The beard came off next, and I saw his face.
Simon's face.
Simon's warm eyes, watching me with such love and hope and nervousness.
"Surprise, bud," he said softly.
For a moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process what I was seeing.
Simon was my Secret Santa.
Simon had been my Secret Santa all along.
Every gift. Every note. Every thoughtful gesture. It had all been him.
The weighted blanket. The journal. The hat and gloves. The soup. The art supplies. The pajamas. The sippy cup. The snacks. Peanut. The nightlight. The care package with all my little items.
All of it.
All Simon.
"You," I breathed. "It's been you the whole time."
"Yeah, bud. It's been me." He stood up slowly, like he was worried I might run. "From the very beginning. I've been watching you, noticing things about you, wanting to take care of you. And when you showed up here that first night, I knew. I knew you were mine to care for."
The tears came then. Hot and fast and unstoppable.
"You've been taking care of me all along," I sobbed. "As my Daddy and as my Secret Santa. It's the same. You're the same person."
"I am." He opened his arms. "Come here, sweet boy."
I launched myself at him.
The momentum sent us both tumbling backward. We went down in a heap of red Santa suit and snow and tangled limbs.
But I didn't care. I was kissing him—desperate, happy kisses peppered all over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips.
"It's you," I said between kisses. "It's you, it's you, it's you."
He was laughing, his arms wrapped tight around me even as we lay sprawled in the snow. "It's me, bud. Always been me. Always going to be me."
"I was so worried," I confessed, pulling back just enough to see his face. "I thought my Secret Santa might be someone else. Someone who wanted to be my Daddy. And I didn't know how to tell them that I'd already chosen you. That you were it for me."
His expression softened impossibly further. "You chose me?"
"Of course I chose you. From that first night when you waited for me on the porch. From the first time you called me 'bud.' From every moment you've spent taking care of me." I cupped his face in my gloved hands. "I'm falling in love with you, Daddy."
His eyes went shiny with unshed tears. "I’m falling in love with you too, Tanner. You've become everything to me."
We kissed again, slower this time. Deeper. A promise and a claim all at once.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard and grinning like fools.
"We should probably get out of the snow," Simon said, though he made no move to get up.
"Probably," I agreed, not moving either.
We lay there for another moment, just looking at each other. Then Simon started laughing—deep, joyful laughter that made his whole body shake.
