“Should we go say hi to your family?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat, opening my door. I meet Caleb around the back of his car, and he grabs my hand. I look down at our joint fingers. Holding his hand feels exciting and right and wrong all at the same time.
“You okay?”
I whip my head up, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I take a step forward, dragging him with me.
“There’s Summer and Justin.” My mom turns to us. “You guys aren’t going to believe what happened. Christmas is ruined.”
“Janet,” my dad huffs, “Christmas is not ruined.”
“What’s going on?” I glance around.
“Santa and Mrs. Claus aren’t here yet,” Jeff says, nodding toward his kids, playing right behind him. “Their sleigh got stuck in the snow, if you can believe that.”
“Oh, no.” I frown. “What about all the kids coming to sit on Santa’s lap today?”
“Bob’s looking for someone to fill in until the real Santa can get here,” my dad explains.
“I’ll do it.” Caleb shrugs, lifting my hand up with his shoulders.
“You’ll do it?” Anna looks at him like she’s shocked.
“Yeah, Summer and I can be Mr. and Mrs. Claus until the big guy gets here.”
“I don’t look like Mrs. Claus.”
“Oh, come on.” He nudges his shoulder into me. “It’ll be fun.”
My mom walks up to Caleb, placing her hands on his shoulder. “You’ve saved Christmas.”
I roll my eyes. Caleb has Janet Stanworth eating out of the palm of his hand.
* * *
“I think you need a bigger belly.”I stuff another pillow under Caleb’s red Santa jacket and then poke it, testing the squishyness factor.
He pokes my pillow-stuffed chest in response.
My jaw drops, and I twist my body away from him. “You can’t poke Mrs. Claus in the boob.”
“Why not? You poked me in the stomach.”
“I poked a pillow.”
“So did I.”
I tilt my head, giving him a pointed stare. “Are you sure?”
His eyes dart to my chest and the hot dog-shaped pillow I stuffed in that area to fill out the red velvet dress. “Yes, I’m sure. Unless you’ve somehow turned into Dolly Parton in the last ten minutes.”
I walk over to the mirror, taking my first look at myself since I put the white wig and costume on.
Caleb is right behind me. “You look more like Mrs. Doubtfire than Mrs. Claus.”
I hunch over with laughter because his assessment is so true.
“Ho, ho, ho!” he says in his deepest voice, but every time he tries to move his mouth, his fake white beard falls off. “Merry Christmas!”
