You know who isn’t a mess? Mr. Santa himself. He’s standing there in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit and a pair of obviously very expensive dress shoes. He’s dressed to impress, and he’s so much hotter than I remember. The blurry candid picture I have on my cell phone doesn’t do him justice. The wavy brown hair is shorter than last year, and not nearly as messy, probably due to not having just spent the entire night having wild monkey sex, but it’s easy to see it’s him. The chocolate brown eyes I’ve seen in my dreams for the last year gaze on me with concern now.
“Miss? Are you alright?”
Shit. I’ve been staring at him while he’s waiting for an answer. Why did I think I could do this? I shove my hand in my pocket and finger the thick envelope I put there earlier, my backup plan giving me courage.
I’ve spent the last three weekends trawling through the various Christmas parties hosted in this hotel. Each night I’d get myself dolled up, make sure Charlie and Gavin had everything they needed to babysit for the evening, kiss Lincoln, then go crash holiday parties looking for a man whose name I didn’t even know. I never thought I’d be the one pulling Santa beards at Christmas parties, but when you’re looking for your baby’s Santa daddy, you do what needs doing. And no, I didn’t do it in front of any kids. I’m not a monster. Of course, the one night I didn’t have time to make myself presentable would be the night that I finally find him. I straighten up and square my shoulders, feigning a confidence I don’t feel.Get it together, Phoebe. You came here for one reason and it wasn’t to win a beauty contest.
I wouldn’t mind if I looked a little less lived-in, though. It turns out that my memories of my Santa’s good looks were inaccurate, but not in the way I’d assumed. I had convinced myself that I’d exaggerated his sex appeal thanks to beer goggles and a spotty memory, but this Adonis standing in front of me has proven that to be a lie. The man is cologne advertisement sexy, the perfect mix of brooding and approachable, gloomy and joyous, mysterious and captivating. And the way he fills out a suit? If the image that flashed through my mind is correct, I’m positive he’s hiding a pair of those sexy V-lines that only exist on men in fitness magazines and firefighter calendars. So yeah, I didn’t exaggerate his looks at all. If anything, I downplayed them. If I’d remembered the truth of it, I would have thought the entire night had been a dream. You know, if not for the whole impregnated-by-Santa thing I had as proof.
Because, seriously, no one should be this good-looking. It’s too distracting, too mesmerizing, too…much.
When I look up, he’s standing right next to me in all his sexy Santa glory.
I look down again, fiddling with the envelope in my pocket some. “I…I don’t know. Wait. What did you say?”
He offers his hand, pulling me up off the floor, sending a riot of tingles flying through me. When he lets go, it takes everything in me not to rub my fingers together to prolong the aftershocks.
“Are you looking for someone from HR? Did I miss you when I was handing out the bonus checks? I’m sure I can have that in your account tomorrow at the latest.”
I shake my head, finally understanding what he’s been saying. He doesn’t recognize me. He thinks I’m an employee. “Oh, no. That’s not it.”
He draws his brows in confusion. “Oh, well, were you looking for someone who came to the party?”
I shake my head. Then nod my head. Then shake it again. Geez, talk about confusing.
The man, my baby’s father, the guy I’ve been looking for at all these Christmas parties, takes in my appearance, looking me up and down. A look of what I’m sure is recognition comes across his face.This is it, Phoebe. He remembers you.All that’s left is for me to tell him. After that, it’s in his hands.
I open my mouth, ready to confess everything, when a voice from the doorway cuts me off.
“Oh, my god. There you are, babe. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A feminine voice calls out from somewhere behind me, and I jump away from the man, guilt gnawing at me. “Who’s your little friend?” She asks, wiggling her fingers in my direction.
One look at the woman who has joined us in the ballroom leaves me breathless. She’s gorgeous. Like walking-down-the-runway-in-her-underwear-with-wings-strapped-to-her-back gorgeous. And it’s obvious she had time to get dolled up before coming here. Not that she needs much to make her look beautiful. Her long legs, lean dancer’s body, delicate features, and long blonde hair take care of that all on their own. Everything else just enhances what she already has.
I cringe when I look down at my spit-up-stained outfit and the messy bun to end all messy buns flops over my forehead. A lump forms in my throat when my mind catches up with what she’s said.
She called him babe.
Ah, shit. My heart drops into my stomach. He has a girlfriend?
The woman is glaring at me for all she’s worth. She looks me up and down, a smirk on her face, and my skin crawls. I don’t think she likes me very much. Not that I can blame her. She caught me standing here making heart eyes at her boyfriend, after all.
Well, I guess I know what I need to do now. Good thing I prepared that backup plan.
I don’t want to out him in front of her. There’s no need to blow up his life in case he decides he wants nothing to do with Lincoln, so I slide the fat envelope out of my pocket and hold it out to him. “Here. I came to give you this. It’s personal, so maybe wait until you’re alone to open it. Read it when you can and get in touch. I’ve included all the, uh, pertinent information.”
He takes it and opens his mouth to say something, but I turn on my heel and run out of that ballroom like my ass is on fire, tears stinging my eyes before I’ve made it out the doors. Luckily, the elevator is still on this floor when I get there, so the doors open as soon as I press the button. I’m slamming my hand on the close door button before my body is inside the cabin, looking behind me the whole time, hoping no one has followed. When the doors finally close, I slump against the wall and release a breath.
Well, that…sucked.
How fucking stupid could I be?
When I imagined meeting Lincoln’s father again, it had somehow never occurred to me he would have a girlfriend. And why would it? I’ve spent the last year growing, birthing, and then caring for a baby. Lincoln kept me so busy that it didn’t even cross my mind to think about relationships.
Looks like the same can’t be said for Lincoln’s dad.
His beautiful girlfriend showed up as I was about to spill my guts. How could I possibly stick around after that? I mean, I should have, but as soon as she arrived, guilt started eating at me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
It isn’t until I’m back home, sitting at the kitchen table alone with a fresh cup of tea, that the disappointment really hits me. It’s not like I’m looking for a relationship or anything—just look how the last one turned out—but somewhere deep down I harbored a tiny feeling of what if?
