‘Well, being a dad is a big responsibility,’ Santa said. ‘What makes you think Quinn is up for the job?’
‘He’s nice to me, reads stories to me with silly voices, he plays games with me, he listens when I talk to him, he buys me books and toys sometimes and sometimes he buys me cakes and sweets. He walks me to school everymorning but pretends that he has to go into town to pick up some metal but it’s because he cares about me and doesn’t want me to get hurt, he also tells me he loves me at the school gates and gives me the best hugs.’
Alex swallowed a lump in her throat.
Santa was smiling. ‘Now those sound like very good dad qualities.’
‘And he makes Mum happy, very happy,’ Zara continued. ‘I think that’s what a dad should do. They need to make mums happy too. That’s important. My real dad used to make my mum cry and now she smiles all the time because she is in love with Quinn and when she smiles and laughs that makes me happy too. I think she needs a new husband as well, so she’s not sad anymore.’
Santa nodded thoughtfully while Alex blushed furiously. He must be used to hearing personal family stories like this one and knew how to deal with them, without interfering in people’s private lives. He was sure to say something like, ‘Well, we’ll have to see what I can do,’ or ‘A new dad is a little beyond Santa’s control.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Quinn, do you want to be Zara’s new dad?’
Alex’s eyes bulged out of her head. Why would he ask that?
But Quinn didn’t even pause before answering. ‘Nothing would make me happier, I love her.’
Zara’s smile grew on her face. ‘And I love you.’
Santa clearly wasn’t done. ‘And would you like to be Alex’s husband?’
How did he know her name?
Quinn nodded. ‘That would make me the happiest man in the world. I love her with everything I have.’
Santa turned to Alex. ‘And do you love Quinn?’
She swallowed. ‘Of course I do. He makes me ridiculously happy.’
Santa turned back to Zara. ‘Well, it might not happen straightaway but it looks like you might get your wish after all.’
‘Yay, thank you Santa,’ Zara said.
‘Umm, yes, thanks,’ Alex said.
‘Did you want to take some photos?’ Santa said, innocently, as if he hadn’t just promised the world to Zara.
‘Yes, thanks,’ Alex said. She took a few photos with her phone and then Immy took the opportunity to have a few photos taken with Jacob sitting next to Santa before they were ushered out the back door.
‘Well, that was… interesting,’ Immy said.
‘I’m getting a new dad for Christmas,’ Zara said. ‘And Mum gets a new husband.’
‘Not for Christmas,’ Quinn was quick to explain. ‘Santa did say it might take a while.’
‘Why would it take a while?’
‘Because adults don’t like to rush into anything,’ Immy said. ‘They like to take the time to make sure something is the right decision before they do it. If they need to buy a new car, they don’t just rush out and buy one that day. They take the time to research which model is the best, they talk to people about their experienceswith the car, they might go and test drive a few before they buy one.’
‘But how can it be a wrong decision?’ Zara said. ‘They love each other, they make each other happy. Are they going to test drive other mums and dads before they make a decision?’
‘Yeah, that might have been a bad analogy,’ Immy muttered.
‘No, we won’t be doing that,’ Alex said. ‘But this is very new for us, so we need time to get used to the idea of living together or getting married.’
She felt like she was protesting against books in a library. Her and Quinn’s love story was already inevitably set in stone. Zara was right, they loved each other, they made each other happy, they knew each other so well; why was she holding back from taking that step with him? She knew this man was her future so what would it take for her to say, yes, I want to get married to you? What was it she was looking for?
Quinn knocked on Tina’s door a short while later as he tried to decide how to play this. He wanted to appeal to her better nature but he wasn’t sure she had one of those. He wanted to protect Alex and he’d do whatever it took to do that.
