Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
NICK
B eside me, Noelle bounces on her toes, her eyes wide with excitement as she takes in the Christmas Bazaar. Her curls, so much like Penelope’s, peek out from beneath a bright red bobble hat. The child-sized pea coat in cream with red buttons fits her perfectly, and the matching red boots with cream fur are, in Penelope’s words, “impractically adorable.” She looks like a Kringle kid who spent the afternoon with Frost. Frost sent this outfit down because, in her words, “little girls’ clothes are irresistible.”
“Can we go see the reindeer?” Noelle asks, tugging on my hand. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself nodding before I even realize it.
“Sure thing, ice princess,” I say, using the nickname that’s become second nature. “Let’s go check them out.”
As we make our way through the crowd, I catch glimpses of Penelope darting from stall to stall, clipboard in hand. She’s in her element, ensuring everything runs smoothly. Even in the midst of her busy schedule, she manages to look breathtakingly beautiful. I’m done worrying about everything else in the world. I went home, turned off the television, and told Oliver to chuck the machine because I was in love, and I didn’t care what Christmas Magic had to say about it.
He tried to say something, but I stopped him by holding up my hand. “I don’t want to know.”
He sulked out to the barn, but I haven’t seen him since. I feel bad that I rained on his science parade, but after kissing Penelope and holding her again, I’m over the stress.
We approach the reindeer enclosure, and I can’t help but chuckle at the eager expressions on the faces of the children gathered around. If only they knew that these weren’t the only reindeer in town—or the most magical. There are two very light-footed reindeer in the barn behind the house who are a little put out that they aren’t the stars of the show today.
These two are not part of the North Pole team; they’re on loan from Reindeer Wrangler Ranch. Harvey and Gail flew a sleigh out there and drove them back in a trailer and a pickup truck. I’m sure that was a sight to see for many a child on the freeway: Santa pulling a stock trailer with two fully grown reindeer inside.
They’re still impressive animals. I recognize them as Nutmeg and Cinnamon, if I remember correctly.
Nutmeg, the larger of the two, has a mischievous glint in her eye. She’s known for sneaking treats from unsuspecting visitors to the ranch and has a particular fondness for peppermint candies. Gail is on duty and has told Nutmeg she’ll be off all sweets for a whole month if she misbehaves while she’s here.
Cinnamon, on the other hand, is more laid-back. He stands calmly, nuzzling children’s hands as they reach out to pet him. His large lips grab at their sleeves and illicit giggles.
As we approach, Nutmeg’s ears perk up. She eyes Noelle’s candy cane with obvious interest, and I have to stifle a laugh. “Watch your candy, ice princess,” I warn playfully. “Nutmeg there has a sweet tooth.”
Noelle giggles, clutching her candy cane closer. “She can’t have mine,” she declares. “But maybe we can get her one of her own?”
“That’s really sweet of you. Let’s wait until the other kids are gone so they don’t get any ideas about feeding her. We don’t want her to have a stomach ache this close to Christmas.”
Noelle nods as if that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever said. In her life, it might be. This is why I love spending time with her; she lets me look at the world in a whole new way.
Harvey and Gail, dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus, greet the children with warm smiles, hugs, and Ho Ho Hos. My heart swells with affection for my adoptive parents. They’ve always embodied the spirit of Christmas, even when they’re not officially on duty.
“Look, Noelle,” I say, pointing them out. “There’s Santa and Mrs. Claus. Should we go say hello? ”
Noelle lifts on her tiptoes. “I know them!” Her face lights up.
“Ho Ho Ho!” Harvey booms, his voice jolly and welcoming. “Merry Christmas, Noelle.”
“Merry Christmas!” she yells as she throws her arms around them.
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” Gail coos. She glances up at me, a knowing look in her eye. “And I see you’ve brought a very special friend with you.”
Noelle beams at me, and I’m struck once again by how much she means to me.
“Say,” Harvey interjects, “would you two like a picture?”
Noelle nods eagerly, but then her face falls slightly. “Can my mommy be in it too?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, scanning the crowd for Penelope. I spot her near the hot chocolate stand, deep in conversation with a vendor. “Let’s go get her. We’ll be right back,” I tell Gail and Harvey.
We make our way through the bustling Bazaar, the sounds of Christmas carols and cheerful chatter filling the air. As we approach Penelope, I can’t help but admire the way she carries herself—confident, capable, and utterly enchanting.
“Mamma!” Noelle calls out, breaking free from my hand to run to Penelope.
Penelope turns, her face lighting up at the sight of her daughter. She scoops Noelle up into a hug, and I lose myself in the beauty of the two of them together.
“Hey there, sweetpea,” Penelope says, pressing a kiss to Noelle’s cheek. She looks up at me, a soft smile on her wonderful lips. “Having fun with Nick?”
I nod, suddenly feeling a bit tongue-tied. “We, uh, we were wondering if you’d like to join us for a photo with Santa and Mrs. Claus,” I manage to say. I don’t know why I’m nervous about this. It’s not like she doesn’t know who they are or who I am. It’s probably because the last time I—nope! Not going there. I’m moving forward and not looking back.
“I suppose I could take a quick break,” she says, her tone playful. “Lead the way.”
As we head back to the photo booth, I feel Penelope’s hand brush against mine. Without thinking, I intertwine our fingers, relishing the warmth of her touch. She doesn’t pull away, and I feel a surge of happiness rush through me like a tidal wave. We said we were doing this—that we were back on as a couple, but for her to openly acknowledge it is huge for me.
We pose for the photo—Noelle perched on Harvey’s lap, Penelope and I standing on either side, with Gail completing the picture. The photographer counts down, and just as he’s about to take the shot, I feel Penelope lean into me slightly. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes.
As we step away from the booth, I spot Hazel making her way towards us. She keeps her eyes on the floor as she walks. When she reaches us, she crouches down to Noelle’s level. “Hey there, Noelle. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for some hot cocoa. I hear they have marshmallows as big as your fist.” Children are easier for Hazel to connect to—I think it’s part of the Santa magic in the Kringle DNA.
Noelle’s eyes light up, and she looks to Penelope for permission. Penelope nods, a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you.”
As Hazel and Noelle hurry off towards the hot cocoa stand, I turn to Penelope. She’s about to walk away, likely to return to her duties, but I can’t let her go just yet. I gently tug on her hand, spinning her back towards me. Before she can react, I lean in and press a quick, soft kiss to her lips.
“I couldn’t let you go without a kiss,” I murmur as I pull away, my heart racing.
Penelope blinks, surprise evident on her face, but then she smiles up at me. “I don’t mind,” she says softly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gail and Harvey beaming at us. I don’t care. Let them watch.
Gail brushes off her palms, a satisfied look on her face. “That should take care of things at the North Pole,” she says, her voice low enough that only Harvey and I can hear.
Her words bring me crashing back to reality. The North Pole. Christmas Magic. The life I’ve been living and the responsibilities I’ve shouldered. I take a deep breath, knowing what I have to do.
“About that,” I say, my voice serious. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’m not coming back to the North Pole.”
Harvey’s eyes widen in shock. “What? Why not?” he asks, clearly aghast .
I glance at Penelope, who’s watching our interaction with curiosity. “Penelope's and Noelle’s lives are here,” I explain. “I can’t take that all away from them, and I’d rather be with them here than alone up there.”
Gail and Harvey exchange a concerned look. “If you’re sure,” Gail says slowly.
Harvey strokes his beard. “I don’t know how that will play out. We’ve always welcomed newcomers to the North Pole. No one ever stays behind. Not even Quik, who was a fake husband at the time.”
I do a double-take. “A fake, what now?” I ask.
Gail bats my question away. “They were really married but only did it for,” her eyes dart to Penelope, “Let’s just say they got married for professional reasons. it didn’t take long for them to realize they were madly in love, so it all worked out just fine.” She steps forward and pulls me into a tight hug. “We support you no matter what happens,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
As we pull apart, I notice Rye and Oliver approaching. Rye is dressed in a sharp suit. He did not have that on when he left the house this morning and the sight of him looking like a billionaire mogul is a bit off-putting. Where’s the Christmas tie?
“You look nice,” Gail comments, brushing a piece of lint off his lapel.
Rye straightens his tie, a proud smile on his face. “Thanks, Grandma. I’ve been moved into upper management and needed to look the part.”
Oliver, however, looks far less pleased. He shakes his head; frustration is evident in his voice. “We’re facing a catastrophe, and you’re worried about your tie matching your socks!” he exclaims. Then he turns to me, his expression grave. “Nick, what just happened?”
I furrow my brow, confused by his urgency. “What do you mean?” I ask. Penelope tucks herself into my side.
“I mean, the North Pole just bounced over two feet in the air,” Oliver explains, his voice tight with worry. “What did you do?”
Gail and Harvey exchange alarmed looks before excusing themselves to make calls back to the North Pole. With Christmas just days away, this kind of disturbance could be disastrous.
I rack my brain, trying to think of what could have caused such a reaction. “Nothing,” I say finally. “I didn’t do anything. Penelope and I are in a good space. We’re getting used to being together again, but we’re there.”
I glance down at her, and she nods once. “We’re good.”
Oliver grunts, typing furiously on the laptop he’s balancing on his left forearm. “Maybe she isn’t your true love,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
“That isn’t possible,” I deny vehemently. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
Penelope gasps. I look down at her, realizing I just declared that I love her—again. “Uh. I should have told you that first. Sorry.” I cringe.
She laughs. “Do you do anything normal?”
“Not if I can help it,” I tease back.
Oliver taps me on the arm. “You haven’t met all the women in the world,” Oliver points out, his tone maddeningly logical. “Therefore, it’s possible that you could love one of them.” He leans around me and says to Noelle. “Not to ruin the moment.
She blinks in surprise.
She’ll have to get used to Oliver some other time. I’ll make sure I tell her about the algorithm he’s working on. “Even if that were the case, we don’t have time for me to meet all the women in the world and fall in love with one of them before Christmas,” I argue.
“He’s right,” Harvey throws in as he tucks his phone in his pocket. “We have to find a solution to the problem before then.”
Oliver continues to mutter to himself as he walks away, leaving me standing there, a knot of worry forming in my stomach.
I don’t want to cause any problems for my family, but the thought of giving up Penelope is unbearable. Her phone beeps. She glances at it and then up at me. “I have to take care of something. Are we good?”
I know she’s asking if I’m still committed to us, even if Oliver is trying to get me to try speed-dating every eligible woman on the planet before Christmas Eve.
“We’re better than good.” I kiss the top of her nose.
As I watch her across the Bazaar, I’m more certain than ever that this is where I belong. I’m also aware that she hasn’t said she loves me back. She might be my true love, but what if I’m not hers?
The cheerful Christmas carols, the twinkling lights, the excited chatter of children seem distant and muffled as I grapple with the weight of my decision and its unforeseen consequences. I look at the happy faces of children all around me and I ache at the thought that I would be the reason they wouldn’t get presents this year.
The hope that they would lose. . .
The anger that would swell across the world . . .
The disappointment. . .
The heartache. For some children, Santa is the only good thing in their life. How can I take that away from them?