Page 9 of Santa Baby

“Mmm, just like my mom used to make,” he says, his tone mocking as he rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “In like, second grade.”

I curl my lip at him. “There’s something to be said about the classics. What can I do for you, Travis? We’ve already established none of my shoes will ever fit you.”

He huffs. “You don’t have style enough for my wardrobe. Anyway, I was going to ask you if you wanted to walk down to the deli with me and grab lunch together, but there’s no topping bologna sandwiches.”

“With cheese,” I inform him. Travis has been trying to get me to go to lunch with him since I started here, and I have yet to accept the invite. I know he’s just looking for a friend, but frankly, I’d rather stick a pencil in my eye.

“If you were a man, you’d be a woman after my own heart,” he says with a wide grin, and it worries me that I actually understand what he’s trying to say. Straightening, he grips the top of the wall, his expression intense. “Actually, aside from lunch, I was popping by to let you know you have a visitor in the lobby.”

I’ve just sunken my teeth into the sandwich when he says this, so I quickly chew and swallow, asking with surprise, “I do?”

Travis doesn’t appear his irritatingly chipper self, I note. “Yeah, tall”—he raises a hand a couple inches above his head to indicate how tall—“dark hair, all business, kinda stuffy looking. Super-hot though.”

I frown down at the floor, thinking. I don’t have a lot of friends or acquaintances, and those I do have don’t fit the description.

“I told him I’d send you out.”

“Hmm, okay. Thanks,” I tell him. Setting my partially eaten lunch aside, I push to my feet. For some reason, I feel nervous.

Travis is right behind me as I wend my way through the maze of cubicles. “So, who is this gentleman caller? Brother? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t have either of those,” I inform him.

“Oh, awesome,” he says, deflating. “I hope it’s not legal trouble then? He looks like a suit.”

“No trouble that I know of,” I say, praying I’m right. The one time I got pulled over was for a broken taillight and I legit thought I was going to have a heart attack. My whole life flashed before my eyes, and I envisioned spending a solid ten to life behind bars with a girlfriend named Bertha. To say I’m a nervous Nancy would be an understatement.

“I wonder who it is then,” Travis muses.

“No idea,” I mutter, wishing he’d just back off. Travis likes me—that’s obvious. He’s also entirely too nosey for my liking. Nice as he is, it’s a major turnoff.

As we approach the smoky-glass double door separating the office from reception, I see the man Travis must be talking about waiting in one of the chairs just beyond it, and my heart beats double-time, recognizing the figure instantly.

My feet stop moving and I stand there, staring, trying to decide my next move.

“He said he had something of yours, but he refused to leave it at the desk,” Travis says, reminding me he’s still here. “Wanted to deliver it personally.”

The statement raises my ire, and I resist snapping at him or giving him a good shove. That information would have been appreciated five minutes ago. All of the pieces of the puzzle would have fallen into place in an instant and I could have prepared myself for this.

As it stands now, I’m two seconds away from a panic attack, maybe hyperventilating. I hope someone in this place has smelling salts, because I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.

My mom’s voice is in my ear, alongside Bianca’s, telling me to get out there and take a chance. For once in my life, stop being so damn hardheaded.

I remember that kiss, the way Kyle looked at me in that hospital, the magic and warmth of the multi-colored Christmas lights surrounding us...

Then I start thinking about all the years we spent at each other’s side, the fun we had together, the warmth and the laughter and the love we shared.

A pang of longing hits me square in the chest, combined with loss and need and love...so much love.

I force myself to take those last few steps and push open the door, and as Kyle’s head turns and those blue eyes find mine, I feel the past hurt and anger slipping away.

I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want to dwell on the hurt and negativity. I want...

Him.

I just want him.

Standing, Kyle’s smile is bright, hopeful, but hesitant. “Sunny,” he says as he meets me halfway.