Page 75 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
We move down another corridor where a man mopping the floor stops his work and slaps a friendly hand on Matt’s back. “Matt, my brother!”
“George! How’s she doing today?” Matt asks.
“Seems like a good day,” the man says. “Last I checked, she was reading peacefully in her room.”
“Awesome.” He turns to me. “George, I’d like you to meet my friend Penny.”
“Hey there, Penny,” George says. “You sure you wanna hang around with this punk? Holler at me if you need some help.”
I laugh. “I’m okay. Big fan of punks, I guess.”
“That’s good to hear.” He slaps Matt on the back again. “You couldn’t find a better punk than this one.”
“High praise, George,” Matt says. “Thank you.”
We continue walking until Matt stops at a door, opened just a crack, and turns to face me.
He doesn’t say anything at first, but he looks like he has a million thoughts going through his head at once.
“So. Your mom, huh?” I say dumbly, not knowing what else to say at this moment.
“Yeah.” He winces and leans against the wall. “Is this okay? Is it too weird? It sounds like she’s having a good day, but I know you were sort of swindled into this visit, so if you don’t want to go inside, that’s completely fine?—”
I take his hand and pull him closer to me. “I don’t feel swindled. You said you wanted me to meet someone, and I’m about to meet someone, right?”
He lets out a relieved breath. “You’re awesome. Have I told you lately that you’re awesome?”
I smile. “You have. About a half hour ago, when we were working with the kids.”
“Well, it bears repeating. You’re awesome. Seriously, Penn, you’re so good with them. What you did with that dino battle? That was some epic?—”
“Are you stalling perhaps?” I cut him off.
“Probably, yeah,” he admits.
“Everything’s okay, Matt. I’m happy to be here with you, and I’m honored you’d like me to meet her.”
“Thanks, Penny.”
It feels like an odd moment to imagine kissing him. But that’s exactly what I do. I imagine leaning just the tiniest bit closer and sealing my lips with his.
Neither of us has brought up our make-out session at Herald’s since it happened. I’ve wanted to, but the time never seems right. And what would I say anyway? “Hey, remember that time I shoved my hand down your pants in Santa’s House? Want to do that again sometime?”
There’s a big difference between then and now, though. That whole encounter at work was fueled by lust. Whatever is happening between us at this moment feels entirely different.
“Shall we then?” Matt says, breaking the silence.
I nod, and he presses the door open with one hand, his other hand still linked with mine.
“Matthias? Is that you?” a feminine voice calls from inside.
“Wait. Is your name really Matthias?” I whisper in his ear.
“Yes. Is that amusing to you?”
“No. It’s just—” I chuckle. “I’ll tell you later.”
We enter the room fully and find a beautiful woman sitting on a puffy pink loveseat near the window. She has shoulder-length brown hair with only a few streaks of gray. She looks far too young to be in the situation she’s in, but by the big smile on her face right now, you’d have no idea she’s been struggling.
