Only Santas in the Building (Under the Mistletoe collection)

Epilogue

Christmas Day

A week later, we’re sitting on my sofa, gazing at my tree. It’s decorated with all twelve of Theo’s ornaments. In addition, my Funko Pop figures hang by tiny harnesses made of knotted red nylon cord. There’s Storm, Loki, and Princess Leia, among others. And of course, Starsong.

The tree looks festive and silly and represents the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received.

We’re eating lemon bars off a plate on my coffee table. It’s the third time I’ve baked them in the past week. I’m worried Theo’s going to get sick of them, but he swears that will never happen.

If it does, I’ll just find something new to bake for him.

We’re sharing a quiet moment before we go to his mother’s house in New Jersey, where I’m going to meet his mom along with his two sisters and their families. Last night I brought him to my aunt’s big Christmas Eve party in Queens, and he met my entire extended family. Theo was, as usual, charming and helpful, instantly ingratiating himself with my parents by carrying all the gifts and food into the house in one trip.

I was worried it would be awkward to see my uncle, but then he presented me and all my cousins with checks from the sale of the house. Mine was twice as much as everyone else’s, a thank-you, he said, for taking such good care of Grandma during her final years. It was completely unexpected, and didn’t quite make up for his shady behavior a few months ago, but having Theo at my side grounded me and reminded me to look toward the future instead of the past.

At the end of the night, my sister, April, pulled me aside to whisper, “I was wrong! He’s definitely a good choice.”

It was nice, but I didn’t need to hear it. I already knew.

“When do you start working again?” he asks me now. I swallow a sugary-tart bite of lemon bar and wash it down with tea.

“I’ll receive my next project at the beginning of January,” I tell him. “And after that ... I think I might raise my rates and take on fewer gigs.”

A grin threatens to split his face in half. “Seriously?”

“Whoa, there. Why do you look so excited?”

“It’s just—” He shakes his head and glances away. “I didn’t want to say anything, but ... as a fellow freelance workaholic, I worry about you burning out. So I’m glad to hear that you plan to lessen your workload. That’s all. I’ll support whatever you choose to do, but I care about you, Evie. More than care. I’m falling for you. And ... Shit. I’m going to stop talking now.”

He stuffs a lemon bar into his mouth, but that doesn’t deter me from pulling his face down to mine and pressing a kiss onto his closed lips. His earnest confession makes it easy for me to admit my own feelings.

“I’m falling for you too.” My voice is low, and his gaze doesn’t leave mine as he finishes chewing.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” His eyes are soft as he brushes my hair behind one ear.

I smile. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

The rich, delighted sound of his laugh warms me to the tips of my toes, and suddenly, I feel right at home.