Page 7 of Frozen Promises

SANTA’S ROSES

Catalina

I hadn’t meant to miss dinner last night, but sometime after my impromptu live, I fell asleep and woke up the following morning to five missed calls and seven texts from Santi.

Are you doing okay?

Catalina, we saw the live, are you okay?

Please say you’re okay.

You’re not answering. Noah’s going over to check.

He checked! You’re asleep. You must be really tired because you didn’t budge when he came in. We’re coming by in the morning, though.

None of the missed texts or calls came from Elias.

I guess I expected too much. By leaving I had hoped Elias would finally understand just how serious I am.

I thought maybe he would have called to apologize and talk about our future together.

But he’s been silent since I got into Santiago’s car and drove away from him.

I don’t know about him, but that was the fucking hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I hate questioning if I did the right thing or not.

Knowing Santi and Noah will storm into my cabin at any moment, I head to the bathroom to change and look presentable.

Ten minutes later, the front door opens, and Santiago calls out for me. “Catalina! You better not be hiding from me.”

“Now, why would I be hiding from you, Santi?” I ask, stepping out of the bathroom.

Santiago lets out a shriek and leaps into the air, like a cat that’s just caught sight of its shadow. Noah bursts into laughter at his husband’s dramatic reaction, receiving a playful smack to the chest.

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” Santi demands, panting as he presses a hand to his chest and glares between Noah and I as if we had plotted to scare him behind his back.

“I can’t really sneak up on you when you’re the one breaking into my cabin,” I point out.

“Fair point,” Santiago agrees. “We were just worried about you. After the live last night. . . I don’t know, Cat. All that pain in your voice broke my heart.”

My cheeks heat as a flood of embarrassment washes over me. “Yeah . . . maybe that wasn’t my smartest move, but I don’t regret it. It’s how I felt. And since Elias isn’t listening, I need someone to hear me.”

“We hear you, love,” Noah says, moving to stand next to his husband. “You’re not alone.”

I smile and choke back emotions that threaten to consume me. “I appreciate and love both of you,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be around two people so much in love when your marriage is going up in flames.”

Santiago gives me a sympathetic expression before hugging me. I happily accept, falling into my best friend’s arms. “I love you, and I’m so thankful for our friendship, even if I have to pay you to hang out with me.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, squeezing me harder. “I could be charging you a lot more to hang out with you, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Are you both ready to go to the lodge and get breakfast?” Noah asks, interrupting our hug fest as my stomach growls. I don’t remember eating at all yesterday, too consumed by grief. Now my body is angry at me. I also desperately need coffee. Like now.

“Let me just get my shoes on, and we can go,” I call, heading to my suitcase when someone knocks on the door. I freeze, looking back at the guys to see if they are expecting anyone, but they wear the same looks of confusion.

“Uhm, are we expecting someone?” Santiago asks. “Or did we walk into a horror movie and are about to be killed?”

“Santi!” I hiss. I hadn’t been thinking about that, but now that’s all I can think about.

“Well, someone needs to open the door, and it’s not going to be me!” Santiago says, moving behind the couch. He crouches down, peering over the top. “I’ll stay here. I vote Noah goes.”

“Me? Why the fuck do I have to get killed first?” he hisses.

“I guess I’ll be the brave one,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “But if I die, you better make content about it.”

Santiago salutes me. “I’ll go live at your funeral.”

With that sobering thought weighing on me, I slowly inch toward the door as another knock echoes from the other side. A quiet, tentative voice in the back of my mind wonders if it’s Elias. Did he come all this way to see me? To apologize?

The possibility makes my heart flutter and ache all at once. But even if it is him . . . do I really want to face him right now? Maybe it’s still too soon. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I still need more time to breathe on my own.

Maybe . . .

All thoughts of Elias die when I crack open the door and see red. Literally red. A large Santa look alike stands there, complete with a large belly and full beard. He’s holding a bouquet of at least three dozen flowers.

When he laughs, his whole body shakes. “Ho, ho, ho! You must be Catalina.”

I hear movement from behind me before Santiago comes into view and yanks the door all the way open. “Holy shit, it’s Santa!”

“Watch your mouth around Santa, young man. You wouldn’t want to end up on my naughty list,” Santa says, winking at Santi. My friend just makes a face, while Noah hides a snicker behind us.

I’m certain Santiago flips Santa off.

“Um, yeah, I’m Catalina,” I say, trying to peer past him, half-expecting to spot the cabin owners nearby.

Maybe this is just some festive tradition they do every Christmas.

Snow has fallen again, and soft flakes drift down to blanket the already white landscape with another shimmering layer.

With Santa standing right in front of me and the world transformed into a winter wonderland, it feels like we’ve stepped straight into the North Pole.

“Someone says you have been a really good girl this year and wanted to make sure I personally delivered these roses to you. Said they are your favorite.” Santa beams, handing over the bouquet.

My body freezes. Red roses. My favorite kind. And only one person has ever sent me these flowers.

Grabbing the bouquet is no easy task considering how damn big it is, but I manage to get my hands around the bottom with only a few pricks from the thorns.

“Is there a note?” Santiago asks, leaning in to look. He pulls back after a moment and shakes his head. “No note.”

“Who are these from?” I ask Santa.

The jolly man simply laughs, his belly shaking.

“You’ll see,” he says with a wink that only deepens my confusion.

Then, with a flourish, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an elegant card trimmed in gold.

“You’ve also been gifted a special breakfast for you and your friends,” he explains, handing it to me.

“Present this to the woman at the lodge’s front desk.

She’ll take care of the rest and escort you to your destination. ”

Like a fool, I just stare at the card in disbelief. Santi clears his throat before reaching for it. “Thanks Santa. We’ll be using this now.”

“Good, good!” he says far too cheerfully for this early in the morning. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ayala.” Santa laughs again before descending the steps. He walks back to his sleigh—AKA Jeep—and speeds back down the trail going faster than what seems safe.

“Think Santa had one too many eggnogs?” Santi mumbles.

My gaze flickers back down to the roses.

They smell beautiful, like summer. Back when Elias and I first got married, we scraped together just enough money to rent our first apartment.

The only furniture we had were folding tables we stole from our parents' garages and an old TV Elias found in the trash and restored.

Despite having very little money to our name and a barely furnished apartment, every Friday night Elias brought home a dozen roses.

“Carino, one day you’ll have a garden to grow your own roses.

Until then, I’ll bring them home to you,” he would say.

Even though I knew every Friday he’d bring home roses, I always teared up.

It was such a sweet, thoughtful gift. And now, I can’t remember the last time he bought me flowers for something other than my birthday.

I don’t realize how much I miss it until they are in my hands again.

These had to be from Elias. Who else would send me a random bouquet of roses in the middle of nowhere? But that only raises another question—how did he even know where I am? I’ve always suspected he was tracking my phone, and this pretty much confirms it.

Maybe I should be angry that my husband is basically stalking me . . . but instead, I feel a strange sense of comfort. I’m so starved for his affection that the idea of him caring enough to find me—no matter how questionable the method—makes my heart ache in the best kind of way.

Both men are looking at me when I tear my gaze away from the roses. They both wear the same expression of not knowing if they should be happy or mad for me.

“It’s from Elias,” I say quickly. “I mean, I think it is anyway. Unless one of you sent it?”

Santi and Noah shake their heads as I suspected.

“What do I do?” It’s a dumb question. This is a decision I should make on my own, but my heart and mind are at war with one another. My heart wants to run back to Elias and never leave him again, while my head tells me roses aren't going to fix months of neglect.

“Well,” Santi says and holds up the invitation, “we are going to have a bomb ass breakfast, and you’re going to take pictures and videos of it for B-roll footage.

If Elias has any more surprises awaiting you, we will deal with it then.

But right now, I’m starving. And nothing tastes better than breakfast paid for by someone else. ”

“And what Santi fails to mention is if you want to talk about Elias and where your head’s at during breakfast, we can,” Noah adds.

I don’t know what I did to deserve these two, but I’m thankful they’re in my life. This would all be so much harder if I didn’t have Santi and Noah to lean on.

They are right. We shouldn’t waste a perfectly good breakfast. If Elias knows where I’m at, then he can continue to reach out. I’ve done enough.

Placing the bouquet down on the kitchen table, I quickly slip into my boots. “No boy talk. Just breakfast. Then the two of you are going to leave me alone, so you can have the romantic getaway you planned.”

“You’re the boss,” Santi says with a grin.

When he turns to look at Noah, his face softens with so much love it makes my chest tighten.

A tenderness exists between them that’s impossible to miss, and I feel a quiet pang of jealousy stir in me.

Noah leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Santi’s lips.

It’s a soft, public-appropriate gesture, but it’s intimate enough that I instinctively look away, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

“Okay!” Santi said once they break away. “Let’s go see what apology breakfast Elias has in store for you.” And with that, we head out of my cabin.