My mouth dropped open, as I realized he was trying to do something really sweet. I still wasn’texactlysure where he was going with this whole thing, but it had a swoony Christmas movie feel going on, and my heart was swelling bigger with each word he said.
“I don’t know if that means I’m ready to skip the big moments,” he finally continued, “and just be basic all day, but I’m happiest when I am hanging out with you. All day I had this feeling, like I had failed you, and all these terrible thoughts ran through my head. Once I realized we never got married, I thought about how spending today retracing our steps made the best memories ever, even if we didn’t feel that happy while it was happening. I know I’ll always remember this day as Kairosclerosis.”
I hiked both brows, hoping he’d give me the definition of this word.
His eyes swept to the stars on the roof, and then back to my face, joining with mine. “It means the moment when you realize you are happy, and for me, I realized I was happy when I was being basic with you.” Wagging his head to the side, he tacked on, “Sure, I had a few random waves of nausea, and a panic attack that caused me to faint but, in the end, I think that only added to the memory.”
He was giving me a look, I’d never seen from him, but I didn’t have to think twice what it meant. He bit one side of his lip and met my eyes directly with a penetrating stare. A shiver ran down my spine. This look only ever meant one thing. It’s the look that happens on the cusp of a moment that’s about to turn romantic. We were at a crossroads where everything could change, and a flame ignited inside me. It kindled into a fire that roared through me and didn’t stop until it engulfed my heart.
I can’t believe I had missed who was right in front of me all these years. I had been thinking out of tune, and now I was finally on the same wavelength as Nick. I was about to reply when I was interrupted by a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho.”
“Santa!” Nick and I exclaimed, more excited than kids on Christmas morning. Santa was driving past us in a horse-drawn sleigh, and each horse had antlers tied to their heads and whinnied quietly. Nick and I scampered down the steps of the gazebo out to the street, arms flailing like we were trying to win a foot race, screaming, “We have to talk to you!”
Nick ran until he caught up to the sleigh. Santa pulled back on the reins, halting his reindeer. “Santa!” Nick repeated, his breath now coming out in huffs. “There’s been a mistake.”
Santa peered down his wire-rimmed glasses, a smile gracing his lips. “Don’t tell me you want your letters back.”
My bum hip finally allowed me to catch up, and I joined Nick. Before I could ask what Santa meant about the letters, Nick continued, “I’m afraid we made a large donation last night to Toys for Tots, and as much as we think it’s a great cause, I was hoping we had a chance to return some of that donation. We got a little carried away.”
The smile that had budded on Santa’s lips grew into one filled with so much joy as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few slips of paper. “Let’s see my list here,” he said to himself as he appeared to read from the sheets. I know the toys you are referring to, but I don’t recall them being your donation. I distinctly remember I took care of that.”
I started to argue, wanting to explain what the lady at the hardware store had said, but Santa gave us a wink. This wasn’t just any wink. It appeared to have a twinkle spark at the corner of his eye, making his whole face light up like a glistening magical mirage. Before we could speak, he reached down and handed Nick the papers.
“These are your letters to me. Normally, I keep them for insurance purpose, so people can’t complain when I bring them exactly what they asked for, but in this case, I think these will help you get what you need better than I can.” His gaze acknowledged us one more time, before he pulled back on his reins, chuckled, and called out, “Merry Christmas, Nick and Charlotte!” and he drove off.
“That was . . . strange.” I eyed Santa as his sleigh moved away so fast it appeared to be floating, and disappeared down the street. I hadn’t the faintest clue why he thought this letter had belonged to me. I hadn’t written a letter to Santa since I was nine years old. I started to turn on my heel to head back to the lodge, ready to call the credit card companies to see what I was on the hook for, when Nick looked up from the letter, his eyes wide. “You need to read this.”
An immediate sense of dread filled my chest. “What’s going on now?”
“Get your note out again.” He flashed the paper at me, and I could see the bottom was torn off.
I dug back into his pocket, grabbed the sheet and held the two together.It was a perfect match.“Oh, wow, what did I write this time?” My voice barely squeaked out.
He pushed both papers toward me. “Read it.”
Inhaling, I took a long breath, drinking in courage as I snatched it from his hand and read in a monotone voice.
“Or maybe if this is too hard for you to find me a husband on your own, I’ll give you some hints: He’s tall, with perfect manners just like my dad, that way my dad would approve. He makes me laugh even when we do the most random day things. He’s smart and always knows how to make me smile. He uses rare words that only he would know—"My voice dropped off.
My heart constricted.
I did not just read that . . .
As if to confirm what was right in front of me, one tiny snowflake glittered down onto my letter, landing perfectly on the word “rare.” Holding my breath, I waited for the snowflake to melt, but it stayed frozen, glistening back at me.
There’s clearly only one person who had the weird obsession with rare words.
He was standing right in front of me.
“This is weird,” I squawked out, feeling confused, but not-like-it-was-written-at-the-Geneva-Convention confused. More like why-am-I-the-last-to-know confused?
Nick pushed the other paper forward. “Now read this one.”
I tried to take it without looking at him, but his eyes had this crazy magnetic pull. Like an impenetrable force, and my gaze glued to his. It was near-impossible to tear my eyes away to read the paper, but my burning curiosity made me do it.
“I don’t need a soulmate, just someone who fits perfectly under my chin.”
My eyes instantly stung with tears begging me not to hold back anymore. There couldn’t be a clearer sign pointing me to Nick. A spiral of warm wind snuck behind me and pushed me forward. I struggled not to stumble, but I had gotten the hint. With the letter still in hand, I stepped forward, closing the gap between us until I was right under his chin. “You know,” I started slowly, not feeling scared at all. “I refuse to believe in soulmates, but the way my forehead butts up neatly into the nook below your chin is . . . perfect.”
