by Karen Rock
The kid studied him. “Will I get my bike?”
He glanced quickly at the boy’s mom, who nodded quickly. “Yes.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEX SCANNED THE row of gingerbread houses on the baked-goods table, the tempting aromas of chocolate and peppermint cookies mixed with gingerbread and cinnamon making her stomach growl. So far, Santa’s Village had exceeded her expectations. It really was the place for festive family fun and excitement. Between the holiday-themed rides and the various shops, a family could easily spend all day in the park and leave full of Christmas spirit and baked goods. Every child should experience the joy of this place at least once, she decided.
“Excuse me, miss,” a little boy said, tapping her on the arm.
“Oh, sorry, am I in your way?” she asked, moving aside.
“No... I was told to give you this,” he said, handing her a folded piece of paper before rushing off.
“Told by who?” she asked, but he was gone. She glanced around, an eerie feeling creeping down her spine. Alexis unfolded the paper.
They are impressive, but not as good as the one we made.
Her heart raced as her head snapped up to look around again. Liam was here? Somehow that didn’t surprise her—he’d always loved the Christmas season. It had meant a lot to him and his father. Obviously he could see her, but no matter which direction she looked, she couldn’t see him.
She waited for him to come out of his hiding place, but clearly he wasn’t about to reveal himself. She didn’t like that he had her at an unfair advantage. As she folded the paper and surveyed the gingerbread house designs again, the memory of their baking day eight years ago resurfaced.
“I’ve never built one of these,” she’d told him when he’d announced their Christmas preparation plan for that day. He had something different planned each day that December—skating, sledding, tree decorating, carol singing—and everything was marked on a countdown calendar on his apartment wall. That day the plan was to bake.
“It’s easy. And I kinda cheated this year and bought the premade pieces in the kit. I have no idea what happened to my fire extinguisher and, well, the last time I let you at my stove...”
She’d hit him. “Shut up and just tell me what I’m supposed to do first.”
That day in his tiny kitchen, they’d built the most impressive, candy-coated, icing-loaded gingerbread house she’d ever seen. He’d immediately wanted to eat it, but she hadn’t let him. “No! You can’t destroy it. It’s my first one.”
He’d wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “It won’t be the last.”
“A new holiday tradition?” she’d asked, feeling the spirit of Christmas for the first time in her life. She hadn’t experienced that feeling since.
“Yes, a new holiday tradition,” he’d said.
And now, standing in the middle of Santa’s Village all these years later, tears gathered unexpectedly in her eyes. Alexis swallowed hard as she fought to control the overwhelming sensation of loss and longing that enveloped her. Everything she’d ever wanted had been so close. And then it was gone.
“Were you wanting to buy something, miss?” a village employee asked, coming up beside her.
“Um...” She picked up a small house covered in peppermint candy and chocolate icing. “I’ll take this one.” If she couldn’t erase the memories, maybe she could eat them away.
As she left the bake shop, she saw the kids from the bus as they left the North Pole Post Office. “Hello again! Did you mail your letter?” she asked the little girl. She still needed to mail her documents. She’d almost forgotten. She checked her watch, hoping the post office would be open a little longer.
Her blond ponytail bobbed up and down. “Have you sent yours yet?”
“Ah...well, adults don’t usually send letters to Santa.” Adults knew that magic and fairy tales weren’t real. They just liked creating false hope in their children. That had been her mother’s response when, at the age of five, Alexis had tearfully asked why she didn’t believe in Santa when all the other kids in her kindergarten class did.
“My mom writes one every year.” The little girl lowered her voice as she added, “She says each year she hopes Santa will bring jewelry instead of appliances.” She shrugged. “I don’t think she sends them in time.”
Behind her, her mother blushed and Alexis hid a smile.
“You should write one,” the little boy spoke up.
She hesitated when he grabbed her hand.
“Come on. We’ll help you.”
She sighed. She didn’t spend much time around children, so she had no idea how to argue with them. “Okay.”
Inside the post office was a flurry of elf activity as the volunteers helped the children write their letters, seal them and then place them into Santa’s mailbox.
“You guys are back. Did you forget to put something in your letter?” asked a volunteer, wearing a green elf hat and pointy shoes with bells on the toes.
“No. We’re here with our friend this time,” the little girl said.
Friend? Her heart warmed a little at the thought.
The volunteer smiled. “Great. Have a seat and I’ll grab you a crayon. Unless you’d prefer a pen?”
“Crayon is fine.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used one. She sat on one of the tiny, child-size wooden chairs at a table with several other kids and her new “friends.” To her surprise, none of the kids thought it was weird that an adult was joining them.
“Here you are,” the volunteer said, handing her a red crayon and a holiday-themed template with a green border and a picture of a Christmas tree in the corner. “When you’re done, preaddressed envelopes are just over there.” She pointed toward the table near Santa’s mailbox where a long line of children waited to send their letters.
“Great. Hey, is this an actual US postal office?” she whispered, pulling out the court documents from her purse.
The volunteer nodded.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Could I mail this from here and have it reach LA by the twenty-sixth?”
“You sure can,” she said, taking it. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“So, what are you going to ask for?” the little girl asked, sitting down next to her.
She had no idea. In LA she had everything she wanted—a nice house near the beach, a new Lexus convertible and more clothes than she could wear in two lifetimes.
The only things she longed for were things she doubted Santa could bring her. “I don’t know...” This wasn’t a great idea. “I mean, I’m an adult, so I usually just buy the stuff I want.”
The little boy leaned forward. “Was there something that you wanted Santa to bring you before that you didn’t get? You could ask for it again,” he suggested.
Something she’d wanted that she hadn’t gotten. There was one thing... She hesitated, then covered her page as she wrote.
“Let us see,” the little girl said.
The boy peered over her shoulder.
“No way. But I’ll put in a good word for the two of you, as well, okay?”
That seemed to satisfy them. They nodded and stood. “Mom is looking for us. Don’t forget to mail it,” the little girl said, grabbing her brother’s hand and rushing outside.
She watched them leave, then stood up, folded her letter and tucked it into her pocket. There was no way to get her Christmas wish, so there was no point in mailing her letter. Unless Santa could turn back time, she didn’t think she would ever get what she really wanted.
* * *
AS LIAM WALKED through the theme park hours later after his shift had ended, he marveled at how the place transformed once night fell. The lampposts were decorated wi
th garland and lights and the snow-covered trees sparkled with twinkling strands, as well. The shops were still open and families visited the Reindeer Barn and Santa’s Hat Maker, leaving with their personalized red felt hats as souvenirs of their trip to the North Pole.
He wondered if Alex had enjoyed her day there. He’d been shocked to see her there at all. He knew Christmas wasn’t her favorite time of year, which was why he’d done his best to make the holidays special for her when they were together—until he’d refused her proposal and left her. His chest ached at the thought.
He walked past a group of carolers and stopped for a moment to listen to “Silent Night” before continuing toward the shuttle bus pickup area. The day had been fantastic—interacting with the kids, seeing their excitement over the season... He used to be that kid. It hadn’t mattered that they didn’t have a lot of money, his father had always made sure they had a nice Christmas. The best part for him was always the preparation and the excitement leading up to Christmas Day. This year didn’t feel the same without his father.
And the loneliness awakened a longing in him for a family of his own—someone special to cuddle up with on snowy December nights in front of their fireplace and Christmas tree, and someday a family to share in the Christmas-morning excitement. A long time ago, he’d thought he’d found the person he wanted to build a life with, but sometimes the things you wanted most were the things that terrified you the most. The commitment Alexis had been asking him for—the decision she’d been expecting him to make—had caused him to panic and he’d handled things in the worst possible way.
As he walked, he thought about that night...
The Chase home was extravagant. He’d stood in the main foyer, which was the size of his father’s house, staring at the elegant rounding staircase leading to the upper floors. Christmas music played throughout the house through a central sound system and the chatter of the party guests in the next room created a warm, welcoming feel...that didn’t quite make him feel entirely warm or welcome.
Attending Alexis’s parents’ annual Christmas Eve gala hadn’t been his first choice of ways to spend the evening. The few times he’d met the couple, he’d felt awkward and out of place, but she’d made that pouty, irresistible face that he had no power to resist. He’d had no choice but to attend. He just wished she’d been the one to answer the door. Once he saw her he would be okay, he’d thought.
But seeing her descend the staircase a moment later had had the opposite effect. Gone was the girl in jeans and a ponytail, the girl who wore almost no makeup and preferred all-night television marathon sessions and pizza delivery at 2:00 a.m. to going out on the town. Dressed in a white sequined gown that trailed on the stairs behind her, her hair in loose curls around her shoulders, and her silver, strappy heels clicking against the tiles, she was barely recognizable. She was stunning as usual...but different. And unfortunately different hadn’t put him at ease.
She’d smiled, but he couldn’t even force a fake one in return, so he’d stood paralyzed on the spot until she reached him. Her smile had faded just a little as she hugged him. “Hi. You look great.”
He was wearing a rented tuxedo that fit too tight across his quarterback shoulders and dress shoes that slipped whenever he tried to walk. This entire event was far beyond his comfort zone and he longed for a T-shirt and pair of jeans. “Thanks,” he mumbled, too anxious to remember to return the compliment.
Disappointment flashed in her eyes. It wouldn’t be the last time that evening he’d see that same look—the one that said he wasn’t meeting her expectations. Or anyone else’s.
All evening he’d clung to her side, meeting family and friends who offered polite smiles and friendly handshakes, but he could tell they were all wondering why their brilliant, beautiful Alexis was dating a broke football player who came from the less desirable part of town. The son of a mechanic who was paying for college with a scholarship instead of a trust fund.
“You need to relax,” she said. “Just be yourself.”
How could he be himself? It was obvious he would never measure up to her parents’ standards. He wasn’t blind—he’d noticed that the other guests at the party included the sons of her father’s colleagues. They were all more suitably matched for her than he was, and they were all vying for her attention. He was jealous, uncomfortable and not at all in a festive mood. “I think maybe I should go,” he said, checking his watch. He’d been hoping to get through this party and then steal her away for a quiet Christmas Eve together under the tiny piece of mistletoe hanging in his apartment. She’d unwrap the gifts he was dying to give her under the three-foot tall artificial tree that was taking up far too much space in his tiny bachelor apartment. There was also something he’d been waiting till that evening to tell her: he loved her. Unfortunately, the longer he stayed, the less confident he was about confessing his feelings.
“You can’t go. You haven’t even said hello to my parents yet,” she said, glancing across the room. “There they are. Let’s just go say hi. We’ll get out of here soon, I promise.”
Reluctantly, he found himself being led across the room.
“Mom, Dad. You remember Liam.”
Her mother smiled tightly as she extended a hand. “Welcome. I’m glad you could make it,” she said.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Chase,” he croaked, hating the lack of confidence in his voice.
Her father studied him. “So, our daughter tells us you are attending college on a football scholarship.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did she tell you I played a little in college myself?”
“Dad, you played one season in your sophomore year,” Alex said, rolling her eyes at her father. “Liam is actually hoping to be drafted to the NFL next year.”
Her father nodded slowly. “Football is your chosen profession, then? You’re not studying another field?”
His mouth had gone dry and his palms were sweaty. Alex had shot him a look he hadn’t quite understood at the time. He did now. She’d wanted him to make something up that might impress her father. Say that he was also studying business with the hope of earning an MBA or something. Well, he wasn’t and he wasn’t about to lie to try to earn her father’s respect. “Not really, sir. For me, college is just a way to play pro football.”
Judge Chase had frowned and sipped his brandy, and her mother’s lips had formed a thin line. “Well, it was wonderful seeing you again. Alexis, can you help me in the kitchen for a minute?”
Alex had squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek, but he’d barely felt either. He felt as if he were drowning as he’d watched her walk away.
So many times over the past eight years, he wished he could go back and change his behavior that evening, but as time had passed, the idea of contacting Alex had seemed more and more ridiculous. He wished he’d had the confidence then that he had now. He wished he’d been able to handle being the man Alex needed and her family expected for their daughter.
But the past was the past, and he couldn’t change the fact that he’d messed up back then. All he could do was hope that three days was enough to convince her to give him another chance. But that wouldn’t be possible if he allowed her to keep avoiding him.
An idea was forming in his mind, and he smiled as he boarded the shuttle bus back to the lodge.
* * *
TRUE TO HIS WORD, the next morning Liam let Alex sleep in. But he still intended on being the one to wake her up.
At exactly ten o’clock, after he’d been awake for four hours wondering how on earth someone could possibly sleep so long, he knocked on her room door.
The sound of grumbling on the other side made him smile. He remembered the morning he’d woken her early to watch the sun rise in a canoe out on the lake near campus. She’d been so annoyed, had fought against getting up...he’d even had to put on her shoes and t
oss her over his shoulder to get her out of her apartment, but once the sun had crested the horizon, she’d cuddled in to him and smiled.
He hoped he could coax a smile out of her with this morning’s gesture, as well.
He knocked again, and she opened the door. Her half-closed eyes widened when she saw him standing there. “I thought you were going to let me sleep.”
“I did. For four hours,” he said in disbelief. “And now I brought breakfast,” he said, standing back to reveal the room-service tray the resort’s chef, Nico, had let him borrow once he’d explained his plan to woo one of their guests. Apparently romantic gestures at Christmastime went a long way in getting hotel staff to break certain rules.
“Breakfast?” Her eyes lit up just a little. He took it as a small victory.
“Yes. I wasn’t sure if you were still anti-carbs...”
She nodded. “Unless they’ve suddenly become waistline friendly...”
“Well, I have bacon, sausage, ham, eggs—all the protein you can eat. And I also have French toast in case you decide to live a little,” he said with a smile, knowing it used to be her favorite indulgence.
“Whip cream and cinnamon?”
And apparently still was. “Of course.”
He could almost see her mouth watering, but still, she hesitated.
“And coffee,” he said, holding the steaming mug under her nose.
The rich aroma of dark roast did it. “Fine. Come in...unless you’d consider just leaving the food.”
“Not a chance.” He held the door open with his foot and rolled the tray inside before she could change her mind.
She reached for the coffee and took a sip as she sat on the edge of her unmade bed.
He stared at the pile of paperwork on the table near the fireplace and her open laptop on the desk. Obviously, she was still a workaholic. He hoped he could help her relax a little and enjoy the season. “Why don’t we eat outside on the deck,” he suggested.
