Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Excuse me,” I shout through the passenger window of my mother’s car when I spot Santa’s hat on the hood of her Mazda. “You forgot your hat.”
When I fail to get Santa’s attention, I park in the next available spot and slip out of the driver’s seat.
“You can’t leave your car, ma’am. This is a no-stopping zone,” an officer warns when I try to catch up to Santa before he darts through the departure doors.
“It’s his hat,” I reply, showing the officer the impeccably crafted hat with “made by Mrs. Claus” stitched on the inside. “Santa forgot his hat.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” mumbles a little boy who could only be five or six. “You can’t let him leave without his hat, or he won’t be able to talk with the elves when he’s in his sleigh.”
“Oh no,” joins another child with cheeks as rosy as the first. “Christmas will be ruined. You have to give him back his hat. Please, kind lady.”
When I look at the officer for advice, he succumbs to the children’s pleading eyes even faster than I do. After nudging his head to the departure lounge, he says, “Make it quick.”
Nodding, I sprint in the direction Santa went. He should be easy to spot in the crowd. He’d be the only one minus the hat that makes his suit authentic, but the arrivals lounge replicates a Where’s Wally: Santa Edition. They’re everywhere.
My head cranks to the right when a familiar “Ho, ho, ho” bellows over the crowd’s chatter.
It is too realistic to belong to a wannabee Santa and lubricated enough to announce nothing but warm, milky goodness is lining his throat.
When I stop near the customer inquiries station to prick my ears like my father did thirty-one years ago in another country far from here, I overhear the pleas of a desperate man. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to go to Lastres tonight. Tomorrow will be too late.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The last flight to Lastres left this morning.” The clicks of a keyboard are the only noises I hear since I’m too shocked by the coincidence not to eavesdrop. “If you’re willing to take a connecting flight, I could get you on a plane that leaves in an hour—”
“I’ll take anything as long as it arrives in Lastres by Christmas Day.”
“I’m sorry, the connecting flight isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. You’ll spend Christmas in Doha Airport.”
The same children from earlier take up this traveler’s campaign as well. “You’re not listening to what he’s saying. By then, it’ll be too late. He’ll no longer hear Santa’s calls.”
The airline assistant peers down her nose at them. “Santa doesn’t exis—”
“Don’t you dare,” says a voice so clear his identity can no longer be hidden.
“Zane?”
Santa’s hat slips from my grip when the man begging for a flight to my mother’s hometown spins to face me. He was supposed to depart this airport a week ago. He’s meant to be on the other side of the world, so why is he still here, seeking a ticket to my mother’s country?
I give Zane’s belief that Santa is stalking him more thought when the children at his side snatch up Santa’s hat from in front of me before they race to a hatless Santa at the entrance to the departure gates.
After he secures his hat back on his head, Santa’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he bounces them between Zane and me. He watches us until I’m on the verge of booking a psych evaluation before he taps his nose and then disappears into a sea of charity Santas.
“I… Is he…No…” I shut my mouth before I say something that will see me irreparably branded as brainless as a little old lady adds to my assumption.
“I think it’s a sign, dear.” She nudges her head to the mistletoe I swear wasn’t above my head only a second ago before giving me a gentle shove toward Zane. “A girl who refuses to be kissed under the mistletoe will still be single next Christmas.”
“That’s okay. I’m fine with that. There’s nothing wrong with being single.”
“There isn’t,” agrees the man I’d rather oppose my theory than harmonize with it. Zane waits for our eyes to lock and hold before he adds, “But how will I ever learn that lifelong love exists if I don’t get the chance to unwrap the best present Santa has ever brought me?” He already has my heart over the line, but he secures my head, too, when he adds to the saying my father used on my mother on this day thirty-one years ago. “December is a month full of blessings, but if my life is blessed with a woman like you, Kelsey, it’ll feel like Christmas every day of the year.”
EPILOGUE
KELSEY
Almost a year later…
As my phone unexpectedly buzzes, I startle to within an inch of my life. It isn’t the “Ho, ho, ho” ringtone I set since it is only two weeks to Christmas causing my new coronary. It is Zane’s deliriously handsome face popping up on a monitor in front of me.