Page 107 of Naughty Santa Daddy

And I’m on a mission to put my baby in her.

And,I love her.

All I want is to please Hadley and make her feel good. The way she cries my name when she shatters into a million pieces is like a beautiful song, one I will never tire of hearing.

“Dad?” Amos stretches in my arms. No smile. No twinkling eyes. Not a speck of excitement that Christmas has arrived.

“Merry Christmas,principino mio.”I kiss his head and hold him tightly against my chest to warm him up. “Why were you on the floor?”

His face falls and he shrugs.

Furrowing my brow, I glance at the obscene amount of gifts under the tree. Not all of them are for him. A few are for Hadley, Greta, and my brother.

Gesù,I went overboard again. It’s a challenge not to buy my precious boy everything in the stores. He’s so good and innocent. The best of me. He deserves everything his little heart desires.

However, the dozens of gifts, beautifully wrapped, seem to mean nothing to him.

“Is something wrong,piccolino? Are you not excited for Christmas?”

He shakes his head.

“No? Why not?”

“Santa isn’t real.”

“What? Not real?” My eyebrows shoot up. Where is this coming from? “Why do you say that?”

“I just know. You put the gifts under the tree. You ate the cookies and drank the milk. And your favorite whiskey.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

Actually, Hadley drank the milk. I’m lactose intolerant. And I haven’t drank it since I was a child. Never really cared for it.

“Amos, you know I don’t like milk. And Santa is real,figlio.”

He sits up on my lap and scans the room as if searching for something, then shakes his head. This disappointment on his face makes my chest tighten. Had I missed something on his list? I’m sure I got everything, but maybe not.

My ears dial into movement upstairs. Probably Greta getting ready to prepare a grand breakfast for us. Lord knows it will take hours to open up all these presents.

Cazzo!How could I buy into the commercialism of Christmas again? Every year I tell myself to do things differently, but do I? No.Cazzo,I should know better!

My son’s never been a gift person; his love language is quality time. Greta has told me this since he was a toddler. Her words come back to me,“I am not enough for him. He needs his father, especially after losing his mother.”

A sharp pain spears through my heart. My work takes me away from Amos a lot, and the guilt crushes me; hence all the things I buy him to try and compensate for my absence. But what Amos wants and truly needs, is a whole family, complete with a mom and a sibling.

“Why do you say no?” I’m so curious about what’s put him in a sad mood on what’s to be the happiest day of the year.

“Because he didn’t bring me a—”

“What’s this I see? Two early birds, maybe.” Hadley’s sweet voice comes from behind us. “Merry Christmas, my loves.” Her arms wrap around us, and she kisses us on the head. Instantly, my heart doesn’t hurt. She’s like a healing balm to my brokensoul. Perhaps she’ll be the same for Amos. I’m certain she will be because nothing has felt more right… in a very long time.

“Merry Christmas,bellissima.”I take her hand and kiss the top of it, then nudge Amos.

“Merry Christmas, Hadley,” he says in a quiet voice, his gaze locked on the Christmas tree in front of us.

She comes around the couch, concern marring her pretty face. Just as I hoped, she found the red silk pajamas and robe I left on the bed for her. And the cringy fuzzy socks Greta told me to get—because women apparently love fuzzy holiday socks.

There were so many patterns. I couldn’t decide which ugly ones to buy. All were ridiculous, in my opinion. Dogs or gnomes dressed as Santa, some had gingerbread, others had snowmen and snowflakes. Naturally, I bought every pair. Interestingly, she’s wearing the gingerbread ones and looks good enough to eat… and I will gobble her up later.

Hadley

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