Page 101 of Christmas in Paradise

Seb still has stuff to learn about being a dad, and there are moments where I sense how nervous he is about the whole idea of parenthood. But they pass.

I watch him sink more comfortably into the role we both know he’s auditioning for. He is aware of Charly whenever she’s with us, making sure to hold her hand, talk and listen to her, even carrying her when she’s tired. It all seems to come naturally to him now that he’s not afraid of it.

The one thing that doesn’t come naturally is telling Charly no.

But we can work on that.

Our morning at the Christmas Market passes quickly, ending at the outbuilding where Santa’s workshop and reindeer are. Nick Johnson is the spitting image of Santa with his white beard and round stomach, and Charly is immediately charmed. When she climbs onto his lap, they have a long conversation about whether she’s been good (she has) and then what she wants him to bring her on Christmas.

She answers without the slightest pause and with perfect annunciation. “Uncle Rad.”

Nick nods and says, “Uncle Rad.” Then he looks to me for clarification.

“From Bluey,” I explain.

His eyes widen with understanding. “You want a Bluey toy?”

Charly brushes her fingers over his beard and shakes her head. “No. Just Uncle Rad. And Sebby needs a moose hat.”

“Like yours?” Nick pats her beanie.

Charly nods and the little lights hanging from the hat sway back and forth.

“And what about your mom? What does she want Santa to bring her?” Nick looks at me and winks.

Charly tips her head to the side and considers. “Maybe she wants a puppy.”

“A puppy. I’ll see what I can do.” Nick winks at me, and suddenly he’stooconvincing as Santa Claus.

“I don’t want a puppy,” I scramble to say. I’m legitimately worried I might find sooty, Santa-sized footprints near the fireplace and a puppy in my stocking on Christmas morning.

Seb leans close and whispers, “Not even Uncle Rad?”

I slide my hand into his. “Only if you come with her.”

He squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything else, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as I am.

Carson hasn’t said anything about hiring me full time, other than he’d like to, if Pizzazz has enough business. And that’s a big if. There has to be enough demand for Pizzazz in the areas surrounding Paradise for Carson to hire me. Because there’s not enough going on in town.

That could change, though. The wedding aired last night on Georgia’s show, and as more people see the episode, I’m sure Carson will get new customers booking him and the Old Barn as a wedding and event venue. And we’ve got Paradise Pizzazz plastered everywhere possible, so people know Carson’s company is the one behind Yulefest.

In fact, Paradise Pizzazz is sponsoring the Jingle Ball happening tonight, which means I have to cut our time short at the Christmas Market. The Old Barn would have been the perfect place for the Jingle Ball, but since the Christmas Market is already set up here and will go through every Saturday and Sunday until Christmas, it didn’t make sense to make vendors take down their stalls so the ball could be here.

Instead, it will be in the high school gym, since that’s the biggest venue in town. We’re expecting a big turnout, so the gym is the right size, even if that’s exactly what makes it difficult to decorate. And it smells like sweat and old tennis shoes—but that’s a separate issue.

I’ve got a crew putting up a false ceiling to make the space less cavernous. But now I’ve got to head over and supervise the rest of the decorating. Evie offered to keep Charly for me, but Seb insisted he could do it.

So, I’m letting him. He’s proven he’s good with her—mostly—if there’s not ebelskiver involved.

Today, he’s planning to take her sledding, then to make gingerbread houses for the competition that starts Monday. The first sounds fun. The second sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But I love his optimism.

Once Charly climbs off Santa’s lap, we walk to the parking lot. We transfer Charly’s car seat and bag of snow clothes to his truck, and then he buckles Charly into it. All by himself. She waves goodbye to me, and I blow her kisses. But Seb gets the real thing.

“All her stuff is in her bag. She’ll need a nap after sledding, and she’ll be hungry…” I go down my mental checklist, trying to think of every contingency Seb should be prepared for.

“Hope.” He stops me with a peck on the lips. “We’ll be fine. I know what to do. I’ll call Mom if I don’t.” He kisses me again. “Go do what you’ve got to do.”

I exhale and smile. “I wish I could go sledding with you.”

---