Hearing him say my name sends every kind of bad idea through my head. I can’t relish in the flirtation, though, because how does he know my name?
“Your friends are loud,” he says, likely seeing the panic on my face by the use of my name. “And how could I not pay attention to the prettiest woman to walk into this bar all night?”
I’d like to swoon, but instead, I deflect. “What will Mrs. Claus think?”
“There’s no Mrs. Claus,” he says before sipping his drink.
Should I ask for Santa’s real name? No. This is just silly bar banter. As I swirl my drink, the festive spirit of the holidays mingles with a pleasant buzz. He keeps staring at me like I’m the only person in this crowded bar. It feels so good to be looked at in that way.
“If you’d be interested in more than just a photo, how about my number?” he asks, low so only I can hear.
Living in the moment, I slide my phone along the bar to him. "Make sure to report back on the North Pole’s foot rub protocol."
He laughs in the most Santa way while tapping away at my phone.
“Back to work.” He winks, then places a soft kiss on my cheek before sliding a candy cane toward me.
The cute gestures make me smile like a fucking schoolgirl, filling me with excitement for the unexpected turn the night has taken. My thoughts are solely focused on the mystery andintrigue of Santa, no longer reciting my never-ending checklists leading up to Christmas to make it the most magical time of year for my son. Maybe I’ll get my Christmas wish this year?
“So, what’s Santa’s story?” Rachel asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, still reeling from that exchange.
“If I were you, all I would want for Christmas is that man and his hands all over me.” Sarah winks.
Blushing, I chuckle. “Oh, please. Santa isn’t on my Christmas list.” After I say it, it feels like a lie.
I unlock my phone and see that he saved his contact as Santa. I huff a laugh, seeing he texted himself,This is your naughty elf Emily. Officially succumbing to the bit of Christmas magic in the air, I consider Sarah’s suggestion and addSanta’s hands all over meto my Christmas wish list.
Chapter 3: Jingle Bells & Santa Sells
Sunday, December 15th
When I took the reins of High Five at the end of the summer, my vision for the dive bar in Lake Geneva was clear: a haven for the young at heart and adventurous. Little did I know I’d soon be decking the halls and myself as Santa, a twist in my tale spun by my Gen Z social media team. At thirty-eight, slipping into the red suit was as unexpected as finding a snowball in July. But Isleighedmy doubts and got into the ho-ho-holiday spirit, aiming to spread cheer for our vibrant patrons.
Last night’s numbers were nothing to sneeze at. It was our highest sales night since I took over the bar. Sipping my coffee, I’m happy I hung up my pride and yielded to the social media agency’s insistence, recognizing that the twenty-somethings are an important demographic.
The morning after my unexpected transformation into Santa, I received an email with the subject line:Santa Zaddy!!!In my past life, using such a term would have resulted in a swift meeting with HR. But here, it’s a badge of honor, albeit a confusing one. This isn’t just about spirited banter; it’s about business. The email was a blend of excitement and hilarity,typical of the Gen Z communication style. They pitched yet another wild idea: plastering my photo with Emily all over social media, aiming for an impromptu event featuring “sexy photos with Santa.”
Unbelievable. Looking at the mock-ups of the various social media posts the team wants to use, I take a deep breath. That photo. It’s hot, and it captured an unexpected moment between us. It’s not for the whole world to see. There’s no way that photo is hitting social media. Emily would never consent to that, and I would never use such an intimate photo to drive drink sales.
And I’m certainly not playing Santa again for a night of sultry photo ops. Good for business or not. It’s not Scrooge behavior. I barely built up the nerve to don the Santa suit for one night. Even in the world of chasing viral content, creative freedom has its limits.
As I contemplate the surreal scenario of Santa escapades and Gen Z antics, a heavier unease gnaws at me. Is this my midlife crisis? The thought seems ludicrous, yet I can’t shake it off.
But, then again, life took an unexpected turn after the breakup with my long-term girlfriend. We’d been together for over a decade. Our relationship, while stable, had left me isolated and unfulfilled. Wanting to get away and start fresh, I left Chicago and my big corporate job and moved to this scenic tourist town. Lake Geneva’s quietness is definitely different from Chicago’s noise.
High Five is a relic, a piece of history in a town shifting toward modernity. I’ve embraced its raw, unpolished charm, which is so different from my former life.
And then there’s Emily. On one of my first days as a Lake Geneva resident, she caught my eye and then kept catching it. Her warm aura always radiates through her big, brown eyes. At the supermarket a couple of weeks ago, I almost introduced myself but was too shy. I’d been unsure if I was ready to asksomeone out on a date. The Santa stunt, as ridiculous as it was, had finally broken the ice and my doubts.
While curious about her the last couple of months, I’ve learned that this woman—outside of being painfully good-looking—embodies community spirit and “Mom of the Year.” Her long, brown hair is rarely down. Without fail, when we cross paths, she’s in an on-the-go type look. It was wonderful to see Emily dressed up last night at the bar—even if it was a silly Christmas sweater. With her hair down and makeup on, she was absolutely breathtaking.
I’ve heard a few things about her since I moved to town. Her past is wrapped in rumors about her Scrooge of an ex. I’d never take the small-town chatter seriously. Growing up with a single mother, I understand the weight of her role.
I feel drawn to Emily like a magnet to the North Pole. This Christmas, however, I want to do more than just admire her. I want to unwrap, play, and touch, and the whimsy of Santa’s magic could make all of that possible.
One thing is for sure: My potential midlife crisis is taking me on a journey that I hadn’t anticipated, and Emily could be at the heart of it all. Either way, I’d love the chance to make Christmas a little more special for her this year.