Alex held the reindeer up to the light, examining it with the seriousness it deserved. "Looks like he's ready for anything. You take good care of him."
When Maria finally gathered the kids to leave, Sophie hung back. She tugged at Alex's sleeve and whispered something I couldn't hear. I watched Alex blink hard. He pressed his lips together and nodded.
Noel's crutches squeaked as he made his way to Alex. "Walk with me? Well, hobble in my case."
I stayed in the wings. Their voices drifted throughout the theater.
"Stop fidgeting with the beard." Noel's tone was warm. "That's not what makes you Santa."
"Then what does?" Alex's hands dropped. "Those kids... the way they looked at me..."
"They saw Santa. Not the suit." Noel shifted his weight. "They saw someone who listened with his whole heart. That's all they need."
"But I'm not your father. I'm not—"
"Thank God." Noel laughed. "We don't need another Rudolph North. We need exactly who you're becoming."
I watched Alex's shoulders tense, then slowly release. "I don't know how to be that person."
"You already showed us tonight." Noel gestured toward where the kids had been. "When Sophie told you about her mother, were you thinking about technique? About hitting your mark?"
"No." Alex's voice dropped to a whisper. "I just... wanted to help her."
"That's it. The whole secret." Noel leaned on his crutches. "Being Santa isn't about perfection. It's about being present. Seeing each child. Really hearing them."
After Noel left, Alex remained center stage under the work light. Something had shifted in how he held himself. It was the early rumblings of new confidence.
I let my boots sound against the floorboards as I approached. "Come on. Want to show you something."
He followed me to the workshop without argument. The space smelled like it always did—fresh sawdust, furniture polish, and the beeswax I'd used on the restored trim. Home smells.
"What is this?" Alex reached toward the curved piece I'd been restoring, then hesitated, fingers hovering above the wood.
"Part of an old sleigh." I shifted it into better light. "My great-great-grandfather built it after he settled here. Look at these marks."
He leaned in close enough that I could feel his warmth along my shoulder. "They look like stars."
"Craftsman's marks." I guided his hand to the pattern and felt the slight tremor in his fingers. "See how they flow? Great-great-grandfather believed anything made for children needed magic worked into it."
"Magic?" Less skepticism in his voice than I expected.
"He carved these into everything he built for the town's Christmas celebrations. Said they helped carry joy from his hands to whoever received the piece." I kept my hand over his, steadying it. "Like a blessing worked into the grain."
His fingers lingered on a particularly intricate mark.
"More like an intention than a signature," I said. "He'd spend hours on each one."
When Alex finally turned toward me, I saw flecks of gold in his eyes I'd never noticed before. This close, I could count his heartbeats in the pulse at his throat.
"Ben..." Barely a whisper.
I didn't move. Didn't crowd him. Let him decide what he needed.
His hand slid from the sleigh to rest against my chest, palm flat over my heart. It was racing hard enough for him to feel it.
He leaned in and kissed me.
Tentative at first—a question, not a demand. I caught the faint taste of peppermint and the scent of pine from the suit. I wanted to pull him closer, but I remained still, letting him set the pace.
