Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
NICK
T he cheerful ping of my phone cuts through the peaceful silence of the Kringle house. Everyone is out doing their Kringle thing, and I have a chance to wrap a few gifts.
I reach for my phone just as the screen lights up with a group text from Hazel.
Hazel: Mandatory Kringle family meeting for the Christmas Bazaar in 10 minutes. Don’t be late!
I groan inwardly, the thought of facing a room full of people – potentially including Penelope – sending a jolt of anxiety through me. Before I can formulate a response, the chat buzzes with activity.
Rye: Sorry, can’t make it. Third round of interviews today. Wish me luck!
Gail, Harvey, and Oliver quickly follow with thumbs-up emojis. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, with a sigh, I send a reluctant thumbs-down.
Almost immediately, I hear heavy footsteps approaching the back door. Oliver bursts in. “Come on, Nick,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “You can’t skip this meeting. It’s for the Bazaar. This was your baby, the catalyst for your wish magic. You should get involved—maybe you’ll get wishes back.”
I shake my head, gesturing vaguely towards the pile of gifts and wrapping paper on the coffee table. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on. Besides, I’m not sure I’m ready to face... everyone.”
Oliver’s expression softens with understanding. He takes a seat next to me on the couch, the springs creaking under his weight. As an ex-military man, his Dad took working out and building muscle seriously, still does if we’re honest. He passed that onto Oliver, who spends an hour each morning lifting. He weighs a good fifty pounds of muscle more than me, and I’m no slouch. I listen to Quik’s advice too.
“Look, I get it. We’ll sit in the back and keep a low profile. It’ll be fine.”
I look into his blue eyes, so like his father’s, and feel my resolve weakening. Oliver has always had a way of cutting through my brooding moods with his steady practicality. Even when he was a kid, he was so serious when he arrived at the North Pole that he looked like an elf who accidentally ate broccoli.
The thing is, I want to go. I want to be in the same space as Penelope. I want it so badly; it makes my skin itch and my lips dry.
I just don’t want anyone else to know that.
“Alright,” I concede with a sigh. “But we’re definitely sitting in the back.”
Oliver grins, jumping to his feet with an energy that belies his muscular build. “That’s the Grinchy spirit. Come on, we don’t want to be late, or Grandma will make us sit with her.”
As we make our way to the city planning committee’s room in an old brick building at the top of the hill. The scent of salt air mingles with the aroma of fresh-baked goods from Caldwell’s Cottage Bakery, stirring memories I’ve tried hard to suppress and don’t want to go near knowing I’ll see Penelope within minutes.
We enter the meeting room, and I spot Hazel at the front of the room, her dark, auburn hair catching the harsh fluorescent light as she arranges papers on the table. She looks up as we enter, her ice-blue eyes widening slightly in surprise before a small, pleased smile crosses her face.
Oliver and I take seats at the back, just as promised. I sink into the chair, wincing slightly at the lack of cushioning. The room begins to fill with committee members, their chatter creating a low hum of anticipation. Many of them remember me and welcome me back with a handshake.
Just as the meeting is about to start, she walks in.
Penelope .
The sight of her hits me like a Christmas tree falling over. She’s even more beautiful than I remember, her chestnut curls longer now, framing her face in soft waves. She’s dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, but she carries herself with a quiet grace that takes my breath away.
Our eyes meet across the room, much as they did the other morning when she was walking to work. I see the shock register on her face, her steps faltering slightly. But before either of us can react further, a small whirlwind of energy bursts into the room behind her.
“Nick!” Noelle’s excited voice rings out, causing every head in the room to turn.
I barely have time to brace myself before she’s barreling towards me, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her little hand.
“Look what I drew,” she exclaims, thrusting the paper into my hands.
I examine the drawing, a riot of colors and shapes that I can just make out to be a Christmas tree with two figures beside it. “This is wonderful, Noelle,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re quite the artist.”
Noelle beams at me, her smile melting my heart. Then, her gaze shifts to Oliver, curiosity replacing her excitement. “Who are you?” she asks bluntly.
Oliver chuckles. “I’m Oliver, Nick’s nephew. It’s nice to meet you, Noelle.” He holds out his hand for her to shake.
Noelle studies him for a moment before nodding decisively and shaking his hand. “I like your hair,” she declares, reaching out to pat Oliver’s short, military-style cut. “It’s prickly.”
Oliver’s booming Ho Ho Ho fills the room, and I can’t help but join in. Leave it to a child to break the tension so effortlessly.
Our laughter is interrupted by the arrival of Gail and Harvey. As if their Santa radar is on, they circle Noelle like seagulls at a beach picnic, showering her with attention and compliments.
“Nick.” Penelope’s voice, soft but firm, cuts through my thoughts.
I look up to find her standing beside me, her hazel eyes unreadable.
“Can we talk? Privately?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As I follow her out of the room and into her office, I can feel the weight of unsaid words hanging between us and every eye in the meeting, watching to see what will happen.
I still have no idea what Penelope told people about my abrupt departure, especially after I made my intentions with her and Noelle public by kissing her under the mistletoe at the Bazaar.
Penelope’s office is small but tidy, with a desk covered in neat stacks of papers and a small window overlooking the street. A child-sized desk in the corner, covered in crayons and coloring books, catches my eye. It’s so perfectly Penelope—efficient and professional, but with Noelle at the center of everything.
As Penelope turns to face me, I’m struck anew by her beauty. Her hair is longer than I remember, and my fingers twitch with the desire to tangle themselves in it. I have to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a stray curl behind her ear, as I used to do .
“What are you doing here, Nick?” Penelope asks, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of... something. Anger? Hurt? I can’t quite tell. “And I want the truth.”
I bristle at the implication that I’d ever lied to her in the first place. Did I tell her I was Santa’s adopted kid when we first met? No. Why would I? I wanted her to like me, not think I was a lunatic.
I take a deep breath. “Honestly?” I begin running a hand through my hair. Her complete attention has me sweating. “It’s complicated. Hazel’s going through a bit of self-discovery, trying to figure out her magic abilities and how she can use them ethically. Rye wanted to experience life outside of the toy factory and pursue a career in the real world. Oliver needed the space in the workshop for his inventions because the North Pole was a little unstable right now. And Gail and Harvey are considering retirement.”
I watch Penelope’s face as I speak, seeing the subtle shifts in her expression. She’s always been good at hiding her emotions, but I can see the surprise, the confusion, and something else — disappointment?—flicker across her features.
“That explains everyone else,” she says slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “But what about you? Why are you here?”
I open my mouth to respond, to say that I’m here to support my family. But as I look at Penelope, really look at her, the truth hits me with the force of a freight train.
“Because I love you,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. “I’ve always loved you, Penelope. I tried to be a Kringle, to fit in with the Christmas Magic and all that comes with it. But I never felt as at home, as much myself, as I did when I was with you.”
Penelope’s eyes widen, and I see her take an involuntary step back. “Nick,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “I... I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say? I’ve moved on. I had to.
The words sting, but I can’t quite bring myself to believe them. Not when I can see the way her hands tremble, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Without thinking, I reach out and take her hand in mine.
The moment our skin touches, I feel a jolt of electricity run through me. Penelope’s eyes widen, and I can feel the slight tremor that runs through her body. Her gaze drops to our joined hands, then back up to my face, a mixture of longing and fear in her eyes.
“Have you, Penelope?” I ask softly, my thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. “Have you really forgotten me?”
For a moment, we stand there in silence, the air between us charged. I can hear the muffled sounds of the meeting starting in the other room, but it feels a million miles away. Right now, my entire world has narrowed down to this small office, to Penelope’s hand in mine, to the way she’s looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
“I...” Penelope begins, but her voice trails off. She swallows hard.
I hold my breath as the moment stretches out in front of me.