Chapter 18
Two Days Before Christmas
Me:
He kissed me.
Piper:
I just dropped my Christmas cookie on the floor and I’m not even mad about it. Tell me everything.
There was mistletoe.
I’m buying you a dictionary for Christmas, so you can understand the full definition of the word “everything.”
Fine. There was mistletoe and he tasted like peppermint and coffee and I don’t think the man has ever skipped arm day and for a moment there really was peace on earth. There. Is that better?
Much.
But there was mistletoe.
You said that already.
Because I don’t know what it means.
Back to the dictionary. Mistletoe means you kiss when you stand under—oh. Oh.
Yeah…exactly. Was it real?
1 minute later
You’re eating that cookie off the floor, aren’t you?
Even when hating Christmas, I can’t bring myself to hate Christmas food.
I snagged another cinnamon-sugar pecan as we strolled through the red-and-white-striped gate in front of the mall’s biggest department store.
I definitely required sustenance to survive this outing.
Mason and Janie had finally gotten their wish—we’d all loaded up an hour ago to hit the mall when it opened.
Shoppers in bulky coats and teenagers in low-rise jeans strode past us, while mothers posed tired toddlers in front of the Charlie Brown tree photo op. Fathers gathered in bunches, sipping coffee and sharing golf scores as the line to see Santa grew.
“Wow.” Nick let out a low whistle as he took it all in. “Is this Santa’s actual workshop?”
“Point Bluff Mall doesn’t play.” I gestured my arm like a game show host around the village that had transformed a third of the mall into a winter wonderland. “I grew up coming here as a kid. Until…”
“Until you stopped liking Christmas?” Nick peered up at the ceiling, where a giant inflatable guitar, rocking horse, teddy bear, and other classic toys hung from strings.
But I couldn’t look away from him. Nick looked incredibly appealing today in a gray long-sleeve tee, open jacket, and dark jeans. Dimple on full blast. Totally calm and casual, like it was just another day—not the day after we’d shared an incredible kiss that had yet to be discussed.
“Let’s just say I outgrew it.” I forced my stare away from the beard he’d trimmed, leaving only a scruffy shadow along his jaw that I really wanted to touch.
But if Nick wasn’t going to talk about last night, I sure wasn’t going to bring it up.
I would just assume it had been part of Operation: Jack & Sally.
If that’s all it was to him, that’s all it was to me.
Even if I wanted to skip to the front of the line and ask Santa for one more kiss from Nick before New Year’s.
“Outgrew Santa?”
“Well, yeah. I think the last time we came I was about fifteen.” I did quick math. “Which made Kat ten and Chloe five.”
Nick winced. “I bet that was interesting.”
“That’s one way to put it.” I shot a glance up the decorated corridor, where the rest of my family stood several paces ahead. “Not sure if Santa is ready for us. Our track record isn’t exactly great.”
“What happened?” Nick dug a pecan from my cellophane bag and popped it in his mouth. “Wait. Is sharing food on the list of approved Operation: Jack & Sally activities?” He winked.
I gave him a pointed look. “You do realize that the stand where I got these sells more?”
“Great. When we run out, I’ll buy another one.” Nick scooped out another handful, his grin impish and adorable and…goodness, had someone cranked up the heater? “So tell me. What did Chloe do? Or wait—I bet it was Kat.”
“It was both of them. Fist fighting.”
“ What? ” Nick coughed on a pecan. His eyes watered and he choked back a laugh. “How does a five-year-old get into a physical fight?”
“She’s always been scrappy. And Kat, well.
Kat has always been Kat.” I lowered my voice as we inched closer to where my family stood in the throes of the line.
Axel had conned an elf into letting him wear one of their pointed hats, and he proudly danced a jig in the jingling green cap.
Chloe videoed him, laughing, while Lydia tried to distract Ryan away from the scene with a store display of sports gear.
Nick wiped his eyes, still watering from his coughing fit, and chuckled. “Wow. I’ve got to hear more about that fight.”
“We got kicked out.” I grimaced. “I don’t think we ever tried to come back. All of us kids kind of knew not to ask.”
“Should I play lookout, then? Are we going to get booted?” Nick glanced over his shoulder at the uniformed mall cop, who posed on a Segway nearby, looking more bored than out to get anyone—especially us Sinclairs.
“I highly doubt it.” I ate another pecan before Nick could. “Looks like we’re stuck with this fun-filled Christmas experience today.”
“You’ve got to admit, it is pretty fun to see the kids excited.
” He gestured toward Janie, who was bouncing up and down in line behind Kat, who stood with one hand rubbing the middle of her back as she whispered with Olivia.
Both kept a close eye on Mom, who was sharing a bag of nuts with Dad. Keeping her fed—good idea.
Dad saw me watching and shot me a subtle thumbs-up over his shoulder.
I grinned, then did a double take. Nick was returning his thumbs-up. I frowned. “What was that with you and my—”
“Look! There’s Santa!” Janie squealed and pointed up the line of kids where a very realistic Santa, with a fancy long white beard and natural-looking belly, took his perch on a golden chair. The crowd cheered.
Mason sucked in his breath as he stood on tiptoe. “That’s him!”
It was pretty magical, especially through the eyes of a child.
I knelt and attempted to see it all from Mason’s point of view.
Red velvet ropes with dangling hand-cut snowflakes, each labeled with a different kid to sponsor for Christmas, separated Santa’s elves from the crowd of children eager to whisper their holiday wish to the big guy.
A small train glided by on a portable track around a giant gingerbread house trimmed with plastic candy, before detouring past Santa’s chair and wrapping around a decorated tree that stood so tall, the pointed star skimmed the skylights of the ceiling.
For a moment, I could feel it. The excitement. The joy. The wonder.
Mason bounced like Janie before he caught himself. He puffed his chest out a little instead. “Uncle Nick, do you see him? Do you see Santa?”
Uncle Nick?
Nick shot me a cautious look before giving Mason a fist bump. “Sure do, kiddo.”
Janie popped her thumb in her mouth, which was immediately swatted away by Olivia. Unfazed, Janie met my gaze and grinned. “I’m asking for the doll.”
Mason elbowed his sister, his eyes laser-focused as his voice dropped to a panicked hiss. “Remember what else we’re asking for.” Then he straightened quickly and turned to face the front.
Hmm. Looked like someone else in the family had a secret. I angled away from the kids and leaned in toward Nick. “Are you okay with him calling you that?”
“I’m fine with it. Mason’s great.” Nick winced. “But I kind of wonder what that’s gonna mean after…you know. After the holidays.”
Meaning, of course, when Nick didn’t come back for the next family gathering.
“Right.” My stomach clenched and I drew in a tight breath.
I hadn’t thought this through—as Piper would be quick to remind me.
Revenge on Ryan had been so at the forefront, I hadn’t prepared for the consequences of the truth emerging later.
Of course, I fully planned to fess up to the family at some point—it wasn’t like I intended to stage a fake breakup after New Year’s. That always backfired in the movies.
But I hadn’t anticipated the kids getting swept up in my game. What if they’d seen us kiss? I didn’t want Mason thinking Nick was going to be around forever.
Not to mention my own heart was going to need time to process that.
I pressed my fingertips to my suddenly flaming cheeks. “Should we scale it back a little?”
“What do you mean?” Nick matched my whisper.
“Revisit our rules of engagement.” I couldn’t say the K -word. I just couldn’t. Nick probably couldn’t either, which is why we hadn’t discussed it yet—
“Kissing?” Nick raised an eyebrow.
Okay, so he could say it. But I definitely couldn’t ask him if our kiss had affected him the way it had me. It didn’t seem to, gauging by his casual attitude now.
Maybe he’d simply taken the operation to the next level.
I could ask him. I squinted. But if his answer was yes, that’s all it was to him, and I let on that it was more for me…I swallowed.
Somewhere in the line, a baby cried. I felt that. My fears made sense…Ryan had walked out during the kiss. Nick could have easily seen him coming from his vantage point and initiated the whole mistletoe thing simply to get caught.
I needed to get a grip—namely, stop staring at Nick’s dimple—and face the facts.
Last night was all part of the game.
I squared my shoulders as we shuffled forward in line, fighting to keep a casual tone. “Yeah, probably shouldn’t. I mean, if that’s okay.” If he wanted to kiss me again, he’d say so.
Right?
“Yeah, yeah. Totally okay.” Nick waved one hand in the air, then absently brushed it over the top of his hair. “Whatever you want.”
“So…no more kissing.” I had to say the K -word to hopefully strip it of some of its power. But then Nick’s gaze met mine, and last night—the scent of his woodsy cologne, the feel of his hand cupping my neck, the way our sweaters traded glitter—flooded back in Technicolor. Okay, so that didn’t work.
Nick nodded his confirmation. “No more kissing.”
Did he look disappointed, or was that wishful thinking on my part?
We moved ahead in line before I could decide. It was almost Janie’s turn, and Mason nudged her again in reminder before an elf assisted her toward Santa.
Olivia snapped pictures on her phone. “She’s going to ask for that doll, isn’t she?”