Page 22 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

“What are you doing here, Santa?” He set down his tablet—the one he used now instead of his clipboard.

What was he asking me that? He was the one who called me. “I got four messages.”

“And did you listen to any of them?”

“I figured that after the fourth one came in, whatever it was needed me faster than it would take to listen to them all.”

Ryfon rolled his eyes. “Listen to mine.”

I took out my phone and tapped away.

Hey, Santa. Ignore them. I told them not to bother you. It’s already taken care of. Hope you’re having fun on your date.

“I should have listened to yours, at least.” I could’ve still been in bed with my mate.

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He reached for something on his desk, but then pulled his arm back, coming over to me instead. “Are you okay, Santa? You don’t look right.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Did things not go well on your date?”

“No, they went really well. It was perfect. But then I had to come here, and now... my body hurts. It doesn’t make sense. I’m not sick. I don’t get sick.” It was one of the benefits of being Santa.

“Start from the beginning and tell me about your date.” He indicated the big red armchair, and I sat down with him across from me.

I proceeded to tell him everything—everything up until the kiss under the mistletoe, anyway. Some things were private.

“And did you kiss him under the mistletoe?”

I nodded.

“Did it end there? What I mean is did you two…” Ryfon waggled his hand back and forth, as if we weren’t grown-ups and he couldn’t say the words.

“That’s private.”

“Or it could be important information.” His cheeks were the color of a beet. “You said he’s your mate and you’re his, and now… if you had the fun… I think you have this half-bond. Unless there’s a mark somewhere...”

“There’s no mark, but yes to ‘the fun.’” I wouldn’t share any details, but apparently, what we did together was need-to-know information.

“Then that’s it. You have a half-bond, and this feeling is going to just keep getting worse as time goes by.” Not the news I wanted.

“I can’t force him to choose this life. And if that means I’m in pain, I’ll just get used to it.”

“Santa, tell me… did you give him the choice to choose this life, or did you choose for him?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why do you see me?”

“Because I get paid the big bucks to be observant.”

“You get paid in cookies and sweets and a cushy lifestyle.”

“Exactly.” He stood up and twirled around. “Best job ever. But seriously, Santa. You need to decide. If it’s this bad for you, don’t you think maybe it might be this bad for your mate?”

“My mate...” The thought hadn’t crossed my mind at all. I figured it was me suffering because of not being a shifter or what have you. And now that I knew better, I understood what I needed to do.

Chapter 17

Dario

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