brother’s wish?”
“It’s not Renzo’s wish. It’s my wish for him,” Matty said. “He had a husband before. But he was really, really mean. He hurt Renzo a lot, and then he hurt me, and Renzo cried so much. I think he cried more than when Mom and Dad died.”
Emil wondered if he was actually going to pass out. He had not signed up for this. “I’m so sorry to hear it. Does his husband?—”
“Ex-husband,” Matty said sternly.
Emil cleared his throat and did his best not to emote too much. “His ex-husband. He doesn’t see him too much, does he?”
