Page 49 of Texting My Secret Santa

Soon, I return to my seat with a big smile. Mom wipes a tear from her eye. She makes a heart symbol with her hands and clasps her hands to her chest. For the first time I can remember, the Christmas spirit flows through me.

After I see all the kids, I circulate the drive. The table is overflowing with gifts. I go into the next room and carry another table in. My elf gets more footage of this.

I try not to let my gaze slide to her stockings-clad legs, but it isn’t easy. The green lace presses against her thickness, highlighting how juicy and irresistible her curvy form is. The shirt is baggy but still shows a faint outline of her chest.

The green hat, complete with elf ears, tops it off, and she doesn’t have to fake the excited redness on her face.

Once I’ve set the table down, I walk over to her. “Think it’s going well?” I ask.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says. “That was amazing, the whole thing. Have you ever worked with kids before?”

I chuckle. “Before today, I don’t think I’ve talked to a kid since I was one.”

“You’re a natural. That was pretty impressive. Either you’re the best actor in the world, orsomebodyis getting into the spirit.”

“Did you see Mom after the push-up contest?” I say, the smile stubbornly refusing to leave my face, not that I’m fighting it very hard. “She was crying. Happy tears, I hope.”

Holly puts her hand on my arm. “They were,” she assures me.

Her touch makes me want to sweep my arms around her. Suddenly, it annoys me not being able to hug and kiss her. It would make this moment so much more wholesome if I could embrace my Snowflake.

She quickly removes her hand. I must’ve been staring at her with all the heat blazing through me.

Mom approaches us, looking at Holly, then at me. “Would you two like to join me for gingerbread lattes at my house? I’ve bought a special machine that makes the most wonderful mixtures.”

Usually, if she asked this, I’m sure there’d be something holding me back. I’d let all the childhood stuff rein me in, replay it in my head, and torture myself with it.

Instead, with all the Christmas atmosphere brimming inside, I can smile. “Sure, Mom.”

Holly looks at me proudly.

When Holly excuses herself and goes to the bathroom, Mom gives me a look over the top of her cup. “Would you like to talk about it, son? We don’t have to.”

“Talk about what?” When she turns away and that sad look comes over her, I feel like an ass. “I don’t mean to snap, Mom. I know I’ve been distant. I’ve barely sent you so much as a birthday or Christmas card since I left.”

“You don’t have to send me anything,” she murmurs.

“No, you’re wrong,” I say, surprising her, surprising myself. “We had it tough when I was a kid, but I’m not a little boy anymore. You’re doing your best to rebuild this. I want to do the same.”

“You and Holly,” Mom murmurs. “Am I seeing things, or do you genuinely care about that girl?”

“You’re not seeing things,” I admit.

“She’s Dan’s sister.”

I laugh without a shred of good cheer. “I know. It’s complicated. Or it’s simple. I’m simply an asshole. I didn’t plan on it happening.”

Holly walks into the room. Mom sets her cup down.

“What are you talking about?” Holly asks.

“Us,” I say. “Mom guessed.”

“Isaw,” Mom says.

“Oh, jeez.” Holly sits down, laying her head in her hands. “Was it that obvious?”

“I’ve wanted Asher to find somebody for a long time. I didn’t think it would happen, but when I saw you together at the toy drive, I suspected something might be going on. You look very natural together, like a good fit. It doesn’t seem forced or difficult.”

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