Home.
The word still feels a little strange in my mouth, but it fits better every time I say it.
I push open the door to our residence, warmth and the scent of pine wrapping around me like a hug. Nick's in the living room, sprawled in his favorite chair near the fire. Aurora is on a blanket nearby, surrounded by toys that glow with soft magic. She's babbling at a wooden reindeer that's actually moving, prancing in circles while she claps her hands.
My daughter. Not quite a year old, growing just the way she should, if you ignore the part where her toys float when she laughs, or how she can make it snow in the living room when she's especially pleased with herself.
You know, just normal baby stuff.
Nick looks up when I enter, and his whole face transforms. That smile, the one that's just for me, never fails to make my heart skip.
"Hey, darlin'," he says, opening his arms.
I don't even think about it. I cross the room and settle into his lap, his arms wrapping around me like they've always belonged there. He's solid and warm, and I let myself melt into him, breathing in the scent of pine and something that just means home.
"Is this where I tell Santa what I want because I've been a good girl?" I ask, tilting my head to look at him.
His eyes darken, that familiar heat sparking to life. "Have you been a good girl, Samantha?"
"You usually tell me I've been a good girl at least once a day," I say innocently. "So you tell me."
Nick actually blushes. The same man who stared down demons and angels without flinching, who could probably snap his fingers and change the world, goes pink because of me.
I love him so much it borders on embarrassing.
Before he can respond, Aurora lets out a cry. Not upset, just hungry. I know that particular sound intimately by now.
I sigh, reluctantly extracting myself from Nick's lap. "Duty calls."
"Story of my life," he says, but he's smiling.
I scoop Aurora up, settling back onto the couch with her. She latches on immediately, her tiny hand resting against my chest. Her eyes, blue like Nick's, drift half-closed as she nurses.
I could watch her for hours. This impossible, perfect little person we somehow managed to make.
"Actually," I say, glancing at Nick, "I wanted to talk to you about something."
Nick leans back in his chair, that knowing look settling over his features. "Uh oh. This sounds troubling."
He doesn't sound the least bit worried. If anything, he sounds like he's enjoying himself.
"Have you noticed how Ella and Everett have been circling each other?"
"Do you mean have I noticed that today Everett made another elf cry because he thought that elf made Ella mad?"
I sit up so fast I almost jostle Aurora. "Wait, what?"
Nick laughs, the sound rich and warm. "You look like you just sat down for the world's best gossip session."
"Nick. Don't hold out on me."
He's grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. "Careful, Mrs. Kringle. I might have to cite you for naughty behavior for being a gossip hound."
"Nick. Spill."
He laughs again, shaking his head. "Fitzgerald questioned whether Ella's plan to have the elves meet every Tuesday for team building was necessary. That upset Ella, who didn't exactly storm off, but it was pretty apparent she wasn't happy. I have it on good authority that Everett pulled him aside when Ella was out of earshot and told him that the next time he had a thought about anything concerning Ella, to clear it through him before actually speaking it out loud."
My eyes go wide. "Nick, is he in lo?—"
