Something suspiciously like my biological clock began ticking somewhere in my belly.
No, no, no, no.
I was not about to go looking for a new relationship just because I wanted kids. I was twenty-eight. I still had time. I had promised myself that I would work on me and not worry about being in a relationship.
I looked up at the big, red velvet throne. Santa had arrived, and the line began to slowly move.
My damned biological clock pulsed inside my belly as I watched kids sit in Santa’s lap and look up at him in wonder. Even the ones who screamed their fool heads off seemed cute to me.
Aubrey, I swear you are the hottest of messes.
Yeah, well, I was a hot mess with a tire that still needed to be changed and a summons to jury duty. That was more than enough adulting for anyone.
Although…jury duty would get me away from Isaac. That was something to consider.
We inched our way through unrolled cotton that was supposed to be snow and past candy canes that served as queue markers. With five more family units to go, those pesky reindeer needed to be fed again so Santa ambled off for a well-deserved break.
“Could you please hold my spot in line?” the mother in front of me asked. “I really need to change her diaper.”
The cutie I’d earlier been making faces with had woken up with a scowl. I had no choice but to say, “Absolutely.”
The mother left her stroller in front of me but then took anything of value. I wanted to be offended at the implication that I might steal anything of hers, but what did I know about babies? Maybe she needed all of those accoutrements.
I shifted from foot to foot. Good thing I’d taken the day off because this errand was taking forever. In front of me, a husband appeared with a Starbucks cup. He opened his arms for their baby; his wife took the coffee.
I felt such a pulse of longing.
Cole would be the kind of husband to bring you coffee and then hold the baby.
My face flushed there in the line to see Santa. Where in heaven’s name had that thought come from? Cole and I could hardly share a house without getting irritated with each other. He was so not my type.
Yes, because your type has worked out so well in the past.
The mother in front of me returned and thanked me profusely as she settled the baby in the stroller and stored her diaper bag and purse and such.
“Hey!” said the woman behind me. “No cutting!”
I turned around. “She didn’t cut in line. She’s been here the whole time. She just had to change the baby’s diaper.”
“You’re lying.”
“No,” I said. “I promise. I watched the stroller for her.”
The harried woman behind me had a child swinging on each arm. Her face grew progressively redder. “Well, we should get to go first because we didn’t leave the line.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I sputtered while the mother in front of me said, “Go ahead. I’ve only got one child.”
That, of course, meant one more family between me and Santa, but I bit my tongue. I might be having a run of bad luck, but I was going to take it with some grace, dammit.
Santa returned, but something about him seemed…off.
Sure enough, when I finally got up there, he wasn’t the same Santa. His beard was too blonde. I looked from him to the elf photographer and back. She sourly asked, “Are you getting your picture taken or not?”
“Yeah! Hurry up. Some of us have kids,” someone said from the line that had wound its way back to the pretzel place.
“Ho ho ho, what do you want for Christmas, little girl?”
I sat down tentatively and smiled for the picture before saying, “I want to be taken off the Not So Nice list.”
