Page 5 of Santa Baby
Chapter Four
Kyle keeps giving me the side eye, and I’m trying my level best to ignore him. Or at least pretend that I am. I’m regretting my decision to stay, because with each passing minute, I can feel myself softening. How, after all these years of hardening myself, maintaining a strong, impenetrable wall, can it be crumbling so fast?
It seems unfair that he looks even better than the day I dumped his ass there on the Phi Beta Whatever’s stone steps in front of his douchy frat brothers. It would have been more helpful and pleasing had that jolly fat gut he’s carrying around been the real deal, but I can tell from the thickness of those arms and the way they pull the fabric of the jacket tight that he’s built solid underneath it all.
And he’s great with kids, too.
Total bullshit. I’m angry just sitting here, knowing he’s probably had a nice life filled with more women than he can count, and I’m just...well, I don’t know what I’m doing. Nearly ten years and a bachelor’s degree later, and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. If I did, I sure wouldn’t be working in an office with a guy like Travis roping me into this gig when all I really want to be doing is sitting at home catching up on my soaps.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Kyle bellows as he lifts another little boy onto his knee and holds him steady. “Have you been a good little boy this year?”
The little boy grins, revealing several missing teeth, and says, “Yes, Santa,” in a bashful way that makes my heart swell. I can’t get over how adorable these kids are. Each one seems more special than the last, and maybe it’s the magic of the holiday, or sitting here beside Kyle and all these old feelings getting drummed up that’s doing it, but I swear I can feel my biological clock ticking.
I miss what was said between them, lost in my own little world, but check back in when I hear Kyle addressing me.
“A present for little Joey, Mrs. Claus?” he asks in a way that tells me he’s said this more than once already. We’ve created a bit of a routine: the kids tell him what they want, he pretends to make a note of it, and then I select a gift from under the tree to tide them over until they open their presents in the morning.
I resist rolling my eyes and turn to the tree beside me, scan the remaining packages, and select one covered in shiny, metallic blue paper with a silver ribbon wrapped around all four sides and tied neatly at the top in a bow.
“Here you are, sweetie,” I say, passing it to Joey’s small but capable hands.
His eyes widen with excitement and he thanks us loudly before jumping down off Kyle’s lap and rushing over to his parents who are waiting at the back of the room with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.
I can’t imagine the struggle they’ve been faced with. My heart goes out to them, and I say a silent prayer for Joey to recover from whatever brought him here.
After a few more presents are doled out, we’re down to our remaining kid—a little girl of around seven with a pretty, purple and fuchsia patterned scarf wrapped around her head to disguise that she’s bald underneath. Her skin is pallid, making her freckles stand out, and there are dark circles ringing both golden brown eyes.
Cancer, I think as my stomach drops.
I would expect a kid in her position to be downtrodden with the heavy burden of her illness, but other than the obvious physical indicators, she doesn’t seem sick at all. In fact, the way she bounces up to us and practically jumps into Kyle’s lap scream vitality.
“Hi, Santa! Hi, Mrs. Claus!” she says with all the pep of a cheerleader. I bet she’d make a great one, too.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Kyle says, matching her enthusiasm.
I can’t hide my smile as I watch the two interact like old friends.
“My mom said not to ask for a lot, because you already have so many kids on your list, so all I really want this year is a puppy. I can’t have one right now, of course, because they don’t let puppies in the hospital, which is dumb because puppies make people happy, but I’m getting better, so I can play with him when the doctor says I can go home,” she says rapidly.
“A puppy is a lot of responsibility,” Kyle tells her smartly, and she nods quickly.
“Oh, I know. My uncle had a puppy and he used to let me feed it and even give it a bath sometimes.” Light enters her eyes, and she continues. “It was so cute. I want one just like it!”
Kyle glances at me before looking past the little girl to the couple who I assume to be her parents waiting a few feet away. The father gives a nearly imperceptible nod, and Kyle returns his attention to their daughter.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you promise to take really good, extra special care of it, I promise to do my best.”
The girl bounces in his lap, exuberantly clapping her hands. “Oh yes, yes I will! Thank you, Santa!” Throwing her thin arms around his neck, she squeezes him tightly and then—quite unexpectedly—launches herself at me, giving me the same strong hug.
She’s bounding away before I can process that she’s even left, and as I watch her run into her father’s arms and he lifts her up, I can still feel the tightness of that hug.
It makes me feel warm inside, a ray of happiness and joy that only a child can bring about. I’ve never been the merry type when the holidays roll around, but I feel a bit of it now.
“I love volunteering for these things,” Kyle says, his voice somewhat sad, “but I’ve never gotten used to knowing that some of them won’t make it past their next birthday, let alone waking up on Christmas morning to open their presents.”
Thinking of those little faces I saw in their rooms earlier, those who didn’t make it here to see us, I’m quick to say, “Well, making a difference in their lives for even one day has to count for something. I hope they really did get her that puppy. She’s going to love it.”
Kyle’s expression hardens, and he stands up, picking up his empty satchel and yanking at the drawstrings. Instantly, I’m filled with concern. “That girl is terminal. She’ll be lucky if she makes it to the new year.”