Epilogue
Christmas Eve, two years later
“I’ll just follow Santa to his sled,” Kristian says as I’m about to leave after handing out presents to the kids, and I smile underneath the scary Santa mask.
“I’ll come with you, Uncle Kristian,” nine-year-old Jonatan says and jumps to his feet.
“Nah, buddy, it’s not necessary. Stay and open your presents,” Kristian says, trying to sneak away, but Jonatan is too fast.
“It’s no trouble,” he says, attaching himself to Kristian’s side, chin raised high in stubbornness, and Kristian gives in. He meets my gaze with a barely perceptible shrug, and I try to give him a reassuring smile until I remember he can’t see me behind the mask anyway.
It’s our tradition—if it can be called that, considering this is only the third time—that he follows me out
