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I crouch in front of him.

“Is it okay with you?”

Another shrug.

“I mean you are my mom.”

You’re my mom.

“Yeah, honey, I’m your mom.”

I pull him into my arms.

He squeaks.

“Too tight?”

“A little.”

I loosen my hold. “Sorry.”

“But you can still hug me.”

I laugh through my tears and hug him again. “Okay.”

His arms go around my neck.

“I love you, Mommy.”

Oh, that’s just mean.

“I love you too, baby.”

When I stand, Maverick is watching me. He has a child waiting.

There are probably thirty people in this room.

He’s wearing a fake white beard. And somehow the look he gives me is still hot enough to make my knees weak.

He mouths two words. You okay?

I nod. More than okay. Shiloh grabs my hand.

“Come on, Mom. We have more kids.”

Mommy.

I may never recover.

An hour later, the last family leaves.

Volunteers are cleaning up. Shiloh disappeared with Dottie ten minutes ago after consuming enough cookies to sustain him until Easter.

Which means Santa is finally alone. I find him still sitting in the big red chair.

The beard is gone. The hat is gone. The coat is open at the throat. The rest of the suit remains.

Excellent.