29. Charlie
Iget why everyone loves Christmas.
And so do I, don’t get me wrong.
But to me, there’s something more special about Christmas Eve.
There’s the excitement and anticipation. The wonder if you were in fact good all year, and if Santa was going to visit.
But for me, it’s more than that. This is the day I remember the most from my childhood. Every Christmas Eve, Mom would take Connor and I to our version of Mona’s. She’d let us order whatever we wanted before we’d go home and make cookies until we were out of icing and sprinkles.
It was the best day of the year.
Which is why I insisted on being open today, even if it was just for breakfast.
“You’re serving today?”
I turn to see my favorite property manager, Emmett, walking through the doors. And I know I’m with Simon. And I love that man more than I thought possible, but you’d have to be blind to not appreciate the hunk of a man Emmett Collins is.
“Skeleton crew for the holiday. Plus, I like to be on this side every once in a while.” I grab a mug and pour him his coffee. “And what are you doing here? I figured this would be the Tuesday you’d take off.”
He shakes his head. “Today is the last day for the crew before we close down until the New Year. So this is going to be the last time I head this way for a while. And you know I can’t go that long without your waffles.”
I shake my head at Emmett’s compliment, taking his ticket to the window. I never had to deal with a property manager before, but I’d have to assume that Emmett is one of the more hands-on ones in the business. He comes in every Tuesday, like clockwork, to check on me. He’s also checking in on the construction next door, which has been going since I took over this space. I have no clue what’s going in there; I just know they’ve been gutting it to the studs.
But hey, they come in for lunch every day, so I’m not complaining.
“So anything special going on for the holiday?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ll go home to Kentucky for Christmas. I have the rest of the year off, so I’ll probably relax there before I come back. Though I’ll want to avoid Nashville for New Year’s. It’s a shit show.”
An idea comes to me, and it might be the best idea I’ve had in a while. “If you want to do something for New Year’s, why don’t you come to our gender reveal?”
Emmett nearly chokes on his coffee at the sound of my suggestion. “Oh…um…I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“Don’t be silly.” Why is he acting weird about this? “Simon insisted on having a blow out, and New Year’s was the perfect time to have it. There will be plenty of food and an open bar. Plus, you can meet some Rolling Hills people and we can maybe convince you to move here. Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone to kiss at midnight.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
His quick tone takes me aback. “Okay then…just thought I’d offer.”
I watch as his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Charlie. That was rude of me. I’m just not a big New Years guy.”
“Oh, well that makes sense.” And because my pregnancy brain is all over the place, the talk of the new year reminds me of something. “Oh! Wait here, I need to get my rent check for next month.”
I head back to my office and hurriedly write my monthly rent check. Yes I know it’s old school. Yes, I know, I could just transfer my rent through my bank. But I like it this way. It works for me and that’s all that matters.
When I come back out to the dining room, with Emmett’s food in hand, I notice he’s furiously typing something on his phone.
“Here we go, one rent check and one plate of waffles. Oh, and can you see why my October check wasn’t cashed?”
His head snaps up. “What was that?”
“My October rent check. I was doing my books the other day and I noticed it wasn’t cashed, which I thought was weird. I meant to text you about it, but preggo brain got in the way. Can you make sure everything is okay?”
“Oh, I will.” I don’t know why I find his tone weird, but it is. It’s like he’s pissed about it.
This man is just confusing the hell out of me today.
His phone vibrates on the counter, and I watch as he mumbles a few choice words before taking a huge bite of his waffles.
“Charlie? Can I get my bill? I have to go.”
“Oh, okay.” I don’t know why the sudden need for Emmett to leave takes me off guard. “Want me to box this up for you?”
“No, thanks. Maybe a to-go cup?”
“You got it.”
Sensing Emmett is in a hurry, I quickly pour his complimentary cup of coffee. He still insists on paying for his food, but he’s started to accept the free cup of Joe each time he comes in.
He barely says goodbye as he throws too much money on the counter and hurries out the door. I normally wouldn’t watch Emmett leave, but I can’t help but notice that he goes from a near sprint to a dead stop as soon as the door swings open.
In his defense, everyone stops and stares as Santa comes strutting through the door.
Wait, why is Santa here? I didn’t order a Santa.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!”
Oh, that makes much more sense.
The packed diner turns to watch as the Santa I’m stuck with for the rest of my life struts in. “I heard this is where all the good boys and girls eat. And Santa needs to fuel up before his big night!”
I don’t know whether to laugh, roll my eyes, or hide in the back as Santa—a.k.a. the father of my child—walks through the diner, saying hello to every customer.
And is he passing out presents?
“Order up!”
I turn away from Santa Simon, who is being tackled by the few kids that are in here this morning, as I go and deliver three plates to my three favorite customers.
“Is that Simon, dear?”
The question comes from Penny, the ringleader of the trio who comes in every Tuesday. Each week they sit at the same table, order the same three dishes, and split them between themselves so they can have a little of everything. Then they sit here for hours and play a weird dice game I’ve yet to figure out.
And I tried. I spent an entire day trying to learn.
So even though it’s Christmas Eve, it’s still Tuesday, and my Dice Gals are here and waiting for their breakfast.
“It is. But please don’t ask me where he got the Santa suit. I did not see that in the closet this morning.”
The three laugh as they start divvying up their breakfast.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Penny says. “I’ve known him since he was a boy. I remember when his family first moved to Rolling Hills. Stole the show every chance he got.”
I look over to Simon, who is now letting the children sit on his lap as he asks them what they want for Christmas. I take a step back and put my hands on my stomach out of habit, as I watch Simon take such care and interest into what each child says. I don’t know what he’s saying now, but the little girl on his lap is giggling so hard she might fall off his lap.
He’s going to be the best father. I just know it. He’s made mention on numerous occasions that he never thought he had it in him. I now see that wasn’t even close to being true.
This man was made to be a father. A girl dad if I ever saw one.
I slowly make my way to the impromptu Santa station as a little boy hops off his lap.
“Oh, boys and girls! Santa has a very important visitor!”
I smile and wave. “Did you all get to see Santa?”
The host of children eagerly nod their heads.
“Well, if you want him to come to your houses tonight and bring you all those presents he promised, then what do we need to make sure we have?”
They all yell in unison. “Cookies!”
“That’s right. Now, how about I go back in the kitchen and see if we have any that you all can take home? Santa? Want to help me?”
“I’d love to! Ho, ho ho!”
I laugh under my breath as Simon waves to the kids before following me back into the kitchen. “Mellie, do we have some extra cookies I can send home with kids for Santa?”
“Of course! Oh! I should make some fresh sugar cookies. They can be in the shape of Santa.”
“That sounds delicious,” Simon says.
I look over to him with a raised brow. “You know you’re actually not going to be the one eating these cookies, right?”
He looks disappointed.
I shake my head at the ridiculousness of Simon. “Can you take them to the kids?”
“Of course.” Mellie claps her hands as she gets back to baking. “This is my favorite holiday.”
I heard through the grapevine that a famous actress known for holiday movies lives in Rolling Hills. Maybe she can come into the diner and base a character off Mellie, who I swear would be the perfect Mrs. Clause if she was thirty-three, bubbly, and lived for baking Christmas cookies.
I signal for Simon to follow me back to the office, where I shut the door and double check that the blinds are closed.
“Oh my,” he says in his Santa voice. “Does someone have a present for Santa?”
Simon’s eyebrows start waggling but I shake my head. “Not that kind of present.”
“Dammit.”
I laugh as I take the small gift I got for him out of my desk drawer. I didn’t plan on giving this to him here, but it feels right.
“What’s this?”
“A present.”
“We said no gifts.”
“I know,” I shrug. “But I knew you weren’t going to stick to that rule, so I didn’t either.”
He pulls me in by my waist and gives me a firm kiss. “You know me so well.”
Shopping for Simon Banks might be the hardest thing to do on Earth. The man has everything. Or if he doesn’t, he has the money to buy it.
And I think I nailed it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous for him to open it.
I expected Simon to be a rip the paper open with his teeth kind of guy. But surprisingly, he’s not. He’s taking his time, making sure not to rip the paper. Almost as if it’s part of the present.
The man is a conundrum, to say the least…
I watch his face as he opens the present. It goes from curiosity, to shock, to awe, back to a look of utter surprise. Who knew that my present would be getting to watch him unwrap his?
“Bug…When? Was this?—”
I smile as he looks deeper into the picture frame that has a spot for two pictures—one is from the night we found out Bug was a girl. The second was from our one “not date” in college.
“I didn’t think there was a picture of us,” he says, his voice filled with wonder and curiosity.
“This is the only one,” I say. “From the crappy disposable camera I had on WrestleMania night.”
He thinks about it for a second before I see the lightbulb come on. “Holy shit! I made you take it!”
There we were, sitting at the local sports bar on the date that wasn’t a date. I was looking for something in my purse when I took the camera out. I don’t even remember why I had it. Either way, Simon got a hold of it and took a few of himself, before making a stranger take one of him and me.
“I didn’t even get it developed until that summer,” I say. “And I almost threw it away.”
“But you didn’t,” he says, his genuine smile from earlier now replaced with the cocky one.
“I didn’t.”
Simon reaches for me, his hand behind my head, as he pulls me in for a passionate, yet too short for my liking, kiss. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
Perfect. I didn’t think that word was possible for anything. Nothing could be perfect.
I was wrong. So wrong.
“So how long do you have that Santa suit?” I ask.
A flicker of confusion runs through his eyes before his whole face lights up. “It’s Oliver’s. I’ll buy it from him if necessary.”
“Good,” I say. “Merry Christmas to me…”