Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Grace!
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and text my best friend.
Me
Grace!!!!
Shit. No service!
Santa doesn’t have Wi-Fi?
Calm down, Charlie, I tell myself. Just take a deep breath and calm the f down. I turn the sink on and splash cold water on my face and stop myself from hyperventilating.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
“You’ve got this, girl,” I tell myself. “Stetson’s hot. His dad is Santa and you’re in Christmas village. How cool is this?”
I realize I’ve been staring at myself for an unusual amount of time and need to leave asap before I decide to just lock myself in the bathroom and never come out.
I give myself a thumbs up for good measure before I open the door and step out into a reality I would never have imagined, like not even in my wildest imagination.
I make my way back to father and son. Though their physique is literally the polar opposite, they do bare a striking resemblance. Good old Santa was probably a very handsome man back in his day.
“Have you had dinner?” Stetson’s father asks me as soon as I return.
“We’ve had hot chocolate and a few rolls,” I return with a shy smile.
“Ahhh, this is excellent news!” He returns. “I’m making my famous hearty beef and root vegetable stew!”
“That sounds delicious,” I respond graciously.
It sounds like a meal meant to put us to sleep and not in the way I’d like.
“You really don’t have to include us,” Stetson returns quickly.
I look over at him and smile. Interesting. He looks pale and almost like he’s going to be sick. I wonder if he had one too many of those rolls?
“Nonsense,” his father waves his argument off with his hand. “I never get to see you like this. It’s always work. And I’m excited to get to know Charlie Horseman.”
His gaze settles on me in that unsettling way.
“Are you handy in a kitchen, my dear?” He asks.
I cock my head to the side.
“I’m not a culinary expert but I did cook a lot for my baby brother,” I tell him, remembering the times I used to cook for my little brother.
He smiles at me in understanding.
“Yes, yes. I remember that.” Santa says as he places his hand on his chin again, lost in deep thought. “You were quite ingenuous with a box of macaroni and cheese! Ethan loved those meals.”
And just like that, I lose my shit and burst into a fit of tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Okay, okay. I’m crying in front of Santa Claus.
And guess what? He really looks like him too. In the best way and when he gives you his jolly old smile, you die a little inside because you remember how excited you’d get when you were a kid and all you wanted to do was see this man.
And now as a grown ass, flawed as hell adult, I’m standing in front of him. And he happens to be the dad of the guy I want to sleep with and do all sorts of dirty the moment I have alone time with him.
I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
I mean what the actual hell? This isn’t just a, hey maybe I should get something on the books with my therapist moment, it’s more like, might need to put you in full retainer for the next six months while we process this.
I’m actually staring at Santa Claus. I wonder if I should run back in the bathroom and hide, not that hiding will make any of this pan out differently, then I’d be a grown ass adult woman rocking in the dirty bathroom floor.
Rocking around the Christmas tree. Ha, not the time and now the song is stuck in my head along with every other Christmas carol that has to do with Santa.
Why is there no Wi-Fi in Santa’s Village?
“Charlie?” Stetson asks me in concern as I heave the ugly tears no woman wants to do in front of the man she’s trying to impress. It’s too much to take though, it’s not just the information, it’s the actual weight of it getting heavier and heavier the longer my brain cells process.
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to gain more control over my emotions but it’s useless as hot tears stream down my cheeks quickly turning into full-fledged sobs like my life just exploded in front of me.
“I-I-I’mmm o-o…k,” I’m barely coherent as my chest heaves up and down and I try to get a goddamn grip. “I j-just, need...” A minute. A year. Something.
I don’t know what’s come over me.
Lie.
Yes, I do.
Santa Claus just made me remember my childhood and not just the shitty memories—the ones with Ethan that made me happy and made it all kind of worth it. The ones I wanted to hold onto and never let go of—he reminded me of the joy.