Page 9 of Make You Mine This Christmas
The same is true of kids today, except some of these kids have a self-awareness and selflessness I didn’t possess at their age. Alongside wishes for scooters and game systems are requests for new jobs for Mom or less time on the road for Dad. Brody’s so good with them all, no difference in his reaction or expression if the kid’s acting their age or displaying an emotional maturity far beyond their years. What is different is how he prompts those who ask for something outside of themselves to dig deep for a toy or game they want, too. And the way their eyes shine when Santa sees right to the heart of them is priceless.
Once again, I find myself reflecting on what a natural Brody is at this. He’s patient and kind and gives his full attention to every child. This Brody is nothing like the paralegal destined for a prestigious law school and a long career in corporate law I knew. Or at least thought I did. I never thought the Brody I knew would abandon everything we planned together either. What else did I get wrong back then?
Finally, the door closes behind the last family arguing about whether it’s too late to grab a cup of hot chocolate for the road.
Everyone starts to wrap things up for the night, moving with a speed indicating how much these folks need a day off. I, only on day three, instead wonder if I can force myself to wake up in time to do some food deliveries before Cole and I take the girls for a Christmas present related photo shoot. When I asked why he didn’t bring the girls to the festival to see Santa, Cole let me know with a straight face Blaire would kill him if he took the girls to see Santa for the first time without her. A department store photo studio is a safe choice for the calendar gift he has in mind—twelve months of Christmas-themed photos.
Brody approaches me, the same pensive look on his face he had before we started, stopping all my schedule calculations. If the last eight hours of interacting with children didn’t make him forget his question, it may be better to get it over with.
“I’m surprised you took the job.”
Not a question after all. Whatever I expected him to say, it’s not that.
“Why? I told you. Blaire needed my help and I needed the work.”
“Well, because of me,” he continues, not looking convinced.
“Oh, you? You being here doesn’t bother me. I’m?—”
“You’re over it. I heard.” Brody, still in full Santa gear, looks like someone took Rudolph out back and shot him. I don’t want to tell him the truth—I’m not sure I’ll ever be over it. But I do want to make the distraught look on his face go away.
“So, how does Santa spend a day off away from the North Pole?”
Brody recovers quickly. “There are a few things I need to get—I came up here so suddenly I left some essentials behind.” He looks down at his phone and sighs. “And looks like all the cars are busy. Wanted to go tonight, but I guess not. If I wait too much longer, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“I’ll take you.” The words leave my mouth before I can process having formed them.
“You’ll take me?”
“You really need to stop repeating what I’m saying,” I say, making sure my words have a teasing tone. I remember how seriously Brody can take things.
“Sorry.” His cheeks flush red, and I remember something else that attracted me to Brody. His self-assuredness would be potent in its own, but mixed in with his humility and tendency to flush when he’s caught off-balance? Christmas kryptonite. “You... you know taking me means you’ll be alone with me. In the car and in the store.”
“Well, I don’t think the store will bethatdead, even at 9:00 p.m. It is the holiday shopping season after all.”
“But, you’ll take me. You’ll take me to the store?” His tone couldn’t be more surprised if he tried.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “Like I said, I’m?—”
“Over it.” Another voice cuts in from my left. Like a bubble burst, Brody and I wear matching shocked expressions to find out we’re not alone yet. Jimmy smirks my way, his look one that knows too much, before he softens his grin for Brody. “Wanted to check a couple of database things with you before I took off, Mr. Santa. Sound okay?”
Brody looks at me with a question in his eye. If I have time to think about it, will I take back my offer? Maybe I should, but something in me—the self-destructive streak that’s always run far and wide in my life—is louder than my sanity. “I’ll head back to the school now and get changed. Make sure the Bronco is clean enough for such an important passenger. Plus, I’ll warm it up too.”
This time the flush reaches the whole way to Brody’s earlobes. I’d bet my salary for the next week that the tips of his ears are red under his hat too. I teased him all the time about being from the South and a big baby when it comes to the cold. Maybe after a decade of life in New York City he’s finally used to it, but there’s something different about a New England chill.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon. And thanks.”
He snaps back into focus mode, looking at the screen Jimmy’s holding up for him. I’m almost upset at how easily he’s able to brush off the fact that we’re about to be truly alone, without the chance of someone interrupting.Self-destruction dialed up to eleven.But as I head to the door with a few of the other elves, I feel it—the heat of his gaze on my back. Right before I shut the door firmly behind me, I look back. And this time, when I catch his eyes on me, he doesn’t look away.
Chapter 6
Brody
When I walk into the parking lot next to the gymnasium, I’m expecting Austin to be long gone. There’s an SUV running in the lot, parking lights on and exhaust puffing a white cloud tinged yellow in the glow of the street lamps around us. Walking closer, I can make out a familiar silhouette in the driver’s seat. I take a deep breath and after another few steps, pull up even with the driver’s side door. My knock on the window is muffled by the thick fabric of my gloves, but it’s still enough to startle Austin. His body jolts and then levels me with a glare clearly meant to say, “What the fuck are you doing on this side of the car?”
“We good?” I say out loud, my hand folding into a thumbs up seemingly outside of my control. I don’t miss the eye roll before Austin jerks his head, indicating I should walk around to the other side of the car and get in.
“I thought you might have left,” I say, buckling my seat belt and looking over to my left. He busies himself with putting the car in reverse and navigating us out of the parking spot.
