My Secret Santa Clayton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

Epilogue

CLAY

It felt like months had slipped by…but Christmas wasn’t over yet.

I pushed the door open to Millie's Diner and a bell jingled above. The room greeted me with glows of red and green, flickering lights strung up on every window and corner. The smell of cinnamon mingled with pine hit me hard, reminding me of a simple, steadfast truth.

Despite everything, the holiday spirit survived in Silver Ridge.

Grace's hand found mine, and I looked down at her. She gave me a little squeeze, and those eyes of hers danced with secrets.

“Got your gift ready?” I asked.

“It’s been ready for weeks,” she replied, a grin tugging at her lips.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Weeks ago, Grace had still hated me. I’d still thought she betrayed me.

A hell of a lot had changed since then.

Across the room, Mariah sat with her husband Colt. Their baby lay quiet in the carrier, swaddled in blankets. Mariah caught my eye and smiled, a deep sense of satisfaction behind her weary gaze.

“Sleeping through the party, huh?” I called out to her.

“Best gift she could give us,” Mariah answered, her voice ripe with gratitude.

Kat and Gabe stood by the counter with my dad, their conversation easy and light. Dad laughed at something Gabe said, and for a moment, I saw the man he used to be before the drink took hold.

A week dry, and counting.

“Good to see him smiling again,” I said.

“Let's keep it that way,” Grace reinforced, her tone firm but hopeful.

I watched Betty Thompson weave through the crowd, her hands expertly balancing a tray laden with steaming mugs. She offered hot chocolate and cider with a smile that never dimmed, even as she navigated the throng of townsfolk in high spirits. When her gaze met mine, she gave a quick wink and moved on, her silent message clear: Knew it.

The room hushed when the sharp sound of glass on glass cut through the hum of conversation. Betty stood at the front, her smile bright enough to rival the string lights above.

“Alright, folks, time for the big moment!” she called out, her voice steady and strong. “Secret Santa time!”

A ripple of excitement passed through the diner as everyone's attention fixed on Betty. Grace nudged me with her elbow, a hint of playfulness in her eyes. “You nervous about your gift?”

I shot back a look that was all mock severity. “Should I be?”

“Maybe,” she laughed.

People around us started to pass presents back and forth, the sound of tearing paper and joyful exclamations filling the diner. I reached into my coat pocket, feeling the familiar edges of the small wrapped frame. Days of carrying it had left the paper crinkled, yet that didn't seem to matter.

The real value lay inside, not in the presentation.

“Here,” I said, handing it over to Grace.

She feigned surprise, putting her hand on her chest with a dramatic gasp. “What? You were my Secret Santa?”

I snorted. “Cut it out. You know damn well I was yours…and you were mine.”

Her eyes brightened as she took the gift. She peeled back the tape and unfolded the paper with care. As the frame emerged, her fingers traced its border. She caught sight of the photo, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Her eyes glistened.

“Wow,” she whispered.

I stared at the photograph in Grace's hands, a snapshot of our past selves. We stood in front of the Silver Ridge sign, my arm around her, both of us smiling without any shadow of the future on our faces. It had been years since I'd seen that carefree look in her eyes, the one she used to wear before life got complicated.

“Clay...” Grace said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers traced the edge of the frame, lingering on the frozen image of our youth.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to maintain eye contact. “Thought you'd like it,” I said. A twinge of nervousness ran through me as I waited for her reaction, but I managed to keep my voice steady. “I um…I kept it all these years. Even had it with me overseas.”

“It's...it's perfect.” She held the frame close, her brown eyes never leaving the photograph. “A reminder of where we came from.”

“And where we're headed,” I added, hoping she understood the weight behind those words, aware of the history we shared and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

Grace's smile broke through as she dabbed at her eyes. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Hey, no tears,” I said, trying to keep the mood light. “It's Christmas, remember?”

She nodded and offered a small, oddly-shaped package in return. Her grin was broad, confident. She handed it over with a flourish, as though presenting me with a grand prize.

I took the package, weighing it in my hand. It had heft—a paperweight, maybe? The paper crinkled under my fingers as I tore it away to reveal what she'd given me.

No fucking way.

It was…a lump of coal.

I lifted my gaze to Grace, who watched me with an expectant glint in her eyes. I chuckled and shook my head. “Seriously?” I asked.

“Hey, it's traditional, isn't it?” she replied, her sharp wit evident in her tone. “And besides…you can make a diamond out of coal, right?”

“Sure,” I replied. “If you've got a few million years to spare.”

A grin tugged at my lips as I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips. Her presence was a comfort, the kind you didn't know you needed until it was right there beside you.

“Is that your way of proposing?” I asked.

The corner of her mouth lifted into a half-smile, the playful light in her eyes brightening the dimmed space around us. “Maybe,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. Her fingers traced along the contours of the coal, still cradled in my open hand. “Or maybe it’s just a reminder that we’ve still got some work to do.”

I let out a laugh, not just at the absurdity of the gift, but at the truth behind her words. I leaned down, the warmth of her presence drawing me closer, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“We'll see about that,” I said.

THE END