Prologue
Crystal
Once upon a time, a man in a Santa suit poofed himself into my apartment, magically upended me over his knee and started blathering on about how Mrs. Claus can’t be on the naughty list, and worse than that, Mrs. Claus cannot, absolutely must not be an unbeliever.
And like any sane twenty-something who found herself going from drinking a glass of wine and cuddling her yappy dog while watching a TV show, to that position in a blink of an eye, would, I called the cops. In any other timeline, that would have been the end of the story.
Instead, the man—who turned out to be Santa, for real—charmed the cops into leaving and announced that he had two weeks to turn me into a believer and make me his Mrs. Claus.
It only took him nine days. Call it Christmas magic.
It took another day for us to fully move from my modest apartment in Las Vegas and settle into our mini mansion in the majestic, snow-covered North Pole and two days for me and Mama Claus to plan a wedding only a little girl could ever dream of.
We’d gotten married on December 23rd, surrounded by snow and glitter and happy singing elves, right there at the North Pole.
It had been beautiful and even though my only guest was my work bestie, Marcus, it felt like I’d finally found my forever family.
My true place in life. Who would have thought that the biggest Scrooge that ever lived would one day fully embrace her role as the future Mrs. Claus? Not me, that was for sure.
Settling into life at the North Pole was easier said than done.
It was cold, really freaking cold, so going out was a whole affair and it was easy to feel a little stir-crazy without much to occupy my time.
The excitement of not having to work wore off pretty quickly and I found myself often wishing for my old life.
At least aspects of it. The different freedoms of it, for sure.
Sure, Yule said he could take me back to the city whenever I wanted, but I don’t think either of us realized what it was going to take for him to fully integrate to his role as Santa over the span of the year.
He would leave after breakfast and usually not get home until dinner although he did surprise me around lunch time on occasion.
As lonely as I was, I was never even really alone. Helpers came in and out all day to do this or that or even just to spend time with me. It was nice and I really appreciated them all, but I found myself getting increasingly frustrated and antsy.
And getting antsy in the North Pole led to a lot more trouble than anyone could have ever expected.