Chapter 48
COOPER
“Joy, it’s okay,” I said, gently moving her aside. “This needs to happen.”
She grabbed at my red velvet sleeve, her eyes wide with panic. “Cooper, no. Not here. Not in front of all these families. Please.”
But I was done. Absolutely done. I’d spent a year letting Lynn dictate the narrative, letting her drama poison my reputation and now threaten Joy’s. I’d watched her spread rumors and create chaos while I stayed silent, thinking it would blow over.
It hadn’t blown over. It had gotten worse.
“This ends here,” I said firmly, standing from the Santa chair with as much dignity as a man stuffed with throw pillows could manage.
Joy positioned herself between me and Lynn, her hands pressed against my padded chest. “Cooper, please. Think about what you’re doing. You’re Santa right now. There are children watching.”
I looked down at her worried face, at the woman who’d worked so hard to make this festival perfect, who deserved better than having her reputation dragged through the mud by my vindictive ex-fiancée.
The woman I was completely in love with, who I had apparently been too much of a coward to fight for properly.
“I am thinking,” I said, my voice steady despite the fake beard muffling my words. “I’m thinking about how long I’ve let her get away with this bullshit. I’m thinking about how she’s been trying to ruin what we have before it even has a chance to get started.”
Joy sighed, clearly recognizing the fact I wasn’t going to be stopped.
“Try not to drop the F bomb at least,” she whispered.
That would be tough but I would certainly try. For the children.
I walked toward Lynn with the measured steps of a man who had finally found his balls.
The Santa suit should have made me feel ridiculous, but instead it felt like armor—a reminder that I was here for something bigger than my own fears and insecurities.
I was here for Joy and for a community that had supported me through my darkest moments.
Lynn’s artificial smile faltered slightly as I approached. She probably expected me to avoid her, to put as much distance between us as possible like I had been doing for the past few days. Instead, I was walking directly toward her.
And she knew me. I knew she knew the look in my eyes.
I was done fucking around.
“Cooper,” she said, her voice carrying that honeyed tone that had once made me weak in the knees. “Just the man I was hoping to find—”
“No,” I interrupted, keeping my voice calm but firm. The families around us were close enough to overhear, and I wanted there to be no ambiguity about what I was saying. “Whatever you’re hoping for, the answer is no.”
Lynn’s mask slipped for just a moment, revealing a flash of genuine surprise. She’d probably spent the last few days assuming that her little performance at the market had succeeded in driving Joy away from me. In a way, it did. But not anymore.
“You don’t even know why I’m here,” she protested, moving closer with that calculated grace she’d always used to manipulate situations.
I had flashbacks to the many parties we attended.
She always put her hand on my upper arm or back.
It was her way of telling me to shut up or to follow her or to do whatever it was she was demanding.
It used to work. I shrugged her hand away before she could touch me.
“I know exactly what you’re going to say,” I replied, not backing down an inch.
“You’re going to tell me that you’ve made a mistake, that you want me back, that we can work things out.
You’re going to try to convince me that what Joy and I have isn’t real, that I’m settling for less than I deserve. ”
Lynn’s expression hardened. “Maybe because it’s true. Maybe because I know you better than anyone, and I know you’re not happy—”
“You’re wrong,” I said, cutting her off again.
“You don’t know me and I am happy. For the first time in years, I’m genuinely and completely happy.
And it has nothing to do with you. What we had is over.
I don’t even know if it was ever real. I was lonely and you filled the void but we both know neither of us was truly happy. ”
I could feel the attention of nearby families, could see people beginning to notice our conversation. Good. I wanted witnesses for this.
Lynn looked uncomfortable. “You know I loved you. We just—”
“No,” I said. “There is no we. You did what you did. I’m not taking responsibility for your bad decisions. I don’t hate you. I just don’t care. I’ve moved on, like you did a long time ago.”
“Cooper, let’s go somewhere and talk. Privately.”
“I love Joy Murphy,” I said, loud enough that there could be no mistaking my words.
“I love her kindness, her strength, and her determination to make this community better. I love the way she makes me laugh and the way she challenges me to be a better man. I love her, Lynn, and that means there is no room in my life for you.”
The words felt like a weight lifting off my chest. I’d never said them out loud before.
Hell, I’d barely admitted to myself how deep my feelings for Joy had become.
But standing here in front of my ex-fiancée, wearing a Santa suit and defending the woman who’d become everything to me, the truth felt crystal clear.
Lynn’s composure cracked completely. “You can’t be serious. Joy Murphy? She’s going to leave, Cooper. She always leaves. The moment something better comes along—”
“You need to back off,” I said, my voice taking on the authoritative tone I used in emergencies. “You need to stop manipulating situations, stop trying to interfere with my life, and accept that what we had is over. Permanently. You were the one that left when something better came along.”
She rolled her eyes like I was being a dumbass for bringing up her cheating ways. “I didn’t say he was better.”
I laughed. “You didn’t have to. You’re just looking for someone to be your little puppet.
Someone that’s going to worship at your feet and give you whatever you want.
I’m not that man. Apparently your boyfriend wasn’t either.
Hop back in the dating pool and see if you can find what you’re looking for. It ain’t here.”
“Cooper, you’re making a mistake.”
“If you contact me again, if you approach Joy again, if you make any attempt to insert yourself into our lives, I will file for a restraining order,” I continued. “I’m done with your games, Lynn. I’m done with your manipulation. Find someone else to torment.”
Lynn opened her mouth to respond, her face flushed with rage and humiliation, when something cold and wet smacked her directly in the face.
A snowball. A perfectly aimed, tightly packed snowball that exploded against her cheek with a satisfying impact.
I turned to see Katrina standing about ten feet away, already packing another projectile.
“Oops,” my sister said with obviously fake innocence. “My hand slipped. I was aiming for your throat.”
Lynn sputtered, wiping snow from her face and expensive coat. “You little—”
THWACK. Another snowball, this one hitting her square in the chest.
“Gosh, I’m so clumsy tonight,” Katrina said, grinning fiercely. “Must be all this Christmas spirit in the air.”
In my opinion, Lynn was getting off easy with a few snowballs. Katrina wanted to do more.
Lynn opened her mouth again, probably to unleash the kind of verbal assault she specialized in, when more snowballs began flying from different directions. Some of the teenagers who’d been watching the confrontation had decided to join Katrina’s impromptu artillery barrage.
THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.
Snow exploded against Lynn’s coat. Her perfectly styled hair was wet and losing that high-priced sheen. Her designer boots were going to be wet and ruined any second. She spun around, trying to identify all her attackers, but more people were joining in by the second.
Parents who remembered how devastated I’d been after she left me at the altar. Vendors who’d watched her try to manipulate situations all week. Even some of the older kids who could sense the adults’ disapproval and wanted to be part of whatever justice was being served.
“This is assault!” Lynn shrieked, trying to shield herself from the barrage.
“This is Calton Hill,” someone called out. “Love it or leave it!”
Lynn looked around desperately, searching for sympathy or support, but found only hostile faces and more ammunition being prepared.
The entire crowd had turned against her with the kind of unified purpose that small towns were famous for when they decided someone had crossed the line. Plus, throwing snowballs was fun.
“You’re all crazy!” she yelled, backing toward the edge of the market grounds as snowballs continued to fly.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” someone shouted.
Lynn turned and ran, her expensive boots slipping on the snowy ground as she fled toward the parking area. A few final snowballs followed her retreat, more symbolic than accurate, until she disappeared into the darkness beyond the festival lights.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. It was the kind of celebration usually reserved for high school football victories. People were laughing, high-fiving, and generally acting like they’d just witnessed the triumph of good over evil.
Which, I supposed, they had.
I stood in the middle of it all, still wearing my Santa suit, feeling like I’d just fought a dragon and won.
The relief was overwhelming—not just because Lynn was gone but because I finally found the courage to stand up to her manipulation and choose what I wanted instead of what I thought I should want.
“So,” a familiar voice beside me, warm with amusement and something deeper. “You love me, huh?”
I turned to find Joy standing close enough that I could see the tears in her eyes, the smile that seemed to light up her entire face.
“Yeah,” I said simply. “I think I always have.”
The admission hung between us for a moment, honest and vulnerable and completely true. I’d been half in love with Joy Murphy since we were seventeen years old, and what I felt for her now was just the full flowering of something that had been growing in my heart for years.
“Good,” she said, reaching up to touch the edge of my fake beard. “Because I love you too. I love your ridiculous safety consciousness and your secret romantic soul and the way you just saved Christmas by dressing up as Santa.”
Before I could respond, she pulled me down and kissed me, right there in front of half the town, with my fake beard scratching against her face and the Santa hat falling off my head. It was messy and public and absolutely perfect.
The crowd around us cheered even louder, people whistling and applauding like we were the main entertainment of the evening. Someone started shouting “Speech! Speech!” until others took up the chant.
I pulled back from Joy’s kiss and looked around at all the faces—neighbors and friends, families and children, the community that had become my home and my anchor.
“Ho ho ho,” I said in my best Santa voice, raising my arms to acknowledge the crowd. “Looks like Christmas came early to Calton Hill this year!”
More cheers, more laughter, and then the choir began to sing “Joy to the World” with such enthusiasm that their voices carried across the entire town square. The last night of the Yuletide Festival was turning into exactly the kind of magical celebration Joy had envisioned from the beginning.
As the music swelled around us and snow began to fall in fat, lazy flakes that caught the colored lights, I pulled Joy close and marveled at how dramatically my life had changed in the space of a few weeks.
I’d found love again. Real love, the kind that made you brave enough to wear ridiculous costumes and confront your demons in public. The kind that made you want to be better, to fight harder, to choose hope over fear every single day.
And I found it with a woman who made me remember who I used to be while inspiring me to become who I wanted to be.
“Merry Christmas, Joy,” I whispered against her ear.
“Merry Christmas, Santa,” she whispered back. I could hear the laughter in her voice, the pure happiness that matched what I felt in my own heart. “Is this that costume?”
“Yep.”
“We didn’t leave it too dirty, did we?”
I laughed. “No. All good.”
“I cannot wait to take this off you.”