Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“You’re not going to lie to your parents,” I mutter under my breath so no one around us can hear.
“It doesn’t have to be a lie, Milly,” he says, and I turn to face him so I can ask if he’s serious, but his cell phone rings. With a sigh, he pulls it out of his pocket, and when he sees the screen, his brows drag together. “Sorry, I gotta take this call.” He leans in, kissing my forehead before getting up off the couch.
“Who’s ready for some pie?” his mom asks, and even as stuffed as I am, my mouth waters at the idea of having a piece of the pumpkin pie I saw in the kitchen.
“I can help you,” I tell her, standing.
“Thanks, honey.” She smiles at me before leading the way toward the kitchen.
When we reach the doorway, I freeze in place when I hear Tyler tell whoever he’s talking to that I’ve been Port Huron’s Santa for four years. Anger turns my stomach, making the food I’d eaten earlier sour, and my hands ball into fists at my sides.
I know I should just walk away, but I can’t. I trusted him with my secret, and I can’t believe that after the day we’ve had, he would go behind my back and do the one thing I asked him not to do. As soon as I walk around the corner into the kitchen, his eyes meet mine and fill with regret.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Milly, baby—”
“You promised you wouldn’t tell. You promised.”
“I didn’t.” He shoves his phone into his back pocket as he takes a step toward me.
“Then what was that?” My jaw clenches as I fight back tears.
“That was Steven Harris, who runs the local paper. We were caught on video last night at a couple of the houses we went to, and they are planning on running the story. He called to ask me if I wanted to make a statement. He thought it’s always been me.” He reaches out, taking my hand. “I know you don’t want people to know, but they will after the article, and it’s only right you get the credit.”
“I don’t want credit. I never wanted that.”
“I know you didn’t, but the story is going to run, and the families who got us on video have already sent the footage to one of the local TV stations.”
Oh man, my legs suddenly feel like Jell-O, so I take a seat on one of the barstools in the kitchen. “You’re the Port Huron Santa?” Tyler’s mom asks, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Who’s the Port Huron Santa?” his dad prompts, coming into the kitchen with his sister following.
“Milly is.” Tyler sighs. “She didn’t want anyone to know, but at two of the houses we went to last night, we were caught on video, and they’ve already turned those tapes in to the local news station.”
“You helped?” his dad asks.
“Only last night, and only because the truck she rented broke down. The last four years, Milly has done what we did last night on her own, and even last night, all I did was carry a few trees. That’s what I was telling Steve on the phone, because I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve got anything to do with the magic she creates every year.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, cocooning me in his embrace, then kisses the top of my hair. “I’m sorry that people are gonna find out, baby.”
“Me too, but I guess I should have thought about technology when I was planning everything out.”
“Well, now you know for next year. And just think—you can really use some of those fancy ninja skills you were telling me about.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” I roll my eyes, then tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I’ll do it again next year, now that people know it’s me. I don’t want people to think I’m doing it for attention or something.”
“You have to do it again,” his sister says, and my eyes lock with hers. “Who cares if people know it’s you? You’re doing something special and reminding people what the holidays are really about. I, for one, love it, and I know everyone else will feel the same.”
“She’s right, baby. If it’s something that makes you happy, you can’t stop doing it just because people now know it’s you.”
“I’ll think about it,” I give in, not sure what I’ll do.
“Well, you have a year to figure it out,” his mom says, passing me a piece of pie. “For now, let’s enjoy tonight and worry about the rest another time.”
“That works for me,” I agree with a smile.
365 days later
As I dump a glob of waffle batter into my waffle machine, my eyes catch on the shiny diamond sitting on my left ring finger. As I roll it from side to side, a smile catches on my lips, and happiness fills my chest. I never would have thought that so much could change in one single year, but over the last three hundred and sixty-five days, everything has changed for me.