by Jana Aston
“Not real magic, Noel,” Ginger snaps, her chin tilted up in defiance. “Don’t be such a cynic. He just meant holiday magic.” Then she twirls off to the next storefront.
Holiday magic. Hmph. I wonder if I can blame holiday magic for my one-night stand. The one-night stand I left in my house. By himself. Who does that? Seriously, I’m such an asshole.
“I can’t deal with you right now, Ginger. I have actual real-life problems.”
“Like what?” she challenges, clearly disbelieving I’ve got anything going on at the moment.
“I slept with Santa Claus last night, for starters.”
“You did not.” I’ve got her attention now, that’s for sure. She’s staring at me, a mixture of doubt and curiosity on her face as if she’s not sure if I’m messing with her or if I’m serious.
“I did. I really did. His suit is still lying on my living room floor.” And he’s still lying in my bed because I’m a jerk. I panicked.
“His red suit?” Ginger’s face has just lit up. I’m pretty sure I’ve made her entire year with this revelation. I’m not even mad. If I was in her shoes I’d be all over this story like a kitten in a Christmas tree too.
I gnaw on my lip and wonder if Teddy’s still at my place or if he’s woken up and vacated yet. I wonder if anyone else has ever snuck out of their own house after a one-night stand or if I’ve just set the bar for weird one-night stand behavior?
“Serious question though.” Ginger interrupts my thoughts, pausing until I’ve made eye contact with her and raised my brows, indicating she should end the dramatic pause and ask her question. “How is he gonna make the rounds on Christmas Eve without his suit? He can’t slide down chimneys in his underwear. Everyone knows he needs the suit to make the entire thing work.”
My sweet baby sister manages to deliver that entire speech with a straight face, until the end, when she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“I hate you,” I announce, turning on my heel and heading to the next shop. I’ve been done with my Christmas shopping since Thanksgiving like any self-respecting Christmas lover. The only thing I need is a box full of chocolates so I can stuff my feelings down my throat a hundred and sixty calories at a time .
“You should at least hang it up, don’t you think?” Ginger is hustling down the sidewalk to keep up with me so she can keep talking about this. “What if Santa doesn’t get it back in time to have it pressed? He can’t pull an all-nighter delivering presents in a wrinkled suit as if he’s on the sleigh ride of shame, Noel! Think of the children!”
She’s doubled over on the sidewalk, clutching her sides, laughing at me.
“You’re a terrible person, Ginger. I hope you get a stocking full of coal.”
“I probably will.” She stands upright, eyes full of delight. “Now that you’ve got an in with Santa.”
“You’re my least favorite sister. Also, I’m returning your Christmas present since I’ve gifted you with this story that’s so delighting you.”
“Totally fine,” Ginger agrees. “This story is going to delight me more than anything you could have bought me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter.
“So you really had a one-night stand with some guy in a Santa suit last night?”
“Yup.” I nod. “I mean I know who he is. It’s not like I was calling him Santa all night.”
“Good to know.” Ginger nods as if she considered the possibility that I was involved in some kinky Santa fuckery. “Do you like him? Are you going to see him again?”
“I, um…” I pause, unsure how to answer. Am I? Do I? Why did I even bring him up? Why am I still thinking about him? He’s not even staying in Reindeer Falls. He’s not forever material, let alone boyfriend material.
But maybe he’s one-week material. That’s a thing, right?
Ginger and I part ways a few minutes later when we spot her new boyfriend leaving the old auto body shop at the end of Main Street and she takes off to find out what he’s up to. I reluctantly head home, already knowing what I’ll find.
Teddy’s long gone.
Chapter 9
I’m a little melancholy when I walk into work the next morning. It’s the byproduct of having the best sex of your life but not being real sure you handled it properly and also it was with your co-worker’s brother. It all adds up to a bowlful of awkward, to be honest.
But surely he didn’t tell her, right? That’s what we agreed upon. Sorta. I’m sure I mentioned it in passing, which implies some kind of binding agreement including a five-year statute of limitations.
Still, the guilt. Now I feel like I’m keeping something from her. Or lying. I hate lying. Avoiding uncomfortable emotional situations, fine. Lying, icky.
So perhaps I can just avoid Jillian for the rest of the month?
Nah. I’m overthinking this. Jillian said Teddy is only in town temporarily. This will all blow over in a week. Still, I dawdle in my car until exactly one minute before starting time.
I’m in my office all of half a minute before Jillian bursts in.
“I am so sorry!”
I’m confused because she’s the one apologizing, not me. Not that I actually need to apologize for sleeping with her brother. We’re both grown consenting adults. But she took the time to warn me that he’s exactly not my type so sleeping with him feels sorta rude. Like I don’t value her advice. Which I do. It’s just that her brother is insanely sexy and that’ll void good advice every time.
“My brother is such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s not that bad,” I object with a small laugh, feeling a twinge of defensiveness for Teddy. He really was nothing like the picture Jillian painted of him.
“Not that bad?” Her eyebrows are in danger of reaching her hairline. “He stood you up on Saturday. After he swore to me that he’d show up.”
“No, he didn’t.” I’m frowning as I shake my head, slowly lowering myself into my chair and tapping my keyboard to spring my computer to life. “He was here. The entire afternoon. He was an excellent Santa, by the way.”
“Uh, that’s not possible.” Jillian’s really riled up and I’m starting to feel uneasy. She’s waving her arms in the air and pacing in my office, which is never a good sign. “The little shit went to Vegas. I didn’t even realize he’d stood you up until I saw his pictures on Instagram the following morning.”
Little shit. My unease is beginning to grow as pieces of a puzzle that don’t go together are trying to arrange themselves in my mind. It also feels like a scarf of humiliation is wrapping itself around my throat. It’s really hot and itchy. Pretty sure it’s made out of synthetic materials like regret and assumption.
“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 10
“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 11
“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.
