Holly looked up at Santa. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him, but didn’t know why. It didn’t matter though. Every word she said was the truth. She didn’t believe in anything anymore, especially Santa. 

“Come on, Bobby,” she said, sliding off Santa’s lap, “we need to get home.” 

“Just a few more minutes, Mom. Please,” he begged. 

Holly felt bad. She knew she wouldn’t get another night to bring him to the festival. Christmas was always busier at work since her boss took off more time than usual. But she knew she needed to get Bobby home. 

As if to prove that, he yawned loudly and snuggled against Santa. 

“Why don’t I walk you out,” Santa said, standing with Bobby in his arms. 

Holly looked up at him, searching the body beneath the suit. His arms bulged under the weight of her son, but he appeared well capable of carrying him. Bobby was drifting quickly and Holly knew she’d never make it to the car without help. 

“Thank you,” she finally said, meeting Santa’s eyes. “I’d appreciate the help.” 

He smiled at her and she felt something shift inside. Like his smile was only for her. Made for her. 

If only that were true, she thought.