Page 4 of Longing for More
Though, I should have known better than to think my girl would have listened to me when I suggested the prospect of her sitting on Santa’s lap. In her eyes, I was just a strange man, filling the role of dear Mr. Clause to a bunch of children, who probably hated my job.
The position was meant for a grunt most of the time. Those in infantry rankings often got the short end of the stick—including having to wear the smelly costumes.
I wouldn’t have trusted sitting on any of their laps, either.
It was also a job, at the end of the day, in many people’s eyes.
A job, even if the community welcomed it with far more open arms than the average deployment or base station task. And regardless of how much I knew Aspen was struggling today—wishing I was by her side, even as I watched her from afar—I knew that the Christmas and holiday spirit had her in a firmgrasp and she didn’t want to deal with anyone who considered anything about Christmas as a job.
She could pout to me in her text messages all she wanted, but I watched as she floated around with a happy smile on her face—playing games with all of the little kids, helping with the face-painting activities, and making sure everyone was happy.
Aspen wanted Christmas to be festive, merry, and bright.
It was the entire reason I had been in town for two days now, and yet still hadn’t popped up to surprise her just yet. Instead, I had been staying with my best friend and team member, Lucas, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise her and take her home.
To cherish my girl.
And probably to fuck the brains out of her, too.
She assumed I had returned to the stationed base from my mission, since I was able to text her more than usual, but she had no idea that I was no longer in another country, let alone in the same room as her.
Was it considered stalking if you did it with good intentions? Even if it was your girlfriend?
I wanted to make her Christmas everything she wanted it to be, and if waiting until my skin was hot and itchy in need to claim my girl again was the way to do it, then so be it.
Even if the Santa suit I was wearing truly was in need of a dry cleaning service.
“Santa?” a child’s voice spoke softly, bringing my gaze down to her crystal blue eyes. She wore little elf ears, sticking up straight behind a reindeer headband as her mother stood to her left. They even wore matching sweaters, with green and white cross-stitched reindeer dancing across the hem happily.
A pang hit my heart at the sight of them.
Fuck, I wanted to gift my girl a child more than anything. I wanted to be a dad.
Fucking infertility.
Pushing the thought to the wayside, as I had tried to do the entire night, I focused back on the little girl in front of me. “Ho-ho-ho!” I forced out, trying to sound older than I was. “Merry Christmas! How are you today, sweet girl?”
A little blush flitted across her face as she giggled. “I’m good! I really like this place. Mommy said I could go get a reindeer painted on my face after I talked to you!”
“Oh, did she, now? Well, what are you waiting for? Why don’t you come tell me what you’d like for Christmas, and then we can get our picture taken!”
With another bright giggle, she shimmied her way next to me, choosing to sit next to me rather than on my lap.
Kids were funny like that.
I continued, looking right at her and trying to ignore the way another brief blip of sadness hit me as I did so. And how the faux beard on my face was fucking itchy. “What’s your name, sweet girl? How old are you?”
“Lucy! And I’m…” She looked down at her fingers, counting them with a concentrated glower before turning back towards me. “Six!”
I smiled through my beard. “Ahhh, Lucy! I do believe I remember seeing you on my nice list. It is so lovely to officially meet you in person,” I said, offering her my hand to shake. My heart melted as one of her small hands could only grab three of my own fingers. The size difference was as cute as it was laughable. “What are you wanting for Christmas, dear Lucy? I’m sure you’ve sent a letter—but sometimes, my elves are definitely a little swamped, so I like to ask again, anyways.”
Her smile faded slightly, and I knew what was coming before she uttered the words herself. She wasn’t the first kid to say something along the same lines tonight. “I want my dad to come home soon.”
I turned my gaze away from her and towards her mother, who covered her mouth with a balled-up fist as her tears flit through her eyes. Even more sadness struck me—though, for this woman and her daughter now, more than my own wishes. I forced myself to swallow roughly.
Someone had to be strong for them.
As an E-7 Sergeant First Class, this was nothing out of the ordinary. My team and I had been on a mission for the last four months, stationed in Afghanistan, and I was only in charge of four Marines out of the thousands in the force. Loved ones went months without seeing each other, often.