Jake

Two seconds.

I take my eyes off Kaitlyn Holly for two fucking seconds to ask my mother if she’ll take my daughter home now, and all hell breaks loose.

“Santa’s a girl!” Zoe shrieks. “I knew it! I knew a man couldn’t do all that Santa does!”

Four years old, and she has the world figured out.

I love that kid.

“Get Zoe out of here,” I call to my mother over my shoulder.

Because fake fur is flying—as are some words I’d prefer my baby girl not hear—and the woman I haven’t been able to shake out of my brain for eight long years is at the center of the fight.

I skid to a halt just shy of the gingerbread house façade where Santa’s gold-and-velvet chair is now upended. An animatronic elf is waving a broken candy cane, one pointy ear hanging crooked. Hershey Kisses and mistletoe bits are scattered on the red velvet runner. And a big dude with an Australian accent is declaring, “I got him, Santa, ma’am,” while he sits on my cousin Pete.

Kaitlyn’s fake belly has slid down the right leg of her Santa pants. Her fake beard is hanging off one ear and looks like twelve drunken elves took turns sticking it in a light socket, and though her hat’s gone, exposing her honey-brown hair tied up in a knot, she’s still got bushy white eyebrows plastered to her face above her eyeballs.

“Nice going, asshole,” she snaps at Pete, chest heaving, eyes crackling like coal on fire. “Do you have any idea the level of trauma you’ve just inflicted on all these innocent, spoiled children?”

Whoa.

This isn’t the Kaitlyn I remember—she was all hot chocolate and marshmallows—and her pinched lips and slanted cotton-puff brows are making something ache in my chest.

“Not to mention the damage you’ve done to male egos everywhere now that the world’s going to know Santa’s a woman,” I add.

She whips her head toward me so fast her beard falls the rest of the way off. Her lips part, and she quickly turns back to the preschool director, who also reached the brawl just as the elf-bouncer got it under control. “Little too much holiday cheer this year,” Kaitlyn says dryly. “This is going in my notes.”

When we first met, I’d underestimated her family’s influence in holiday events. Now, I get why the director’s face blanches. If Holly Santa Bookings blacklists a place, good luck finding a sober, competent Santa in this city. “Of course. No more adults on Santa’s lap. We’re so sorry, Santa—er, Ms. Claus. This won’t happen again.”

“And fewer martinis?” Kaitlyn prompts.

“But our parents need—yes, Santa.” She hustles Pete and his wife away, toward their kids and my aunt, who looks three sheets to the wind herself.

Good thing the nanny’s sober.

“See, Grandma? Santa’s a girl! This explains everything.”

Kaitlyn’s gaze drifts past me to where I can hear Zoe coming, and her eyes shutter. She squats down as Zoe barrels past me, and I catch a little wince as her knee hits the ground.

She’s hurt. Not that she’ll admit it. The Kaitlyn Holly I remember never would’ve admitted she needed help.

Not in a bad way.

More like in a Santa’s elf way. Life’s too great for me to let this little two-foot-long icicle sticking out of my ribs get me down! Look on the bright side—I could’ve been impaled by a giant stick and run over by six of Santa’s reindeer at once!

Some of my friends and family had found her cheerfulness annoying, but for ten beautiful months, I’d lived for it. She’d shown me the true meaning of happiness. Not that I’d been unhappy. I just hadn’t known I could be happier until I met her.

Now, her joy is completely gone, replaced by sheer determination as more and more children gather round. “Is this why Santa never gets man colds?” Zoe demands. “Because you’re really a girl?”

“Is there a Mister Claus?” another girl wants to know.

“Why don’t you wear a dress?” a boy demands.

“Gather round, kiddos,” Kaitlyn says. She beckons the kids closer, either ignoring me or playing up her role as Santa to the fullest. Maybe both.

She can pretend I’m not here all she wants, but I knew the minute I walked in the door that it was her playing Santa.

And only partly because I’ve never gotten a boner in my life over a dude.

Biggest regret in life? Not figuring out my shit sooner.

Best Christmas miracle?

Finally finding her again. Yeah, I’ve known the last few years I could track her down through her family, but I wasn’t ready. I was waiting for…

For her to figure it out, I guess.

But she’s here now, and I’m not letting her go without talking to her.

She changed my life. I’m not missing what could be my only opportunity to thank her.

“What a disaster,” my mother mutters. “She never did have any sense.”

Obviously, my mother was heartbroken when her cranberry sauce slammed the final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Kaitlyn. “Oh, I don’t know. She escaped having you as a mother-in-law, didn’t she?”

My mother’s lips twitch, because I’m not the only member of my family who’s had some realizations the last four or five years.

“You all are now officially the newest members of my super secret elf team,” Kaitlyn’s telling the kids. “That means I’m counting on you to not tell my secret to the world. Can you be my super secret elves?”

The kids all nod.

“Good. I know you’re all going to do an amazing job. Because you’re all on my good list, and there are no other children in the world I’d trust as much as I trust you.”

“Is there a Mister Claus?” Zoe demands.

Kaitlyn winks at her. “Oh, honey, I have enough on my plate without managing a Mister Claus too.”

Most of the kids giggle.

The hovering adults don’t. Except one or two of the more intoxicated mothers.

Zoe spins and searches for me. “Daddy, I want a Santa for Christmas.”

“And we’re going home.” My mother steps in front of me and reaches for my little ninja pixie. Zoe’s already been promised a sleepover at Grandma’s house, because Grandma doesn’t have her decorations up yet, and these days, that’s a sin.

Plus, it’s a good excuse for my mother to feed her Christmas cookies and eggnog for breakfast.

“Be good, and use all that tinsel I put in your backpack,” I tell her. I kiss her curls, squeeze her tight, and send her off with Mom.

Kaitlyn’s extricating herself from the remaining kids.

“You’re coming?” my mother asks. Because sometimes I join them.

“Not tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Mom…”

“Zoe…” Zoe chimes in, because she hates being left out.

I ruffle her hair. Kaitlyn’s heading toward the exit. I need to go. “Keep Grandma busy. I’ll see you in the morning, Tweety bird.”

I don’t wait for my mother to voice another opinion. Because I need to see a jolly old elf about my biggest regret.