Page 34 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

That earned Buck a growl.

“Come on, let’s get you up and in the shower. The warm water on your back will help, and then we’ll work on following your birth plan.” Buck ignored my mate’s growl.

The birth plan had sounded great when Dario made it. But now, trying to put it into action, I realized it was completely useless.

Everything Dario had wanted, he’d changed his mind on a few times as the realities of labor kicked in. But the three of us were a team—Buck guiding us, me assisting wherever I could.

We tried the warm shower. We did some pacing. Dario even ate some of the cookies Wyn had sent. I hadn’t realized they were for labor until Buck asked if we’d gotten the “birthing cookies” yet.

How had I not known about birthing cookies?

Close to midnight, Buck declared it was time to push.

I stood behind my mate, his back pressed against me as he squatted. He pushed. And he pushed. And he pushed.

So brave. So strong.

How I wished I could take the pain from him, but all I could do was lend him my strength. It didn’t feel like enough. With all my Christmas magic, I still felt powerless.

Then he cried out my name—my real name, Chris—just as Buck told him he could see our child’s head.

“One more push will do it.”

And it did.

The beautiful sound of our baby girl’s cry filled the air.

A few moments later, Buck set her on Dario’s chest. “Congratulations, dads. She’s beautiful. She looks so much like an elf.”

“So, she’s a shifter elf?” Dario asked.

“It doesn’t matter what she is. She’s perfect.” I kissed my mate’s head.

“Absolutely perfect.” Dario looked down at her, the tears in his eyes mimicking my own.

Epilogue

Dario

Despite the cold, I dressed our little Tanny as we called her, and I peered through the window, waiting for Chris.

We named her Tanelia, an elf name, because she reminded us of an elf when she was born, and elves featured prominently in our lives. Where would Santa be without them?

It was very early Christmas morning and my mate was due home soon. In honor of our daughter’s first Christmas Eve, the reindeer had circled our house three times, dipping and soaring as they set out on their long journey. And Tanny was awake for all of it. She must have sensed that was her Daddy and how Christmas would not be the same for millions of children without him.

Now we were waiting for Santa. As silly as it might sound, we wanted our daughter to have the same experience as every other child. Why should she miss out just because her father was Santa?

In years to come, she would not remember tonight, but we would, and we’d take pics to show her when she was older.

A swishing up above alerted me to Santa’s sleigh as the reindeer’s hooves cantered through the air and created a shadow on the snow-covered front yard. Max rested his paws on the windowsill and barked.

“Listen, Tanny. What’s that?”

She gurgled and then was still as a thump on the roof told us the sleigh had landed. Cinders fell into the fireplace when Santa slid down the chimney, a sack of toys on his back and his red-and-white suit pristine in spite of the soot.

Oops. I’d need to make sure the chimney sweeper did a better job next year.

Most kids were supposed to be in their beds and not meet Santa, but we figured as our daughter was special, she deserved to see him deliver her presents.

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