Page 29 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

I was so excited at how the project was coming together.

“I love snow globes,” I told Wyn and explained how the Christmas Spectacular had a snow globe making competition. “Can we make them special by showing some of Santa’s adventures?”

Wyn agreed. “Let’s add some to the mantlepiece.”

“And what if the tree had ornaments from different countries around the world, all made by children?”

“Santa would love that.”

We added stockings shaped like a reindeer head in a homage to my beast and the animals who took Santa over the world, while Max had a puppy one with a bone. Wyn also came up with floating snowflakes fluttering through the air, but they didn’t melt.

“May I suggest a magic portal?”

I didn’t like the idea of being whisked away into another dimension, especially as we wanted to be at home and not leave. Our traveling was done before the big day, and we intended to hunker down while everyone else was celebrating.

But Wyn explained it wasn’t for us to walk or jump through but so we could view Christmas being celebrated around the world.

“And he can watch the kids opening the presents he brought.” I clapped, loving the idea.

Everything we’d come up with required a little magic, so I would add my own touches after Wyn had left. We stood outside, me wrapped up in my big coat, and Wyn wove his magic. The roof glowed and mimicked the northern lights, and we walked along the path, guided by the twinkling candles in the ice lanterns.

My favorite part of the decorations inside were the snowflakes. I tried to catch them, but they were too canny and swirled away from me. I was convinced they were tittering but that might have been my imagination.

After Wyn left, I placed photos of me, Chris, and Max on the mantle, one of which was taken on the day of the Christmas Spectacular. I made the bed with Santa sheets and decorated the table with holly and ivy, along with silver plates and red napkins. And I wrapped presents and placed them under the tree.

I’d already made the gingerbread house and just had to put it together. The lemon icing was so yummy, there was more in my tummy than on the house. But when it was done, complete with candy canes and a snowman, it looked too good to eat. I’d have to make another one for us to nibble on.

Chris texted he’d be home for thirty minutes. Pleased that I’d batch-cooked two weekends ago, I heated up a meal and racedoutside, wanting to see his expression when he saw what Wyn and I had done.

“Wow!” Chris studied the house. “It takes a lot to surprise me, but you’ve succeeded.”

I dragged him inside, not wanting to waste a precious minute.

“This is amazing.” He drew me into his embrace. “But the photo of us the day we met is my favorite.”

Mine too.

Chapter 22

Santa

Christmas Day usually signaled my day off. I would come home from my toy run, climb into bed, and sleep the day away. It was fine—I already had my Christmas fix all year long. Spending the one day recouping worked for me.

But this year was different.

This year, I had my mate at home waiting for me.

The offer had always stood for him to come along, but he was tired—exhausted, really. It wasn’t until I was halfway through my run that I realized why, that I understood the feeling I’d gotten around him earlier that day. Which was why, when I was done with my run, I didn’t come straight home. Instead, I went to the workshop and got him a special gift—one that was for him, but also about the gift he was giving me. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened it.

Once home, I changed into the matching pajamas he’d so lovingly picked out for us. I say lovingly, but I think it was a joke at first. Who wears matching pajamas? Us apparently, andI loved it. They were perfect—covered with Christmas trees and little Maxes wearing Santa hats.

They were absolute perfection.

I climbed into bed beside him, and he snuggled in close, not even waking up. It was as if his sleeping form recognized that I was home—that his mate was there by his side. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was the little glittery cookie-shaped mark on his neck—the one I’d left for him the night we mated. Of course, Santa didn’t leave a typical mating mark—his was special.

It would’ve been adorable, even if it hadn’t been so meaningful. But it was the most meaningful gift I’d ever given. That night I promised him my love, my companionship, and my forever. It was the night I finally became whole.

We were walking this life together—Christmas after Christmas and every day in between.

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