Page 48 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

He laughed. “Me? I don’t have that kind of talent. I couldn’t even make a tiny train.”

“You sure about that?” I smiled. He seemed animated when I was around.

“Very.”

“Still having trouble sleeping?” I asked.

His cheeks tinted a bright pink. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that last time.”

“It’s no problem at all. I hope your therapist was able to help.”

“On the contrary.” I waited for him to finish the statement, but he didn’t. “What do you say? Do you want this train? If you don’t take it, I’m going to believe you’ve been coming to our store for a different reason altogether.”

“Tell me about the train.”

“Okay.” As he spoke about the new addition to his collection, I took in every detail about him—the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the light in his eyes. The scent that seemed to envelop him reminded me of the foss of Twinkle Glen—fresh water pooling over rocks.

“What do you think now?” he ended, and I drew back.

He frowned. Had he caught me sniffing him?

I reached into my coat and pulled out the wooden train Landon had crafted back in Twinkle Glen in my workshop. It was a small, intricate toy made with love and care. “I’m actually looking for something more like this.” I held it out to him.

Landon took it. He chuckled, examining the train with an expert’s eye. “Are you serious? This looks like someone who knows nothing about trains put it together. I doubt any fine craftsmen would admit to making something so poorly.”

“Someone special gave it to me.” I watched his face for any sign of recognition.

He looked at me, the corners of his mouth curling up, then back at the train. “I see. What happened to them? Did they pass away?”

“No.” The moment hung between us, impregnated with words unsaid and memories unshared. I wanted to tell him everything, take him in my arms and make him remember the love we had shared. But I knew I couldn’t. He would only think me crazy.

“Yes, very special indeed.”

We stood there for a long moment. Landon placed the train back in my hand. “I’m sorry I can’t help you find a similar one, but you’re welcome to come back anytime and browse some more.”

“I will.” I tucked the train back into my coat. “Thank you, Lan.”

Without thinking, I brushed my fingertips against Landon’s cheek in an intimate gesture. I savored the warmth of his skin, the nearness of him, but he jerked away, his eyes wide and questioning.

“What are you doing?” Landon stepped back, a clear edge of discomfort in his voice.

I retracted my hand. “I’m sorry, I…I just…” The words lodged in my throat, heavy with emotions I couldn’t express. There was so much I wanted to say, to explain, but how could I make him understand?

Desperate to connect, to offer him some tangible piece of our past, I reached into my coat and took out the last trump card—the doll I had crafted, a miniature version of Landon, complete with his bright smile and sparkling eyes. “This.” I held it out to him. “This is why I keep coming back.”

Landon took the doll, his expression shifting from confusion to shock as he recognized the likeness. “Why does this look like me? How do you have this?”

I cursed myself for overstepping, for letting my emotions lead me astray. “Please, don’t be afraid,” I said gently, trying to soothe the rising panic in his eyes. “I mean you no harm.”

But it was too late. Landon’s face hardened, the initial shock giving way to a dawning realization and fear. “Did you haveanything to do with my disappearance last Christmas?” he asked.

“No, Landon, I—” But how could I explain without revealing everything, without sounding like I belonged to a psychiatric ward?

“Get out,” Landon said, his voice trembling. “Now.”

I stood there, frozen, as he held the doll in his hands, a symbol of our lost connection. I had hoped it would bring some recognition, some sign of the love we had shared, but it had only scared him further.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. The weight of my sorrow made it difficult to move, but I turned and left the store, the chime of the bell above the door a bitter farewell.

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