Page 136 of Not Your Average Vixen
He stared down at the photos. “As much as I wished it were true, I don’t think that there will be a next time with her. And more than that, I don’t deserve her.”
“What kind of person deserves her, Scooter?” the judge asked.
Soren sat back and pictured the life he wanted for the woman he loved.
A sad smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “A man who puts her first. A man who sees how lucky he is to have her every day of his life. A man devoid of selfishness and greed. A man capable of keeping a promise,” he answered, tracing his finger over the image of their photo booth kiss.
The judge patted his leg. “How about a man who grew up without love but found it through friendship and an adopted family? How about a man who desperately needs to give himself a gift?”
Soren released a sad little chuckle. “Judge, I have more money than God. What gift do I need to give to myself?”
“Trust,” the man replied.
The word hung in the air.
“Trust?” he questioned. What could he mean by that?
“The gift of trusting yourself not to be like your parents. The gift of taking a leap and promising to protect another’s heart. The gift of trusting in the goodness of your own heart,” the man answered.
Trust. That was it. He’d trusted himself with the Abbotts because he believed that they had made him good. And in that slice of his life, up until completely jacking up Tom’s wedding, he had been good, loyal, and trustworthy. The qualities he’d learned from the people who called him Scooter. Still, a thread of doubt wove its way through his heart.
“But what if I fail, Judge?”
The man he’d known since he was fourteen held his gaze. “What if you don’t?”
What if you don’t?
Like the Grinch himself, his heart swelled with love. He had two promises to make. Two promises he’d spend his life honoring.
“Now, if you still want to go to the airport, Scooter, I’ll call you a cab. It’s your decision to make,” the judge said.
Soren stared at the picture of Bridget. “There’s somewhere I need to go. But it’s not the airport,” he replied, voice brimming with conviction. He pressed the photo to his heart and closed his eyes as a sense of peace washed over him. But he wasn’t expecting for something to poke him in the chest.
He unzipped his coat. Yes, he’d passed out wearing his jacket. It happens when drinking with ex Santas. But when he reached into his breast pocket, he couldn’t believe what he’d found.
A black velvet pouch.
“The rings! Judge, I forgot I had them in here. Tom gave them to me the day Bridget and I arrived at Kringle Mountain and…” He glanced at the clock. They still had a little time before the Christmas Eve wedding festivities would start. “And you, Judge! We have to get you back to the mountain house. You’re the one who’s supposed to officiate the wedding. We have to go!”
With determination flooding his system, he rose to his feet.
“I’m putting it all on the line! It’s time to take the leap. Whether I’m forgiven or not, I need to get to Kringle Mountain and speak my peace. I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle,” he said, a man on the verge of redemption.
The North Pole contingent clapped and cheered as Judge Lawrence Duncan tossed him a little wink.
“Go get ’em, Soren Christopher Traeger Rudolph!”
“Excuse me, but I don’t think anyone is going anywhere. Have you looked outside?” another Santa-looking man said, cutting short the celebration as he pulled off a snow-covered cap and propped a snow shovel against the wall.
Soren stared at the man. “What do you mean?”
“The roads are treacherous. They even closed the highway. Not to mention, it looks like Kringle Mountain has lost power,” the man added, stomping the snow off his boots.
“But we have to get to the Kringle Mountain House. I’ve got a wedding to save, and I need to tell Bridget that I love her.”
“Sit tight, young fella. They usually get the power back in a day or two. Dan and Delores know what to do. They’ve got a generator and are always stocked up this time of year.”
“What about the gondola to get to the Kringle Chapel,” he pressed.
