Page 31 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

"I can pop to the pharmacy and get you a test if you want, but yeah, I’m sure."

He climbed into my lap, facing me, and cupped my cheeks with his hands. "We’re going to have a baby."

"We are."

"This is the best Christmas ever." He kissed me, his arms wrapped tight around me.

He was right: This was the best Christmas ever!

Chapter 23

Dario

“How much stuff does a baby need?” Chris studied the website I’d shown him. “Don’t they come in an itty-bitty size?” He indicated with his hands, and I drew them closer together.

“You’re messing with me.” I nudged him. If anyone understood how big babies were, it was Santa. Over the years he’d delivered enough toys, equipment, and clothes to fill warehouses many times over.

“You forget. I don’t often see the kids I’m delivering to.” He’d mentioned that some children stayed awake all night hoping to surprise Santa. And while some caught a glimpse of his black boots or red hat, he put a forgetful spell on the ones lying in wait under the tree.

Part of the magic of Santa was believing in him, not necessarily having a conversation about their presents.

“Today is the last baby-shopping trip,” I assured him and kissed his brow.

He was so patient with my cravings, my need to have him move the baby’s furniture around the nursery until I decided the bestposition, my complaints about our little one kicking my ribs, and how I couldn’t sleep until I ate a pickle sandwich immediately.

Not surprisingly, my mate wasn’t a big shopper. He was surrounded by an ever-growing pile of toys as the year wore on, as well as lists from the Dear Santa letters. His elves worked feverishly to create the perfect gifts but he himself lived a more spartan life.

Or he had until I turned up. Not that I was a mass consumer who had to buy something to make me feel good. Nope. But I organized our houses—both here in town and at the North Pole—to reflect us, to stamp our personality on our home.

I bribed Chris to drive an hour to the mall where I’d bought his reindeer gift. He’d only agreed when I whispered what was in store for him tonight if he did. There were no disagreements after that, and he leaped into the car, eager to get there and back.

“I should bribe you more often.”

He took one hand from the wheel and placed it on the top of my thigh. My cock stiffened, but I was not getting a hand job in the car or on the side of the road.

“You can bribe me any time, babe.”

I shivered, anticipating the night ahead.

The mall looked very different compared to how it had appeared in December. Now it was decorated in fall colors, and there were Halloween decorations in some of the store windows.

Chris gripped my hand. “Please tell me time hasn’t fast-forwarded and it’s October.”

“Nah. It’s the end of summer, but we can buy easter eggs just after Christmas and spooky toys in August.”

“Whew!”

This was our life now, regulated not so much by the seasons but by how many days or weeks we were from December 24.

For much of the year, we lived in my house, with Chris commuting. He loved his job and his employees, but he needed a break away from toys, toys, and more toys each night and on weekends.

But from early September, he couldn’t leave the North Pole, so I traveled. Not that it was a hardship, as his magic charms transported me instantly.

I studied my list, and Chris followed, holding empty shopping bags that filled up quickly. But as we wandered from store to store, children holding their parents’ hands were watching us. Not in a security guard thinking we were shoplifting kinda way. The opposite. I sensed nothing but love from the kids.

One little girl approached us and shyly whispered, “Thank you,” before scampering back to her dads.

One of her fathers asked his daughter, “Do you know that man?”

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