Page 3 of Daddy Christmas

"Don’t worry about it," I said quickly. The words came out before I could think them through. "Just . . . consider it a gift."

She froze, eyebrows arching. "Are you serious?" Her tone was more surprised than skeptical, but still, it made heat crawl up the back of my neck.

"Yeah," I said, brushing nonexistent dust off the display. "Everyone should have their favorite book for the holidays."

For a second, she just stared at me. Then her face softened, her lips curving into a smile that could’ve melted snow. "That’s. . ." She shook her head slightly, like she couldn’t believe it. "That’s incredibly kind of you. Thank you."

"Sure," I replied, heart thudding a little harder now. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you so much," she said, her voice bright and warm. She held the book close, like it was something precious, then tilted her head as if a thought had just occurred to her. Her smile shifted, more playful now, like she was in on a secret I didn’t know about.

"You know," she started, leaning in slightly, her tone dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "I should return the favor."

"Favor?" I echoed, blinking at her.

"Yeah," she said, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the mall's main walkway, then back at me. "I actually work over at Santa’s Grotto." She pointed discreetly through the window, her painted red nails catching the soft glow of the fairy lights strung around the shop.

"You're an elf?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. I instantly felt dumb for stating the obvious, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her grin widened.

"One of the best," she said, straightening with mock pride, like she’d just won some kind of award. "And I happen to have a little pull with the big guy himself."

"Santa?" I asked flatly, still trying to catch up. My gaze flicked to the elaborate setup across the mall—the glittering archway, the faux snow, kids practically vibrating with excitement as they waited their turn. It looked . . . overwhelming.

"Yep," she said, popping the “p” like she was enjoying herself. "Would you like to meet him? I can arrange a special visit for you. No lines, no screaming toddlers. Just you and Santa."

"Me?" My voice came out softer than I intended, almost unsure. I must’ve looked ridiculous, standing there behind the counter, clutching my hands together like I didn’t know what to do with them. "Meet Santa?"

"Why not?" she asked, her expression open and easy, like this was the most normal suggestion in the world. "He loves meeting new people. And trust me"—she leaned in again, her voice dropping to a stage whisper—"it’s magical. Even for adults."

Her words hung in the air between us, light but with a weight I couldn’t quite name. For a moment, it felt like she was offering me more than just a trip to some over-decorated photo op. Like she saw something in me that I hadn’t even noticed myself.

The corners of her mouth tugged up again, a knowing look in her eyes. "So? What do you think?"

I shifted on my feet, the weight of her offer sinking in. My palms were suddenly sweaty, and I had to clasp them together to keep from fidgeting. “I . . . I’ve never actually been to a Santa’s Grotto before,” I admitted. The words felt small, like they barely made it past my lips.

She tilted her head, her auburn waves catching the light like fire. Her expression softened, but not in that pitying way people sometimes looked at me when they found out too much. It was different—gentler, warmer. “Then it’s time you did,” she said,her voice soft but firm, like this wasn’t up for debate. “Everyone deserves a bit of holiday magic.”

Holiday magic. The phrase sat heavy in my chest, tangled with memories I didn’t want to touch. But there was something in her tone, in the way she looked at me, that made it hard to say no. Like maybe she really believed it.

“What do you say?” she asked, her smile nudging me forward, coaxing me toward something I couldn’t quite put a name to.

I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek. Then I nodded. “I’d love to.” My voice cracked just a little on the last word, but she didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she pretended not to. Either way, her grin widened like I’d just made her day.

"Wonderful!" She practically bounced as she reached into her purse, rummaging through what sounded like a collection of jingling trinkets. A second later, she pulled out a small card. It was heavier than I expected when she handed it to me, the gold snowflakes embossed so perfectly they almost looked real. Tiny bells along the edges chimed softly with every movement, their sound impossibly delicate.

"Show this at the entrance tomorrow evening," she explained, tapping the card lightly with one manicured nail. "Around closing time. We’ll set up a special visit just for you.” She winked, and for a moment, I wondered if she could see right through me—if she knew how badly I wanted to say yes even before I nodded.

"By the way," she added, holding out her hand, "I’m Ella."

"I'm Gemma," I said, sliding the card carefully into my pocket before shaking her hand. Her grip was warm, steady, the kind that made you feel anchored even if you weren’t. “Thank you, Ella. This . . . this means a lot.”

Her eyes softened again, her smile tilting into something more knowing, more intimate. “Trust me,” she said quietly, “it’ll beworth it.” Then, with a quick wave and a jingle of those tiny bells, she turned and headed for the door.

I stayed rooted behind the counter, my fingers brushing over the outline of the card in my pocket. It felt heavier now, like it carried more than just an invitation. Like it carried promises I wasn’t sure I deserved.

Chapter 2

The next day passedin no time. The work wasn’t so bad when I had something to look froward to. Obviously, I kept the ornate card that Ella had given me in my pocket, and I kept rubbing it to make sure that it was real, and that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

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