Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“I wanted to apologize. I overreacted with Kevin.”
“Tell that to the few hundred people you freaked out,” I said.
“They won’t remember. The beast was only meant for him to see.”
I shook my head and took a sobering breath. “Beau, I don’t think this thing between us is going to work out.”
“Because of what you saw? It wasn’t me, Meri. It was an image Kevin projected onto me.”
I sighed. “It’s not that. It’s…” I struggled to articulate what was milling inside my heart. “Remember when we talked about having restless souls? I thought I’d grown out of all that, but honestly? I think I just put that energy into college, then work and throwing a party every year.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I need to be a hobo for a while—travel, get out in the world, find—”
“But if you choose a life with me, you will do all that,” he said.
“You didn’t let me finish.” I exhaled. “I need to find myself, Beau, not jump into a crazy dream with you.”
“So you don’t believe it’s real?” he asked.
“Oh. I do. I believe in Santa, and I believe in you. But,” I paused, “I don’t know if I believe in us.”
He jerked his head back like he’d just been slapped. “You don’t…love me?”
“I actually don’t know, but I do know that taking over for your dad is what you’re meant to do. I can see you becoming…”
“You can say it. I’m becoming Santa.”
I winced. It sounded just too weird. “Yes. That.”
“But I don’t want to do it without you, Meri, because you might not believe in us, but I do. And I love you. What’s the point of spreading joy if I have no one to share mine with?”
I looked down at my feet. “I think that’s up to you to figure out.” I walked over to my desk drawer and grabbed the gold keys. I walked over to him and kissed his cheek softly. “Say hi to your dad. Tell him not to be such an asshat anymore.” My eyes went wide. “I swore!”
Beau nodded defeatedly and took the keys. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Merry Christmas, Beau.”
“Meri!” my mom called out, knocking on the door.
“Just one sec…” I looked over, and Beau was gone, leaving behind the scent of sugar cookies in my room. Damn, he forgot to tell me what soap he uses.
I opened the door and let my mom in.
“Hey, how was the rest of the auction?” I asked, masking the devastation stirring inside. Being with Beau didn’t feel right, but neither did ending things.
“Well,” Mom said, “after that little turd was tossed out on his keister, Libby finished the rest of the bids, but I don’t think anyone was into it much. People just went home after. It was nice of you, by the way, to take pity on that Kevin after he treated you like that.”
“That’s all you remember?” I asked.
“I remember him being drunk and trying to get in his car. You took control of the situation and got him into your truck.” She hugged me unexpectedly. “You’re a good apple, Meri.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She released me from her arms.
“Oh, hey. I don’t think I’m coming back for Christmas.” I’d mail them their modest, thoughtful gifts, but I knew I’d need time to digest this new reality.
“But that’s your birthday, sweetie. We always celebrate together. Then there’s mass and presents and—”
“And I appreciate the work it took to make sure every Christmas felt special. I really mean it. But I think this year I’d like to figure out how to do that for myself.”
She stared for a long moment, motherly affection in her eyes. “Well, okay. But we’ll be here if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled an envelope from her jacket pocket. “Libby said you had the winning bid.”
I took the envelope and opened it. “This is the trip to Greenland. But I didn’t bid…” I smiled. “Never mind. Thanks, Mom.”
“Night, honey. See you in the morning.”
I shut my door and hugged the envelope. “Thank you, Santa. It’s just what I wanted.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After my trip home to the mountains, the days flew by.
First, I gave notice at work, telling them I’d be taking my remaining vacation days as planned. So while my last official day would be December 31, I’d turned in my laptop on the twentieth—four days ago.
Next, I gave notice to the landlords and began the task of packing up my stuff. I donated all of the holiday decorations, including the items in my storage locker.
The rest of my belongings—sofa, bed, and kitchen stuff—would all be put into a much, much smaller locker.
Where would I go? What would I do for money after my savings ran dry? I wasn’t sure, but something deep inside said it would all work out. I guessed you could say I had faith.