Page 105 of Sexted By Santa
So, I’d slept. Ortried,anyway.
Now, I had to face Jaxson, Tori—and a room full of children waiting to see Santa—with a belly full of guilt and anxiety rather than Christmas cheer.
At least my beard was neatly trimmed. I tried out a smile, and it looked ghastly. “Ho, ho, ho,” I said flatly to the mirror. “Merry Christmas.”
Despite my flagging spirits, I’d made a promise to deliver gifts to children on the pediatric floor of the hospital, and I intended to keep it. I’d let enough people down lately. Besides, they all deserved a little Christmas magic, as Tori would have called it.
I drained the last of my coffee in the hope of a caffeine boost, adjusted my furry coat, and picked up my red velvet bag containing the gifts donated by Aunt Henry’s charitable foundation. I’d left my phone on the bedside table, but I hadn’t been brave enough to look at it this morning.
Jaxson most likely had kept up his silence, which was statement enough. And if he had answered, I was afraid of what he might have to say. What if he told me to stay away? I had no intention of doing that. I felt terrible about the mistakes I’d made, but I needed to see Tori for myself. Needed to see that she was okay.
I realized now that I never should have left the night before. My judgment had been clouded by guilt. And there was a part of me, a small part, that might have even been waiting for our relationship to crumble. It had been too good, too important to me. Fitting into Jaxson and Tori’s lives had come so easily and naturally that I’d kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it had, I’d been too quick to accept that the worst had happened. That I’d failed again.
And maybe I had. Maybe Jaxson wouldn’t forgive me.
But whatever happened, I wanted Jaxson and Tori to know how much they meant to me. If I lost them, it wouldn’t be because I jumped ship at the first sign of trouble.
I left my phone at home. If Jaxson wanted to tell me it was over, he’d have to tell me in person. At least, then, I could see his eyes, see if there was any hope at all as I pleaded for his forgiveness.
Pediatrics was on the second floor. Now that I was decked out in my Santa gear and signed in as a volunteer, I could access the floor. I checked with the nurses’ desk to get Tori’s room number, then walked briskly down the hall, heart racing. But as I neared her door, fear of what might come next nearly paralyzed me.
I’d debated waiting until after my Santa visit in the children’s playroom—if Jaxson kicked me out, I was going to be the most depressed Santa in history—but I simply couldn’t concentrate on anything else until I saw Tori again.
I forced my feet to take those final steps and peeked through the doorway.
My gaze swept the room. No Jaxson. Other than a coat on the back of a chair and a pile of Christmas gifts, there was no sign of him. Tori was in the hospital bed, with the back raised so that she could sit. A hospital table was extended over her lap, but she wasn’t eating. She was working on some kind of art project with an intense expression of concentration.
Relief swept through me at the sight. Her color was much better, and she was no longer hooked up to oxygen. IVs still led from her arm to bags suspended above her, but she seemed awake and alert.
“Knock-knock,” I said lightly. “Do you have a minute for Santa?”
Tori looked over, her face brightening. “You’re finally here!”
I cringed internally. “I wouldn’t miss Christmas morning with my favorite girl.”
She smiled, but I could see a weariness that wasn’t usually present. She was usually full of energy, bouncing and moving.
“Daddy brought me presents.” She pointed. “But I said I didn’t want to open them without you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
She nodded, wrinkling her nose. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas here anyway.”
“I can understand that.” I swung my bag over my shoulder. “Maybe you’ll consider opening just one gift from Santa though?”
She giggled. “Maybe.”
I withdrew one of the gifts. Because we couldn’t possibly know exactly which children would be in the hospital on Christmas Day, they were intended to work for anyone. I handed Tori a square package about three inches thick.
“Merry Christmas.” I said solemnly as I handed it to her.
“Thank you, Santa.”
“I want to apologize,” I added. “I’m so sorry you got so sick yesterday before I realized something was wrong. I should have taken better care of you.”
Tori’s eyes went wide. “No, don’t apologize. Didn’t Daddy tell you what happened?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk much,” I said carefully.
