by Aston, Jana
“How old is Teddy?” I question, as casually as possible, while my brain searches for any answer that makes sense with what I’m hearing.
“Twenty-three. Too old to be this irresponsible. God, I am so sorry, Noel. I didn’t realize he bailed until after the event was over and by then I was worried you weren’t speaking to me because you didn’t even text me to bitch about him bailing.”
She pauses here, confusion crossing her face as my words about Teddy being a great Santa finally catch up with her. She stops pacing, hand on hip.
“Wait, what do you mean he was here? Who was here?”
Great question.
Knockoff Teddy was at least thirty.
“I have no idea,” I mumble, dropping my head into my hands, slumped over my desk.
“What does that mean exactly?” Jillian grabs my cookie tin—newly filled with cookies via my sister—and pops it open, settling into one of the guest chairs in front of my desk.
“He said he was Teddy.” I frown, remembering. He said that, right? No. I asked him if he was Teddy and he shrugged and said, “Sure.” I’m remembering that shrug in a new light now. What kind of psycho just pretends to be someone they’re not? No wonder he was nearly smirking.
What an asshole. Whoever he is.
But he knew me, didn’t he? He looked at me like I was familiar to him, or like he was expecting to meet me. He said things about me not being what he’d expected. He mentioned me working at the community center, didn’t he? How would he know that if he didn’t know who I was? I riffle through my memories, but they’re all jumbled up.
We’ve never met before. I’m sure of that much. I’d remember that hot asshole.
“Your brother really went to Vegas this weekend?” I question even though I’m sure Jillian isn’t confused. Knockoff Teddy was not her brother.
Jillian hands me her phone, screen up and her brother’s Instagram account on display.
“Yeah,” I muse, scrolling through the last few photos. Her brother is hot. But he’s twenty-three and not my type. And he’s most definitely not Knockoff Teddy. “I wouldn’t have slept with him,” I mumble as I flip her phone over in my hand, ready to hand it back.
“Wait, what?” Jillian snaps to attention, straightening up in the chair so fast she nearly drops the tin of cookies in her haste. “You slept with some random Santa and you don’t even know who it was?”
“It’s looking that way, yeah. And don’t be so harsh. I thought I knew who he was.” I cross my arms across my chest and huff in irritation. “It could have happened to anyone.”
“Err,” Jillian hedges, “that’s doubtful. The chances of banging Santa have got to be super-low. For starters he only gets out once a year.”
“Haha. Jillian’s got jokes.” I roll my eyes before slumping in my chair, defeated.
“Okay, catch me up. Someone who was not my brother showed up and voluntarily put on a Santa suit, then spent the entire afternoon taking pictures with crabby kids before he seduced you in the library office?”
“Um, sorta?” It wasn’t exactly like that. “He asked me to dinner first.”
“Ohh.” Jillian looks interested. She’s abandoned the cookies to wave me on.
“Which I declined. Then he talked me into having hot chocolate with him. And then I lured him back to my house and seduced him.”
“But you never exchanged numbers or real names? Did you call him Santa all night? You’re such a pervert.” Jillian’s expression is a mixture of awe and abhorrence.
“I thought his name was Teddy. And no, we didn’t exchange numbers.” I straighten the stapler on my desk, wondering how I can get her out of my office before she asks any more questions. “Is your office phone ringing? I think I hear it ringing.” I look pointedly toward the door.
“How did it end?” Jillian is not going to be dissuaded. “Did he escape through your chimney while you were sleeping?”
“No.” I staple a couple of Post-Its together. “I used the front door to leave while he was sleeping and he was gone by the time I came home.”
Jillian blinks at me.
I attach a paperclip to my stapled Post-its.
“You snuck out of your own house? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure if that’s what happened or you’re not sure what’s wrong with you?”
“The latter.”
I gnaw on my lip, more upset than I have a right to be. I’m confused too, because I’m not exactly sure why I care. Knockoff Teddy was just a fling, that’s all. It’s not like I expected or wanted more from him. Hell, I’m the one who ditched him. I’m the one who didn’t even give him a chance to ask for more, or even so much as my number.
But… why is that? Why didn’t I even let him take me to a real dinner when he asked?
Because better safe than sorry, right? Or maybe what I really mean is it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Except there’s another saying in twenty-something dating. It’s better to have loved and taken the hell off before he doesn’t call. Okay, fine, that’s not an actual saying.
That’s my fear talking.
I was scared. That’s the truth of the matter. Scared that Teddy felt like something real. Like someone real. So instead of risking my heart and giving him even half a chance, I used him for sex and bolted.
’Tis the season to act like a dick.
But I was right, wasn’t I? He’s not heart-worthy material. What kind of man lets you spend an entire day thinking he’s someone he’s not? Huh? What about that? I want to slide the vindication of my righteousness over my shoulders like a puffy down parka, but it’s not fitting as well as I’d expected. It’s kinda tight, as if I misjudged my size. As if I accidentally picked out a parka in the children’s department. Which I might have, because I acted like a child.
Or maybe… possibly… my love-shielding parka doesn’t fit as well as it once did.
Maybe it doesn’t fit because I’m wearing a thick sweater of regret under it. A heavy cable-knit yarn of what-if.
Maybe I should have taken a chance. Let him take me to dinner. Let him kiss me good night on my doorstep and given him the chance to call and ask me out again. See where it led instead of being so sure I knew where we’d end up. Given him the chance to break my heart, because maybe, just maybe, it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
“Well, that was quite the Christmas feel-good story, Noel. Thank you.” Jillian stands and brushes the crumbs off of her lap and onto my office floor. Normally this would irritate the hell out of me but I’m so distracted I let it slide.
Distracted because I’d really like to see Knockoff Teddy again.
Too bad I have no idea who he is.
Chapter 9
“I totally fucked up.”
Surprisingly, those words aren’t coming out of my mouth.
My sister Holly asked me to meet her for lunch. I haven’t seen her in over a week because she was out of the country on a business trip with her hot boss. She claims he’s a grade-A+ certified Grinch, but she also texted me while they were on that business trip and told me she slept with him so she’s either a terrible judge of character or she’s got a thing for assholes.
I mean, obviously she was lying to herself. Or confused. I wonder if that’s genetic? It’s slightly mollifying to know I’m not the only screwup in love. The thing is, those Disney movies made it look a lot easier than it is. If I were in a Disney movie, Knockoff Teddy would simply reappear with a glass slipper and I’d be the only girl in Reindeer Falls who wore a size eight in glass slippers and that’d be that.
“With Nick,” Holly continues. “I really messed up, but I fixed it. You can fix this too, Noel.”
“Um, big difference, Holly, you knew where to find Nick. I don’t know where to find Knockoff Teddy.”
I’ve already told her the entire sad, sordid tale.
Wait though.
Knockoff Teddy is kinda like Prince Charming in the Cinderella story. You know, if Cinderella and Prince Charming had had a really sexy tryst before Cindy ran off? And then Cindy realized she was an idiot for running away so she went back and apologized instead of making Prince Charming search the entire kingdom for her.
Except Cinderella knew who Prince Charming was and knew where she could find him on account of attending the ball at his castle.
So this is really nothing like that. The point is, I could search for Knockoff Teddy.
If I could get a picture from Saturday, I could ask around, see if anyone knows who he is. Then I could track him down and apologize and ask him if he wants to kiss again.
“I’ve gotta go,” I announce to Holly, already rising from my seat.
“Uh, where?” Holly looks unimpressed. I can’t really blame her, we met at the North Pole Café for lunch and she’s not even done with her sandwich yet. But now that I realize what I need to do I can’t waste any more time.
“I’m going to find Knockoff Teddy. Wish me luck!”
* * *
The first thing I do is run down to the Reindeer Falls Photo Studio. They’re the photographers we used for photos with Santa at the Library. I just need to get a picture of Knockoff Teddy and show it around. Sure, it’s not ideal that he’s got a fake beard taped to his face in these photos, and a fake Santa belly. And a hat. And the Santa glasses. But surely someone will recognize him under all that. It’s Christmas, after all, and anything is possible at Christmas.
Getting the photo is a bit trickier than I anticipated. Apparently photo studios think it’s weird when tell them you’re there to pick up a photo of Santa and you don’t particularly care which kid is in the photo.
I know, I should have thought that through before going in.
Photo secured, I race over to the library. The photographer was a bust, by the way. He had no idea who Santa was.
Neither does the librarian.
Nor does the butcher, the baker or the candlestick maker. No, really. I ask Tom, the town butcher. And my sister Ginger, the baker. And then I stop by the Jack Frost Candle Company and ask the girl working the register.
No one knows.
It’s possibly the most embarrassing afternoon of my life.
Admittedly the photo isn’t a lot to go on. It’s harder than you’d think to identify someone wearing a disguise. Or maybe it’s exactly as hard as you’d think.
I even circle back to the North Pole Café to ask if they remember me being in over the weekend and if anyone knows who I was with. No and no. That conversation is even more awkward than it sounds.
Finding Knockoff Teddy is going to require a Christmas miracle.
Chapter 10
“I heard you had a nice weekend.”
I look up to find Mrs Carrington grinning at me. It’s bridge day for the seniors’ club at the community center and I, for one, am relieved.
Relieved because surely Mrs Carrington is not about to make a joke about my banging Santa.
Surely.
Unlike everyone else in my life.
Having sisters is both a blessing and a curse. Sure, they’re always there for you. But they’re always there to mock you too.
“Hey, I heard Mr Owens has a buy-one-get-one free coupon for the Honey Jam Café and he’s looking for someone to accompany him to dinner tonight.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively, hoping she bites. I already gave Mr Owens the coupon and suggested it was Mrs Carrington’s favorite restaurant. And pointed out that the coupon expires today.
The Honey Jam Café doesn’t even have a buy-one-get-one free coupon. I went on my own lunch hour and convinced the manager to go along with my scheme, then spent twenty minutes making a fake coupon on my laptop to hand off to Mr Owens.
I’d really hate for all my hard work to go to waste. Besides, it’s never too late to find love, right? Be it the first time, the second time, or the tenth time. There’s no such thing as too much love. And I’m positive there’s a spark there. I think they just need a little shove in the right direction.
And then, who knows? Everyone deserves a happy ending. They might find one with each other.
“A buy-one-get-one-free coupon for the Honey Jam Café?” Mrs Carrington doesn’t look as impressed as I’d expected. I could have sworn it was her favorite restaurant.
“Doesn’t that sound lovely?” I push.
“I suppose it sounds all right,” she hedges. “But I was going to have dinner with my grandson today.”
“Surely he won’t mind rescheduling. The coupon expires today. And it’s a limited-edition coupon.” I nod my head very seriously to make up for the fact that I sound like an idiot. A limited-edition coupon? For fuck’s sake.
“Oh, dear. The expiring limited-edition coupon.” Mrs Carrington places a hand at the base of her throat, eyes widening ever so slightly. She’s got a stack of bracelets on that jangle with the movement. Mrs Carrington is the type of woman who is always put together. Hair styled, makeup applied, her signature stack of bracelets on. She’s also wearing a bright red cardigan today. The perfect Christmassy date outfit.
I nod again, face straight. I deserve an award for not cracking under the pressure.
“Shoot, it’s just that I have the same limited-edition coupon. Expiring today,” she adds with a rueful smile. Like hey, what can she do? She can’t control these make-believe limited-edition expiring coupons any more than I can. “So my grandson will have to come with.”
Gah. She’s gonna ruin this date with Mr Owens before it’s even begun. Why are people so stubborn when you’re only trying to help?
“You can’t bring your grandson on the date, Mrs Carrington. They’re buy-one-get-one free coupons. Besides, three’s a bit of a crowd, don’t you think?”
“I agree. That’s why you’re coming too. So we’ll have four. And we’ll get two tables.” Then she winks at me.
Yeah. I just got played by a grandma.
The surprises just keep coming because not a moment later I turn around and run smack into none other than Knockoff Teddy himself.
Chapter 11
“Teddy?” It’s one of those comical run-ins like you’d see in a movie. I actually turn around and walk straight into him, complete with the ‘oof’ departing my mouth and his hands steadying my forearms so I don’t topple over. “I mean Not Teddy. I mean, um, hi.”
“Noel.” He smiles at me, still holding onto my arms.
“This is my grandson Theo,” Mrs Carrington is saying beside us. “He hasn’t let anyone call him Teddy since he was in grade school.”
Theo… Teddy. I replay our first meeting in my mind. The way he shrugged and said, “Sure,” when I called him Teddy. Because I was close enough and he just decided to roll with it, I suppose.
“Noel can call me Teddy,” he says now, not taking his eyes off of me. And oh, holy hell, why is that making me feel things? Crazy things. Noel can call me Teddy. It’s nothing, really. But somehow… it’s everything. The tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at me, the permission to call him something no one else does.
Ugh, that’s stupid, right? To feel some weird secret thrill over that?
Wait.
Grandson?
“Teddy is your grandson?” I feel the need to repeat it, to clarify beyond all confusion this time, before he gets away from me again.
Yeah, yeah. I know technically I’m the one who ran away the first time. Don’t be a shrew about it.
“Yes, my grandson. The one you’re having dinner with tonight.” Mrs Carrington smiles triumphantly, clearly quite pleased with herself at finally arranging this setup.
Little does she know, we’re just a little past a setup. And now I’m blushing. Like Rudolph’s nose on a foggy night kind of blushing.
“Theo, I hate to leave you on your own for dinner but Noel has set me up on a date with Mr Owens and, well, she’s put in so much effort creating a fake coupon and finagling the entire thing it seems like it’d
be a shame to waste all her matchmaking efforts.”
This time I place my fingertips on my cheeks, as if I might be able to judge how red they are by feeling them.
“I did no such thing. Just a gentle nudge,” I mutter, because I’m mostly speaking to myself at this point.
“Isn’t Mr Owens the one who stopped over on Saturday?” Teddy questions. “When you got me out of the house by sending me to the library to return your books?”
Oh, my God. Wait. They’re already a thing? Her and Mr Owens? She’s been playing me this entire time, hasn’t she? I turn an incredulous glare at Mrs Carrington.
“What?” She shrugs, clearly unbothered by her treachery. “So we’ve been out a few times already. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your efforts.” She turns her attention to Teddy. “And you, don’t think I didn’t notice you missed breakfast the following morning. Pictures with Santa ended at seven.”
Teddy laughs, like his grandma teasing him about being out all night is normal banter for them.
“You two run along and have a nice dinner. I think Warren’s got a real coupon for the restaurant at the Bavarian Inn so that’s where we’re headed.” With a pleased smile Mrs Carrington leaves and I’m left with Teddy.
He turns to me, a confused expression on his face.
“Who exactly did you think I was?”
Right. That.
Chapter 12
He seems a little bit incredulous, which is fair. Maybe a hint irritated, which is also fair. We’ve left the community center and gone to the Honey Jam Café for dinner because fake limited-edition coupon or not, who doesn’t want pancakes for dinner?
“I thought you were my co-worker’s brother.” I fidget in my seat while playing with a straw wrapper. “He was supposed to show up to put on the Santa suit and then you walked in looking at me like you knew me.” I stop fidgeting and shoot him a challenging look as I lean back against the booth seat. “Which is a super-reasonable assumption if you think about it.”
