Page 21 of Saint Nick
“He’s delivering your Christmas gift,” she said. Sandy ran to the door and opened it, letting the biker wearing a Santa suit and eye patch into her home. “You must be Cyclops,” she said.
“Nope,” the big biker said. “Today, I’m jolly old Saint Nicholas,” he teased. “Merry Christmas, Nick,” he said, handing the squirming puppy over to Nick. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” Before Nick could take the puppy, she peed on Cyclops’s Santa Suit, and he cursed.
“Sorry about that,’ Sandy said.
“It’s a rental,” he grumbled.
“I’ll cover the dry-cleaning costs,” Nick said, taking the puppy from the biker. “You got me a fucking puppy?” he asked Sandy.
“Well, you have been a very good boy, Nick,” she said, giving him a saucy wink.
“That’s my cue to take off,” Cyclops grumbled. “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” he said on his way out the door. Sandy yelled her thanks, and he waved back over his shoulder at her as he hopped into his pickup. Poor Nick stood in the middle of the living room, holding the rambunctious puppy as though he was trying to figure out what to do with it.
“You really got me a puppy?” he asked. Nick looked like he wanted to cry, and Sandy already was.
“Is that okay?” she asked. “I mean, I thought that you and I both deserved some Christmas magic.” She held up her ring asevidence that he had delivered just that for her, and he cradled the puppy against his chest when she finally settled down.
“I’d say that we both got some Christmas magic this year, honey,” he said, crossing the room to pull her into his body.
“Merry Christmas, Sandy,” he whispered. “I love you.” Sandy’s breath caught, her fingers curling against his shirt. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed those words until they left his mouth.
For the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel like a reminder of everything she’d lost.
It felt like the start of something new, and Sandy finally let herself believe that some stories don’t end in hollow spaces. Some stories end right where they’re meant to begin. That’s how it was with her and Nick. They had found their beginning with a story that she didn’t want to write, but was now so happy that she did. He wasn’t just her news story anymore, though—no longer a headline. Nick was her future, and because of him, she’d always believe in the magic of Christmas.
EPILOGUE
The snow had melted months ago, but the house still carried winter’s quiet. The porch smelled like rain and pine, the air damp and fresh from the early spring storm that had swept through overnight. Sandy leaned against the doorframe, watching Kringle try to find the perfect spot to pee on as the sun crawled up over the tree line. Their puppy wasn’t much of a puppy anymore. She was getting so big, but she still loved to wake them before the sun rose to go outside for her morning potty break.
Behind her, she heard the floorboards creak the way they always did when he walked down the hall in the morning. Nick came up behind her, bare feet, flannel pants, hair sticking up in a way that made her heart catch a little every single time. He didn’t say anything at first—just slipped an arm around her waist, pressing a sleepy kiss to the side of her neck.
“Morning,” he murmured against her skin.
She smiled. “You’re up early.” She was usually the early riser and the one who took Kringle out to do her business.
He made a low, tired sound in the back of his throat. “Didn’t want to miss the sunrise today.” The quiet stretched between them, comfortable and familiar now. Not the tense silence of two people holding their breath—but the stillness of home.
It had been three months since Christmas. Three months since she was given the job to do a news article about the reluctant biker playing Santa at a local bar. Three months since he had asked her to be his wife. She still caught herself sometimes, standing in this same doorway, stunned by how much had changed without fanfare or fireworks. No big, cinematic moment. Just two people who stopped running long enough to let something take root.
Nick rested his chin on her shoulder, his body warm against her back. “You’re quiet.”
“Just thinking,” she said softly.
“Well, that’s dangerous,” he teased. “The last time you thought about anything, we ended up down at the Justice of the Peace to get hitched. She elbowed him gently, and he huffed out a quiet laugh, kissing the top of her shoulder this time. Sandy loved their little wedding—just the two of them and Mace and Brandi as their witnesses. It was perfect.
The truth was, she liked this version of him—the one who had let some of the edges soften without losing his strength. The one who fixed the crooked fence in the backyard because he wanted to give Kringle a safe space to run and play. The one who sat through her favorite Christmas movie in February just because it made her smile. He’d become part of the rhythm here. The way the house felt lived because of him just being there with her. The way the kitchen smelled like coffee every morning was because he insisted on making it since hers was always too strong. Theway laughter had crept back into her soul, like it had always belonged there.
She turned to face him, sliding her hands up the front of his shirt. “We made it through a whole winter without killing each other.”
He smirked, “Guess that’s a good sign.”
“Guess it is.” He leaned down, and she met him halfway. The kiss was slow and familiar, the kind that didn’t try to set the world on fire—because it didn’t need to. The world was already warm enough here.
When they broke apart, Nick brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You ever think about the next step?”
Sandy’s heart stuttered—not in panic, but in recognition. She’d thought about it. A lot. About what it meant to build something instead of just holding on to it. The idea of having kids and a puppy running around the house both terrified her and made her giddy all at the same time. She met his gaze. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”
“So, a baby then,” he breathed. She smiled at him and nodded her agreement. Nothing about their relationship had been traditional. Everyone thought that they were rushing things, getting married after knowing each other for only a little over a month, but they didn’t care. She and Nick had found their own rhythm, and it didn’t have to go along with what everyone else thought that they should be doing or how they should be living their lives. That decision was theirs alone, and right now, all she could think about was seeing Nick holding their baby.
