Page 45 of Falling for Santa

But as they drew closer, movement in the front window caught her eye. Scott stood in what appeared to be his living room, but he wasn't alone. A woman stood close to him—tall, elegant, with carefully styled dark hair. They were deep in conversation, and even through the window, Megan could see the easy intimacy between them.

The woman laughed at something Scott said, reaching out to touch his arm. She leaned in slightly, her body language unmistakable, and Megan's heart plummeted to her feet.

"Mama?" Ruby tugged at her sleeve. "Can we go in now?"

Megan's throat felt tight, her earlier resolve crumbling like sand through her fingers. "I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart. Scott has company."

Through the window, the woman moved even closer to Scott, and Megan forced herself to look away. How foolish she'd been, imagining that their connection was something special, something exclusive. Of course Scott would have other people in his life. Other possibilities.

"But the brownies," Ruby protested, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "And my drawing..."

Megan's chest ached at her daughter's disappointment. "We'll leave them on the porch," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It'll be a nice surprise for him to find later."

She set the box down carefully, tucking Ruby's drawing and the letter beneath it. Part of her wanted to snatch the letter back, to burn it before Scott could read her vulnerable confessions. But her hands were shaking too much to try.

"Why can't we stay?" Ruby asked as Megan guided her back down the path. "I wanted to tell Santa Scott about the brownies. And maybe talk to Cupid.”

"Not tonight, baby," Megan said, her voice thick. "Maybe another time."

They were halfway home when Ruby's quiet sniffles turned into proper tears. "But I love Santa Scott," she said, her small voice wavering. "He makes the best hot chocolate, and he tells funny stories, and he lets me pet Cupid..."

Megan stopped walking and knelt in front of her daughter, pulling her close. Ruby's words confirmed her worst fears. She'd allowed her daughter to form an attachment that could only lead to heartbreak.

"I know you do, sweetheart," she whispered, stroking Ruby's curls. "I know."

The walk home felt longer than usual, each step weighted with regret and resignation. Ruby's hand was warm in hers, but Megan's heart felt frozen. She'd been right to consider the job in San Diego. Right to prioritize practicality over emotion.

Sometimes the safest choice was the only choice that made sense.

As they approached their bungalow, Megan cast one last look over her shoulder, though Scott's house was long out of sight. The letter she'd left behind suddenly seemed like a message in a bottle, cast into an ocean that would never bring it back to shore.

Maybe it was better this way. Better to step back now, before Ruby—before both of them—got hurt even more.

Chapter Eighteen

Scott stepped onto his front porch, the crisp New Year's Eve morning air nipping at his face. The sun had barely crested the horizon, painting the sky in delicate strokes of pink and gold. He'd always been an early riser, but today felt different. Today was charged with possibility and an undercurrent of anticipation for the evening ahead.

His gaze landed on something unexpected. A small tin box sat near his front door, with what looked like papers tucked beneath it. Curious, he crouched down to investigate. The familiar scent of chocolate wafted up as he lifted the box, and underneath, he found a folded letter and a child's drawing, its bright colors stark against the weathered wood of his porch.

His heart quickened as he recognized Megan's neat handwriting on the envelope.

Inside, he set everything on his kitchen table, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and catching the grain of the wood he'd crafted himself. The coffee maker gurgled in the background as he carefully unfolded the letter, smoothing its creases with slightly trembling fingers.

Dear Scott,

I've written this letter a dozen times in my head, but somehow putting the words on paper makes everything feel more real. More frightening, maybe, but also more honest.

These past few months on Palmar Island have changed me in ways I never expected. When I first arrived, I was just looking for a safe harbor. A place where Ruby and I could catch our breath after losing Danny. I didn't expect to find a community. I didn't expect to find you.

Scott's breath caught as he read on, Megan's words painting a picture of their shared moments. She wrote of quiet conversations over coffee, Ruby's delight at Santa's Village and the way he'd made them both feel seen and valued.

You've given Ruby something precious. A sense of magic and wonder that I worried she might have lost after Danny died. When she talks about "Santa Scott," her whole face lights up. You've become such an important part of her world, and that terrifies me almost as much as it warms my heart.

He reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip as he processed her words. The mug was warm against his palms, grounding him as he continued reading.

I've been offered a job in San Diego. It's everything I should want—financial security, a chance to practice law again, a fresh start. But every time I think about accepting it, something holds me back. Something that feels a lot like belonging. A lot like hope.

The truth is, Scott, you've awakened feelings in me that I thought were buried with Danny. When you smile at me across the Santa's Village crowds, or when you take time to listen to Ruby's endless stories about Mr. Bear's adventures, my heart does this thing, this unexpected flutter that reminds me I'm still alive, still capable of feeling something new.

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