Page 79 of Sexted By Santa
“I would!”
“Don’t get any ideas,” I warned her. “Even if Christian’s dog visits sometimes, it doesn’t mean you’re going to get one of your own.”
She pouted. “I know. You’re too mean to let me have a pet.”
I rolled my eyes. The little drama queen. “I’m too nice to have a pet when I work too much to take proper care of it.”
She pulled a face. “I wish you’d stop working so much.”
“If only the world worked that way.” I’d already booked myself two Door Dash shifts to supplement my pay to help with the expense of Christmas. “Bills don’t pay themselves.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Presents don’t buy themselves either,” I pointed out.
Watching Tori talk to Santa that day had only reminded me that I was still short on presents and cash. Tori would not be happy about the extra work I was taking on, but at least with the food delivery work, I could take her with me.
She perked up. “Okay, I do want presents. But after Christmas, you should definitely work less.”
I laughed. “After Christmas, I probably will.”
* * *
Monday morning came too soon—especially after Christian remained late, once again talking and cuddling on the couch after Tori went to bed, this time with Sir Elton John curled up between us like a miniature chaperone.
Given Christian’s level of temptation, I was glad for the buffer even if it did mean more sexual frustration. And Tori and Sir Elton had seemed equally thrilled to have a playmate for a couple of hours before she reluctantly went off to bed.
Now, as I headed to work—dread replaced my morning grogginess.
I could no longer put off talking to Doris about my childcare dilemma. I shouldn’t have left it so late, but I’d been hoping one of my other fallback plans would come through. Unfortunately, Madison’s family was traveling out of state for the holidays, and none of the additional childcare centers I’d tried had openings at such late notice. There was nothing left but to cross my fingers and hope Doris would let me bring Tori to work with me.
When I arrived at Friendly Hands, I clocked in and picked up the charts for the early risers. Some would need assistance dressing while others were more independent. Some I’d have to question about their nighttime and morning bathroom habits. Each patient required a different level of care.
Margaret was in an armchair, dressed in a robe, when I tapped on her door. “Knock-knock? How are you this morning?”
She brightened. “Ready for some intelligent conversation.”
“And breakfast?”
Her stomach grumbled on cue, and we both laughed.
“I could do with some toast and tea,” she admitted. “Especially if you join me.”
“You’re a flirt,” I scolded.
She grinned unapologetically. “Well, someone has to appreciate you. You’ve been raising that little girl all on your own.” She clucked. “You deserve someone who will treat you right, the way you treat us.”
It was a consequence of the job that the residents knew a fair amount about my life. They all craved conversation and connection, and maybe I had too. A lot of the time, they were my primary contact with other adults.
That wasn’t true anymore, I realized as I walked Margaret to the dining hall. There was Christian now—transitioning from fake date to real boyfriend with more ease than I might have expected. Though it’d been a short time, he’d been a steady presence since we decided to try out a relationship. I appreciated that despite his initial fears, he seemed to have taken the commitment seriously—as well as my need to make Tori a priority.
“I’m glad you think I do right by you,” I told Margaret. “But I might not be so alone anymore.”
“Oh.” Her eyes brightened. “There’s someone special in your life?”
“It’s still new, but yeah…I think so.”
Margaret was full of questions, and I indulged her in one or two, but other residents needed me. I left her to her breakfast and moved on to the next resident, and the next, going through the charts for each and helping them start their day.
