Page 42 of Falling for Santa

“We have, but I don’t know if staying here is practical in the long run.”

Scott froze in place, the drying rack feeling heavier in his grip. He strained to hear more, his chest tightening at the uncertainty in her tone.

Miss Doris’s kind, steady voice followed. “It’s a big decision, dear. Remember, practicality isn’t the only thing that matters. Follow your heart. Just make sure it’s what’s truly best for you and Ruby.”

There was a pause, and Scott imagined Megan sitting there, her hands wrapped around one of Miss Doris’s delicate tea cups, her brows knit with worry. He knew that look. He’d seen it many times in the last few weeks, a quiet conflict brewing beneath her calm exterior.

“Ruby’s happiness is everything to me,” Megan said after a moment. “But I have to think about the future. About what’s stable, what’s secure. To practice law here, I’d have to pass the South Carolina bar exam. That takes time and money.”

“I’m sure we could find a way to make that happen,” Miss Doris said, her voice confident.

“Maybe.” Megan’s tone was more hesitant.

Scott’s chest ached as he processed her words. It wasn’t a definitive decision, but it was clear Megan was weighing her options, leaning toward the logical, practical choice of leaving.

He stepped back instinctively, careful not to make a sound. The idea of interrupting, of facing Megan in that moment, felt impossible. What could he say that wouldn’t complicate things further?

Quietly, Scott set the drying rack against the porch railing, his movements deliberate, almost mechanical.

Miss Doris’s words echoed in his mind:Follow your heart.

Scott wanted to tell Megan that she didn’t have to leave, that what they’d started here—on this island, in the quiet corners of Santa’s Village, and during those fleeting, meaningful moments—could be her fresh start. But as he stood there, the weight of her practicality loomed over him.

He glanced once more toward the window, hearing Megan’s muffled voice continue, though the words were no longer distinct. With a final deep breath, he turned and walked back down the path, his boots crunching softly against the gravel.

The island breeze picked up slightly as Scott made his way to his truck. He looked out at the distant water, its calm surface contradicting the storm brewing in his chest. Megan’s uncertainty felt like a door slowly closing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what he did, her decision might already be made.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Scott started the engine and drove off, his heart heavier than it had been in years.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of sawdust and silence. Scott buried himself in his work, retreating to the familiar rhythmof his workshop. The steady hum of tools, the sharp scent of freshly cut wood, and the feel of rough sandpaper under his hands offered some solace, but not enough to quiet the storm of thoughts in his head.

He had started a small chest for a longtime client to stay busy—but his mind kept circling back to Megan. The words he’d overheard at Miss Doris’s house haunted him.

“It’s a chance for me to rebuild my career. To give Ruby the financially secure future she deserves.”

Scott had stopped by Miss Doris’s to deliver a simple drying rack and ask a favor. Instead, he’d left with a hollow ache in his chest. It wasn’t as though Megan had definitively said she was leaving, but her words made it clear she was leaning that way. And why wouldn’t she? San Diego offered security, a steady paycheck, and the chance to rebuild the life she’d lost. What could Palmar Island offer her in comparison?

Scott shook his head, focusing on the dovetail joint he was working on. He carefully fit two pieces of wood together, testing their alignment before applying the glue. It was a task he’d done countless times, but today, even his hands felt heavy.

By the time the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows across his workbench, he knew he needed to step away. He cleaned his tools with deliberate care, putting everything back in its place before grabbing his phone off the corner of the bench.

It buzzed in his hand just as he picked it up. Kara’s name flashed on the screen. He hesitated briefly before answering.

“Hey, Kara,” he said, keeping his voice even.

“Hey, big brother,” Kara replied, her tone warm but immediately curious. “You sound off. What’s going on?”

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sank onto the stool by the workbench. “It’s nothing. Just busy.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, her laugh soft but knowing. “You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long. Spill it.”

He hesitated. Kara had always been the one to draw things out of him, no matter how much he tried to keep his feelings bottled up. “It’s Megan,” he said. “I think she’s taking the job. In San Diego.”

Kara was silent for a beat. “Oh,” she said, her voice softer now. “And how do you feel about that?”

Scott let out a bitter chuckle, leaning back and staring at the exposed beams of the workshop ceiling. “How do you think? She’s choosing stability, a future for Ruby. I can’t fault her for that. But it feels like whatever this thing between us is—it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

“You don’t know that,” Kara said gently.

---