“Probably a good idea.” I walk around the vehicle and open her door, holding a hand out to help her in. When she places her fingers in mine, those tingles flare to life again.That can’t be my imagination. Not this time. “You ready to go to the North Pole?”
She snorts a laugh. “As long as Santa doesn’t get me pregnant this time, I’m ready for anything.”
My stomach drops as I force a chuckle and close the door. “He better not get you pregnant,” I mutter. “I’m the only Santa who gets to do that.” Not that I’m trying to get her pregnant. But I’d prefer no one else got the chance yet.Or ever.
When I get into the driver’s seat, I sneak a glance and notice Phoebe is once again blushing, which I’m taking as a positive sign. Maybe she’s thinking about the Santa who knocked her up in the first place, and if she’s thinking about it now, maybe I can get her to think about it again.
I like that plan.
Because no matter how much I know I should stay away from her, I desperately want to get to know her better, like Lincoln said. Well, like I imagined Lincoln said when he was babbling to me earlier.
“I can’t get over you going to the fire department. That’s…” Shit. She thinks I’m a terrible provider for getting someone else to do something that I should have done on my own. I guess I could have, but it seemed like a better idea to have one of the trained car seat technicians at the fire house teach me how to do it properly. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep Lincoln safe. “Genius,” she finishes. “Do you know how many video tutorials I watched before I was confident enough to install my seat? And that wasafterreading the manual at least fifty times. The fire department? I wish I’d thought of that.”
I chuckle, releasing a nervous breath. She doesn’t think less of me for outsourcing the car seat install. It’s almost too bad she put my mind at ease because now that I’m not worried about that, thoughts of being the Santa who gets her pregnant come flooding in again. Does Lincoln need a little brother or sister?Get it together, Archer. Now’s not the time for ridiculous daydreams.
“I can’t take credit,” I say, starting the car and maneuvering out of the driveway before turning us toward the local farmer’s market. “MaeLynn made the appointment and forced me to go. She deserves all the accolades.”
I can see Phoebe’s smile out of the corner of my eye. “I like her,” she says. “She seems nice.”
I nod. “She’s the best. I couldn’t make it without her.” I could leave that statement as it is, without further explanation, but I think the mother of my child deserves to know a little more about me. “MaeLynn worked for my father as his assistant before I took over the company. She’s always been like a mother to me, probably more than my own.” I blow out a breath. “My mother isn’t exactly what I would call maternal. I’m sure you noticed MaeLynn is, though.”
“You can say that again.” She chuckles. “I still can’t believe I let her walk off with Lincoln not two minutes after I met her.” She blows out a noisy breath. “Wanna know something? For the longest time, I was too nervous to have anyone but my immediate family watch him. Even that was hard. It’s been a lot better since I talked to my doctor about postpartum anxiety. It’s amazing what some time spent talking with a counselor and taking anti-anxiety medication can do.”
I do a double-take. “Really? At the lab, you passed him off to me like it was nothing.”
She laughs. “That’s got to be one of the top five funniest things I’ve ever seen,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s right up there with Lincoln peeing on you and then throwing up all over you not five minutes later.” She snorts out another laugh. “It’s a good thing he didn’t really have it in for you, though, or you’d have gotten pooped on that day, too.”
I force a nervous laugh. That has to be a joke, right? There’s no way poop travels fast enough to make it out of a diaper and clothing. Nah. I’m sure I’ve seen the worst of it when it comes to being covered in the bodily fluids of babies.
She snorts a giggle, and I grin. Even though it’s usually at my expense because of my lack of baby knowledge, I love hearing her laugh.
Chapter 25
Kris Kringle Is Kranky
Phoebe
“Thisissopretty.”The Santa set-up in the Westborough farmer’s market is like a woodland fairytale come to life. There’s a spot for Santa to sit on a wooden bench surrounded by trees draped in twinkle lights and the effect is much more in tune with nature than your standard North Pole display at a mall. I smile up at Archer, who’s holding Lincoln close. “I love it.”
“I wish I could take credit,” he says with a grin. “But this was MaeLynn’s suggestion. She brings her grandkids here because she thinks it doesn’t encourage as much blatant consumerism as a regular mall Santa experience.”
I look around the display and notice the distinct lack of packaged gifts or references to a toy shop of any kind and realize he’s right. This place is pure magic.
“Yeah, she definitely gives the impression that she’s a smart woman.”
“Really smart,” he says, turning to address Lincoln. “She’s the reason we’re here early enough to be first in line. We’ll keep you on your nap schedule yet.”
Lincoln giggles and grabs Archer’s mouth, and then Archer pretends to eat his hand. He may not have known how to hold him the first time, but he seems so natural with Lincoln now it’s hard to imagine he doesn’t already have a houseful of kids at home. It’s like he was made to be an honest-to-goodness family man.
That tightening in my chest can’t be jealousy, though, right? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it is. I’m so jealous I could look in a mirror right now and it wouldn’t surprise me to see I was turning green. His girlfriend is a lucky woman.
I don’t have long to linger over my jealousy, though, because I hear someone calling my name from nearby.
“Phoebe? Is that you?”
I haven’t heard that voice other than on the phone in a long while, but for most of my life, until around this time last year, I heard it every single day. I could never forget it. I spin to see Webster Day smiling down at me with his perfect smile. We’ve spoken often since our ill-fated non-wedding day, but I haven’t seen him in person since then. He looks as perfect as always. He’s styled his bright blond hair with the perfect amount of tousling, and even his jeans look like they’ve been freshly pressed. Amazingly, it doesn’t hurt to see him as much as I thought it would. It’s like coming home, and I can’t stop the smile from crossing my face at the sight of him.
“Hi, Webster.”
