Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
One year later
Clayton
The scent of pine and cinnamon filled the atrium—my signature, apparently.Last year Felix would’ve rolled his eyes at the idea of “scent-themed morale strategy.” This year Felix had ordered three extra crates of cinnamon sticks and called it brand continuity.
The man was learning.
I stood in the middle of the lobby, clipboard in one hand, watching as the finishing touches went up.
The tree reached nearly to the second-floor balcony, strung with warm white lights that reflected off the gold ornaments I’d chosen.
Staff were laughing, not groaning; the interns were singing Christmas carols without being bribed.
We’d done it.
A year ago, the company had been all numbers and deadlines.
Now the office felt alive—still efficient, still sharp, but full of color and small kindnesses.
Felix had given me the impossible title Event and Engagement Director, which I suspected was just code for make everyone smile, Clayton, and I’d thrown myself into it like it was a second heartbeat.
Even better, it had worked. Staff turnover had plummeted, productivity was up, and the company’s social feed was full of people bragging about how much they loved their jobs.
I'd had to turn down a ton of office parties this year.
Anna, the mom with the little girl in the wheelchair had seen the video posted on social media where Jason had humiliated me, and she had been so disgusted at my treatment, her outrage along with a picture of me and Santa's special fairy had gone viral. Jason had been fired.
I also had more job offers than one person could possibly do, but I'd officially hung up the red hat except for our company party.
Well, and except for the private parties Sir and I had at home which still involved wearing the red hat…but just the red hat and nothing else.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. I turned—and there he was.
Felix. My sir. My Daddy. Although I only called him that in private or at the club.
Still impossibly handsome, still wearing confidence like a second skin. But there was something softer around the edges now. His eyes crinkled more when he smiled. He did that a lot these days.
“Mr. North,” he said, mock-formal, taking in the organized chaos around us. “You’ve outdone yourself. Again.”
I grinned and lowered my voice. “Don’t call me that, sir. People might think I’m respectable.”
He leaned in, voice low enough for me only. “You’re the most respectable man I know. Even bare ass naked over my knee.”
I laughed, swatting at him with my clipboard. He caught it easily, stealing a quick kiss completely uncaring that everyone could see.
Across the room, the sound of jingling bells erupted. A crowd of employees was gathering near the photo setup, chanting Santa! and I felt the familiar tug in my chest.
My turn.
“I still can’t believe you insisted on doing this yourself,” Felix said, following me into an empty office and watching me pull the red jacket over my shoulders.
I winked. “Tradition.”
He smiled. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Maybe,” I said, adjusting the fake beard, “but you love me for it.”
He didn’t deny it.
A few minutes later, I was in full Santa mode—kids from the company daycare climbing onto my lap, adults laughing as they took their turn for silly photos. The air was full of cocoa, music, and genuine cheer.
And then I saw her.
Naomi.
Her smile hit me first—wide and luminous, eyes wet already. She'd shared her story a year ago with Santa: how they had one last shot at IVF, how she’d told me at last year’s party that her only Christmas wish was to hold her baby.
Now she stood there, cradling a tiny baby swaddled in red.
“Santa,” she said softly, stepping forward, “this is Lily.”
The name caught in my throat. “She’s beautiful,” I whispered, meaning every word.
“She's a handful,” Naomi said, eyes bright. “We wanted you to meet her. You were the first person I told my wish to.”
My chest ached—the good kind of ache, full and warm. “Well,” I said, adjusting my beard, “I think Santa can safely say you’ve been on the nice list all year.”
Naomi laughed, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Oh, and—” She stepped aside slightly.
A tall boy, maybe thirteen, shuffled forward. Nervous. Shoulders hunched. Dressed in a crisp button-up that seemed he had to grow into.
“This is our son Noah,” Naomi said gently. “We finalized his adoption two months ago.”
The boy lifted his chin a little. “Hey,” he said, voice soft but steady.
I smiled, feeling something deep in my chest shift—that quiet, familiar pull of recognition. “Hey yourself, young man. Welcome to the family.”
He blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Thanks.”
Naomi’s hand found his shoulder. “We figured Santa should be the first to know we got two Christmas miracles.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak. The hall blurred through tears I didn’t bother to hide.
“Well,” I said finally, voice rough, “Santa’s got one rule — every big brother or sister gets a special ornament.” I reached for the box beside me, found one of the glass snowflakes I’d saved for last. “Here. For your tree.”
Noah’s fingers brushed mine as he took it. “Thanks, Santa.”
He didn’t know how much that meant—to see a kid that age smile, to see love starting to take root where fear used to live.
When they turned to go, Naomi looked back and mouthed thank you.
I hadn't thought my day could get any better after one of my friends from my old job had been in touch after they'd had a visit from a certain young runaway and his grandad. A very happy young man who was probably going to graduate high school with honors, and had left his contact details.
When the last child waved goodbye, I stood, stretching the kinks from my back. Felix was waiting by the doorway, hands in his pockets, that quiet pride on his face that still made my stomach flutter.
“Successful party, Mr. Claus?”
“The best one yet,” I said, cheeks aching from smiling.
He handed me a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and cinnamon, and I was pretty sure laced with something substantial. “You’ve made this place better than I ever could.”
I shrugged, embarrassed. “You gave me the chance to.”
He stepped closer, one hand brushing the back of my neck, just enough to make my pulse skip. “And you gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “Home.”
My throat tightened, but before I could answer, he bent and kissed me softly—nothing showy, just steady and sure. Around us, laughter and music swelled, and the twinkling lights blurred until everything felt warm and perfect.
Later, when the party wound down and the building emptied, he tugged me toward his office. The door clicked shut, and he pulled me into his arms—my safe place, always.
“You did well, sweetheart,” he murmured against my hair.
The praise still hit deep, even after a year. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He smiled into the kiss that followed, slow, loving, unhurried. The kind that promised everything we’d built wasn’t just happiness, but peace.
We headed for home. The snow was falling thick and slow, flakes spinning in the headlights like lazy sparks. The car turned down a quiet street—one I knew too well—and my pulse stuttered.
“Sir?” I asked softly. “Why are we on Maple Lane?”
He didn’t answer right away, just kept driving, hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward. The street curved, and then I saw it.
The bungalow.
My mom’s bungalow.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe. It looked the same yet completely different.
The peeling paint was gone, replaced with soft cream siding and deep green shutters.
The sagging porch had been rebuilt, glowing under fairy lights.
A wreath hung on the door, pine, cinnamon, and red ribbon, just like the one Mom used to make.
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” I whispered. “I sold it last spring.”
“I know,” Felix said quietly, parking in the drive.
The engine hummed to silence. I stared, throat tight, heart pounding. “You said we were going home.”
He turned to me, eyes gentle. “We are.”
My hands shook as I opened the car door. The snow muffled everything, even the sound of my boots crunching on the path. The porch light flickered as if the house recognized me.
Felix followed a step behind, his breath warm against the cold air. He reached into his coat and handed me a small velvet box.
I gazed down in confusion, and Felix chuckled, taking it back and opening it. Inside, a silver key blinked at me.
The front door creaked open before I could ask how, and a familiar laugh rang out.
“About time!” Olivia called, standing in the glow of the hallway. “You two drive slower than Santa’s sleigh in rush hour.”
“Olivia?” I blinked. “What are you—”
Then I saw it.
The tree.
Twinkling in the corner of the living room.
Not the store-bought kind, but a real one, full and uneven and perfect and covered in silver ribbons and tiny, handmade ornaments.
Some I'd made at the club with the other Littles, and some that the children from the company day care had made me.
The fireplace was lit, stockings hung with care.
Even the faint smell of cinnamon and cocoa filled the air.
My knees nearly gave out.
Olivia beamed, brushing snow off her coat. “Merry Christmas, Clayton.” She nodded toward Felix, eyes shining. “He did good, huh?”
She squeezed my hand and slipped out into the snow, humming as she went, leaving us alone in the quiet, glowing house.
I turned to Felix, my heart in my throat. “You…bought it?”
He nodded, slow and calm, but I saw the flicker of nerves in his eyes, rare for him. “I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else taking it apart. Your mom built something full of warmth, even when it was falling down around her. You told me that once. I wanted to give it back to you. To us.”
My vision blurred. I pressed a hand to my mouth. “You remodeled it?”
He smiled faintly. “Top to bottom. New wiring, new floors. Olivia handled the decor because, well—”
“Because you think beige is a color palette,” I managed, half laughing, half sobbing.
“Exactly.”
“The house is in both our names now,” he said softly. “I thought maybe it was time you had roots again. Not the kind that trap you, the kind that hold you steady.”
I stared at house, taking in the sparkling kitchen, then at him. “Sir, Daddy…” My voice broke. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I wanted to.”
I couldn’t stop the tears then. I stepped into him, arms around his neck, and he caught me like he’d been waiting for it all night. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered against his chest. “It’s perfect.”
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “It’s home.”
I nodded, breath shaking. “Ours.”
He leaned down and kissed me—soft, certain, tasting of snow and cocoa and something I’d never known before—forever.
The fire crackled, and the lights reflected off the ornaments I recognized, some from my childhood, some new. My mother’s angel sat proudly at the top of the tree.
I touched it gently and whispered, “We did it, Mom. We made it beautiful.”
Behind me, Felix wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
I smiled, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
And in that little house, the one that had held so much laughter, and loss, and now love, I finally felt it—peace.
The kind that comes when the past and the present stop fighting each other, and all that’s left is warmth, light, and the person you’ve been waiting your whole life to come home to.