Little Miss Santa Claws

15. Nicole

CHAPTER 15

Nicole

W hen I finally force my heavy eyes open, I realize I fell asleep. In the next breath, I remember where I am. In the North Pole. In the circle of Santa’s arms.

I’m still Cinderella, and the clock is still ticking down to midnight.

I jerk upright, groggily taking in my surroundings. The fireplace is gently crackling, but it’s burning lower now. When I see the pitch darkness lingering outside, I exhale in relief, and the panic coiled tight in my belly loosens—it’s not too late to go home. I have no idea how long we’ve been sleeping, though. A long while, I’d be willing to bet.

My gaze drifts to the elf slumbering next to me.

Her Krampus is gone. Every inch of her body is warm and soft, her complexion pinkish gold, her hair shimmering silver in the firelight. The relaxed pucker of her lips does things to me. I want to lean in and count every last eyelash resting on her cheeks. I want to pull the blankets away from her sweet body and wake her up with my mouth, but I force myself to stay right where I am.

Missy begins to stir, and I quickly slip out from beneath the blankets before she reaches for me. I’ve stayed long enough as it is.

What was I thinking?

Sex was one thing, but catching real feelings for a total stranger? For Santa Claus? Sleep has given me some much-needed distance and perspective . What was the point of this if I have to forget it? Bitterness is setting in, and I can’t shake it. I suddenly wish I hadn’t come here. I wish I had thrown Missy out of my mother’s house and allowed her to save Christmas by herself.

My chest tightens under the weight of those thoughts.

I don’t mean them. Not really. I’m just scared.

This brief fairytale we shared is ending, and I am fucking terrified. I haven’t lost Missy yet, but I already miss her. And I have the strangest intuition that this will be permanent. That even if she does take my memories, this feeling in the pit of my stomach will always remain. She changed me. How am I ever supposed to be happy again? What if I miss her like this for the rest of my life and I don’t even realize it? Nothing will ever compare, no one else will ever measure up, and my heart will know. How could it not?

As I push myself to my feet, Missy’s eyes open.

She frowns as I gather my clothes from the bathroom and start dressing. “Is everything alright? What’s wrong?”

I throw her a fake smile as I wiggle into my leggings. “I’m just getting ready to leave.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She sits up, her frown deepening as I return to the living room with my slippers in hand. I perch on the edge of the couch and slip the fuzzy pink monstrosities onto my feet. Then, I shrug my jacket on and zip it up, avoiding eye contact.

If I look at her, those blue eyes will pull me in again, and I can’t let that happen.

But the longer I don’t look at her, the more obvious my upset becomes. The silence screams everything I can’t voice. After a few agonizing moments, Missy stands, and I squeeze my eyes shut as she approaches. She’s still naked and too beautiful to be real. Her hand gently cups my chin and tilts my face toward her.

“Stay.”

My eyes snap open, and I meet Missy’s stare. That one word sends tingles racing throughout my abdomen.

“Stay?” I mutter. “What do you mean, stay ?”

Her thumb caresses the line of my jaw. A nervous smile trembles on her lips. “I know we’ve only just met. I know this is sudden, but think about it. You could stay here for a whole human year, with me. You could do something that makes you happy. You’re good with toys. You’re good with deliveries. Help me organize the elves and prepare for next Christmas, and I promise to arrange for your other job to be waiting for you when we return to Earth, if you want to go back.”

It takes my brain a long moment to comprehend what she’s saying, and by the time she stops talking, I’ve officially started panicking.

I brush her hand from my face and scramble off the couch, putting some space between us. I pace between the living room and kitchen instead, shaking my head to clear it. “You can’t offer me something like this, Missy.”

She steps forward but thankfully keeps her distance. “Why not?”

“It’s not a good idea,” I say forcefully, glancing her way. I immediately regret it, because she’s not hiding even an ounce of her feelings. Her brow is bunched and her eyes are slanted in sadness. I just have to rip off the Band-Aid. Indulging this fantasy won’t help either of us. I can’t stay here. I can’t . Inhaling deeply, I brace myself for what I need to say. “This whole night has been one bad idea after another, and this might be the worst idea of all.”

Missy blinks a few times, her lips flattening in a hard line. “How could you say that?”

“I’m not good enough for you,” I shout.

“What are you talking about?” she demands, her own voice rising. “You were there tonight. You felt it. We’re good together.”

I laugh bitterly. “I’m on the naughty list, Santa . Not only am I human, which means I already don’t belong here, in the jolliest place in the universe, but I’m a bad human. I’m a loser. I work on Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake.”

“So do I,” she argues.

I speak over her, needing her to hear me, needing her to understand . “I smash people’s prized possessions when they piss me off,” I remind her. “I make sad women cry in fraternity bathrooms. I’m no good, and you know that. You’re Santa. You don’t belong with someone like me.”

Missy’s eyes glaze over as her hands fall limp at her sides.

After a long minute, she scoffs and turns on her heel, disappearing into the bathroom before re-emerging with her father's coat. She pulls it on and draws the sides closed, shielding herself. I hurt her, and I hate that I hurt her. I hate that our fairytale is turning into a grim tragedy right before my eyes.

I sigh. “Missy…”

“What I know, ” she cuts me off with razor-sharp authority, “is that getting on the naughty list has nothing to do with morality, Nicole. You aren’t on the naughty list because you’re a bad person. You’re there because you’re too damn scared to open up to anyone, so you just push them away instead. But what’s worse is that you push yourself away. You are a stranger to your own heart. How can anyone give you a gift that means something when you don’t know what you want? You don’t let anyone see who you are, yourself included.”

My lips flap as I search for a response. “You’re wrong. I–”

Missy closes in on me, her eyes watery and sparkling with anger. “What do you want, then? Do you want me, or do you not? Forget that I’m Santa. Forget everything that you believe is standing between us and just tell me the truth. From your heart.”

Maybe I should know the answer. Maybe she’s right, and I don’t know myself at all. Maybe I became someone else entirely in the pursuit of a relationship that was never meant to be.

But that also means I have no business starting something new.

“I don’t think I know what the truth is,” I tell her.

She nods, sensing my honesty. Her voice softens as she asks, “What was last night to you? Was it real? When you wake up in your mother’s house, will you believe me to be a dream?”

A small glimmer of hope ignites, warming my chest. Those questions make me think she might actually let me remember all this, and if that’s true…

I shake my head, reaching forward to brush a thumb over her rosy cheek. “My dreams are never this sweet.”

She closes her eyes, briefly savoring my touch.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Missy whispers. She pulls a small, star-like instrument out of her father’s coat and raises it between us. I don’t remember that being in the coat when I was wearing it earlier. The center of the star starts glowing, illuminating the tears in Missy’s eyes. “Be a good girl, Nicole. Let the love in, and when you’re finally full again, give it to someone else.”

“What is that thing? What are you doing?” I demand tremulously. She can’t be making me forget. She can’t. Not after giving me hope that she wouldn’t.

I reach for the instrument.

Missy’s tears brim over as she whispers, “Goodbye, Nicole.” And a burst of blinding white-blue light fills my eyes.