Page 21 of Santa & His Elf

“Yes,” Nick replies, with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. At the same moment, I lift a hand to tame my mom. We are not at the baby-planning stage yet. We’ve got time. Hundreds of years. There is no rush. “We’ll get there,” I reassure her, hoping that suffices.

“How many babies?” She bounces in her seat.

“We haven’t gotten that far,” I grouse, hating that we’re even discussing this.

“Eight. Please have eight.”

“Mom,” I scold.

“What?” She shrugs. “Eight is a good number. You have eight reindeer. One for each kid.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“We have twenty-five reindeer,” Nick supplies around a mouthful of food.

My head swings to him in surprise. “We do?”

“Yes. They don’t pull my sleigh, but they help around the Pole.”

“How come I haven’t seen them?”

“Because you were a mural painter.”

“I still am a mural painter,” I remind him.

“Yes,” he agrees. “But you’re also my husband and head elf, making you the most important person in the North Pole.”

“I’m not the most important.”

“To me, you are,” he says with such sincerity my heart races. To my parents, he declares, “However many children Pepper will have with me, I’ll be happy to father. One. Eight. One hundred. Eight hundred. That’s his choice.”

What?

Sputtering at his words, I nudge my shoulder to the side of his arm. “We’re not having eight hundred children, Nick.”

“Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But if you wanted them, I’d give you that many. We’d have a lot of fun trying.” Nick waggles his brows suggestively over the edge of his glass, and I catch on fire.

What is it with this man?

One minute, he refuses to sleep, and now we’re talking about having eight hundred children.

Two children. We can have two children. That’s two more than I ever thought I’d be able to have, considering I couldn’t even get an erection until recently.

With the bombs officially out of the way, the tension at the table slowly disperses, and we fall into normal, comfortablechatter as we enjoy our home-cooked meal. Dad talks to Nick about plans for the Pole. Mom asks me about our house and how I plan to use my artistic gifts next. Babies are long forgotten, as is the awkwardness of bringing my partner home to meet the family.

After dinner, we retire to my parents’ living room, but not before Mom takes a plate of vegetables outside for Prancer.

Seated beside Nick on the elf-sized family sofa, I lean into him as my mom regales him with stories about me as a child. I tune them out to listen to the crackle of the fireplace and soak in the heat of the man beside me. It’s comforting, so comforting, I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I’m floating with my head tucked against a yummy-scented neck.

“It was a pleasure seeing you both again,” Nick says as a door opens and cool air bites my cheeks.

A small hand pats my shoulder. “See you soon, Pepper. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom.” I yawn. “Tomorrow.”

“Bye, son.”

“Bye, Dad.” I raise a lazy hand in farewell as Nick carries me down the steps of my parents’ cabin and over to our fancy ride. He doesn’t bother setting me on the seat when he climbs on and keeps me tucked against his chest as Prancer sets a quick pace home.

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