Page 71 of Santa's Girl
By ten-thirty, I’d coordinated a snowman-themed toddler dance recital, calmed down a mom who thought her son’s Nutcracker role was “too gendered,” and fielded seventeen voicemails from local vendors wanting to sponsor the Holiday Festival.
By eleven, I’d forgotten what food was.
By noon, I’d eaten half a crushed granola bar from the bottom of my purse while speed-walking to the gym to fix the Bluetooth speaker before the Tinsel & Taps Jazz class mutinied.
It was chaos.
It was mayhem.
It wasthe oppositeof Charlotte corporate life, where every calendar invite had to be color-coded and cleared by a manager before you so much as ordered lunch.
And somehow… Iloved it.
There was something raw andrealabout it here. People’s expectations were high, but their hearts were in it. It mattered. These events — the recitals, the tree lighting, the tiny glitter-covered ballerinas —meantsomething to this town.
And somehow, they trusted me with it.
That felt… big.
My phone buzzed sometime mid-afternoon while I was knee-deep in a box of tangled string lights and mislabeled donation bins.
It was from Bear.
I didn’t even have time to check it. I just smiled, slipped the phone back in my back pocket, and kept moving.
Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just keeping busy.
I wasbecoming something.
And tonight?
I had a date with a man who saw me beforeIdid.
16
BEAR
The glow of the candles hit her hair just right — soft gold flickers catching on every loose strand framing her face like a halo she’d never admit to wearing.
She was flushed from the wine. From the day.
Fromlife.
“—and then this mom storms in, swearing her daughter’s costume was swapped, screaming about sequins and sabotage like it wasToddlers and Tiaras: Holiday Bloodbath,” she said, eyes wide, hands flying with each word. “I literally had to bribe the lighting guy with a brownie to hold the tech run while I talked her down.”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it.
She wasn’t just beautiful.
She wasalight.
Glowing. Lit from within. Her voice had an edge of purpose now, like she’d finally stopped drifting and found something solid to stand on.
“You should’ve seen the look on my face,” she added, grinning. “It was like I’d been hired to run the damn Pentagon, not a community center.”
I set my glass down, leaned forward, eyes never leaving hers.
“I think you’ve found your passion, babe.”
