than you are. I won’t take the risk that I’ll hurt you more.”
She sniffed. Nodded. “I get it.”
“I don’t think you do—”
“Ho, ho, ho!”
Recognizing the voice as her father’s, Shannon snapped her head up and spun around. “Daddy?”
Dressed as Santa himself, carrying a sack of gifts, Dave Raleigh strode toward Santa’s throne, gesturing broadly. “I’d like to thank my helper here for taking my place for a while this morning, but I’m here now.” He dropped the sack just as her mom strode over.
Dressed in a festive red pantsuit, with her hair perfectly coiffed, Stacy Raleigh said, “Silly old coot. I tried to talk him out of this but you know how he loves Christmas.”
Just then Finley scampered over. Her mom smiled. “And who is this?”
“Mom—” she gestured to Rory “—this is Rory Wallace.”
Her mom extended her hand to shake his. “Ah, the gentleman who came to see the store.”
“Yes.” She motioned to Finley. “And this is his daughter, Finley.”
Stacy stooped down. “Well, aren’t you adorable?”
Finley said, “Yes, ma’am.”
And Shannon laughed. But she also saw her way out of this painful and embarrassing situation. She caught Rory’s arm and turned him in the direction of the stairway off the Santa-throne platform. “Thank you for a wonderful visit. We’ll look forward to hearing from you after the holidays.”
She stooped and kissed Finley’s cheek. Unable to stop herself she wrapped Finley in a big hug and whispered, “I love you,” in her ear.
Finley squeezed back and whispered, “I love you, too.”
Then she rose and relinquished Finley into her dad’s custody. She watched them walk down the stairs, then raced to the half wall of the mezzanine and watched as they squeezed through the first-floor sales floor, watched as they walked through the door and out into the falling snow.
Her mom caught her forearm. “Shannon?”
The tears welling in her eyes spilled over. “I want to go home.”
SHANNON’S MOTHER deposited her in the living room, left and returned with a cup of tea. “Drink this.”
Her tears now dried up, she took the tiny china cup and saucer from her mother’s hands. “Did you remember sugar?”
Her mom smiled. “Yes.”
She took a sip, closed her eyes and sighed.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Her automatic response was to say, “I’m fine.” But remembering the wonderful sense of release she had being around Rory after having confessed the truth, she wouldn’t let herself lie, not even to protect her mom.
She cleared her throat. “I…um…told Rory that I couldn’t have kids.”
Her mom’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because he was starting to like me and I felt he needed to know the truth.”
Her mom’s face fell in horror. “You scared him off?”
Oh, Lord. She’s never thought of it that way. “I didn’t want him to get involved in something that wouldn’t work for him.”
Stacy drew Shannon into her arms and hugged her. “You always were incredibly fair.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, grateful that her mom understood and even more grateful that the feeling that she’d done the wrong thing had disappeared. “He’s a good man who wants more kids.”
“And you can always adopt—”
She pulled out of her mom’s embrace, caught her gaze. “I am going to adopt.”
“On your own?”
“Yes.”
She hugged her again. “And you always were brave, too.” She squeezed her tighter. “I’m glad.”
Shannon returned her mother’s hug, closed her eyes and contented herself with the fact that being around Finley had given her enough confidence that she could go on with the rest of her life. So what if it was without Rory? So what if she didn’t have someone she felt connected to? Someone who made her feel special? Someone who loved her unconditionally?
Her heart broke a bit. Though Rory and Finley had helped her to make the decision to adopt, she couldn’t begin looking immediately. She didn’t want to associate getting a child to losing Rory and Finley. She wanted her child to come into her life when she was totally over the loss.
And she didn’t think she would be for a while.
Two hours later, Rory was battling traffic on I-95, wondering why so many people needed to be out on Christmas Eve. It was two o’clock in the afternoon when people should be at home with their families.
“So, then, I kinda peeked at Santa’s ear and I think I saw something holding his beard on.”
Rory absently said, “You might have.”
“Because it was fake?”
He glanced at her. Now that she was “into” Christmas a whole new set of problems had arisen. Her beliefs were so precarious and so fragile that he didn’t want to spoil the magic. But she was a smart kid, a six-year-old, somebody who probably would have been realizing by now that Santa wasn’t real.
He had no idea what to say and reached for his cell phone to call Shannon. She would know.
His hand stopped. His chest tightened. He couldn’t call her. He’d hurt her. Walking out of Raleigh’s he’d convinced himself that leaving was sad, but justified, because he wasn’t sure he loved her and didn’t want to hurt her. But that was a rationalization. He had already hurt her. In a few short days, they’d fallen into some romantic place where it didn’t matter if they wanted to like each other. It didn’t matter if they spent every waking minute together or thirty seconds a day—they still wanted more. They’d clicked, connected.
But he was afraid.
Who was he kidding? He was terrified.
“So was his beard fake?”
He glanced at Finley, all bright eyes and childlike smiles. “Well, you saw the real Santa come in and take over. So the guy whose lap you sat on was like his helper.” A thought came to him and he ran with it. “There’s a Santa in every shopping mall
