Page 124 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

He grins at her and then at us. “Joe’s not the only one who can take one for the team.”

Cynthia leans in and kisses him. “I’m the one who’s going to have to tell off another five thousand women in your DMs.”

“I’m not going to pretend that doesn’t make me hot.”

“Our thanks to all three of you,” I tell Jeremy with a grin, and he reaches out for a fist bump.

I give it to him, of course, and then we all get to work, making a big batch of videos for social media. We keep it about thestolen Santas and the sweetgum ornament without making any accusations that could bury us in deeper trouble. Then we spend the rest of the evening watching the views grow.

Slowly.Veryslowly.

“That’s it,” Jeremy says, slapping his phone onto the parlor table. “I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame. I say we get drunk.”

“And I say we redecorate first,” I say.

Anabelle tips her head in my direction as I grab the bag I brought in earlier. “We’re gonna get your ornaments back, sweetheart, but in the meantime, I figured we didn’t need to keep looking at a couple of bare trees.

Her lips part a second before she says, “You really bought me ornaments, Ryan?”

“I’m learning to speak your love language,” I say through a grin.

“Youaremy love language.” She kisses me quickly and then takes the bag from me. Each time she pulls something out, she exclaims over it as if it’s the best thing she’s ever seen and not a crappy discount-store find.

She’s adorable, even if the ornaments aren’t, and we soon join her in decorating, finding the best places for the ugly ornaments.

We’ve been at it for a few minutes when we hear the front door open. We exchange looks, and I quickly survey the room for potential weapons on the off chance it’s someone who isn’t supposed to be here. But then Joe shuffles into view wearing my original Santa suit. The beard is light pink, and as he gets closer, we get a whiff of curdled milk.

“What happened to you?” Anabelle cries, getting up and going to him.

“Don’t touch me,” he says. “I’m disgusting. A girl threw her strawberry yogurt smoothie on me after I told her it wasunrealistic to expect a real, live unicorn for Christmas. Her father told her to apologize…to him, for wasting the drink.”

I get to my feet and join Anabelle, clapping Joe on the back. “Thank you, man. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. “It’s from the lady with the bubble gum fixation.”

“Thanks,” I say, my heart beating a little faster as I take it. Those texts Ada sent me have been added to my memory loop of other people telling me I was a disappointment.

“I want you to know I didn’t fill in for you just because you did me a big favor,” Joe says seriously. “I did it because I’m probably the best friend anyone’s ever had.”

I grin at him. “You are.” Emotion fills me up until I feel like a balloon about to burst as I turn and look at each of them, ending with my Anabelle. “You all are.”

“Is it time to get drunk yet?” Jeremy asks.

“Yes, it is,” I declare.

We don’t actually get drunk, but we make Christmas-themed cocktails and light a fire in the hearth and talk and laugh and play Go Fish, because of course Anabelle remembers all the rules. Through it all, I can feel Grandma Edith looking down on us. I hope like hell she approves.

There’s a nagging thought in the back of my mind, a feeling of unfinished business, but tonight is just for Anabelle and our friends—as it should be. And when Anabelle yawns so hard her jaw cracks, I usher her upstairs.

I want to make love to her. I want to make love to her every single minute of every single day. She clearly needs sleep, though, so I gather her in my arms and wonder at the miracle I’ve been given. She knows everything about me, and she still loves me.

When she shifts and rolls onto her stomach, I let myself take out Ada’s card. Maybe she wanted me to open it on Christmas,but that’s the kind of rule I still can’t be bothered to follow. I open it and read:

To Hot Santa (yes, I have ears):

Sorry for misjudging you, kid. We all make mistakes, me more than anyone. Merry Christmas. I’ll be in touch.

In the morning, we wake up to another miracle.

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