Page 122 of Merging Wright

Mach suddenly stands behind me. His hand comes to my head, stroking over my hair.

He squats beside us. “What are my girls talking about?”

It’s dangerous that he calls us his. Dangerous for my heart. Dangerous to my hopes.

“Santa.” I emphasize his name with the excitement it should entail. “Willow was about to give me her Christmas wish list.”

“Have you been naughty or nice this year, baby girl?” Mach teasingly pokes Willow in the belly.

I tug Willow into my side. “Of course, she’s been an angel.”

“Mommy and Daddy are angels now.”

Tears immediately prickle at the back of my eyes, and I rapidly blink them away. When did I get so emotional?

Mach’s hand moves to my nape, tenderly squeezing me.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” I say, attempting to keep my voice steady. “They’re watching over you. Protecting you.”

Willow nods. “That’s what Stella and Miss Camilla say.”

“They’re both wise women.” Mach glances at Willow’s innocent face before giving me a warm smile. “But Jane here is the wisest of them all. So why don’t you tell her what you want for Christmas. I bet she has a special in with the man in red.”

I love how Mach is playing along. And my heart grows three sizes inside my chest. Hope, silly hope, fills in behind my ribs.

“Santa isn’t—”

I quickly cover Willow’s mouth, leaning toward her with a fake scowl.

She giggles into my palm.

Mustering an ominous tone, I warn her, “We can’t say it, or he won’t visit us. You have to believe.”

Mach emphatically nods. This man.

Willow continues to toy with the collar of my shirt. Looking at my chin, she speaks. “I’d like a dollhouse.”

“I had a dollhouse when I was a kid.” An image of something feminine and pink, and full of fun furniture and a family fills my thoughts.

Mach chuckles. “I bet you did.”

“And do you need dolls to live in the house?”

Willow nods.

“Who do you need?”

“A mommy and a daddy and a little girl. A family.”

I chew my lower lip, fighting the ache in my chest as I hold onto this little girl. Dear Santa, I wish I could give her everything she wants. Her dreams are the same as mine in some ways.

“Sounds wonderful, baby girl,” Mach offers. He swipes a hand over her head, brushing back her wayward hair, and she smiles at him. Sweet, shy. She’s crushing on Mach. I don’t blame her.

He’s watching me, and I give him my own timid grin. Turning back to Willow, I say, “Maybe you should write a letter to Santa. We can mail it and see what happens.”

Willow shrugs, still disbelieving in the innocence of Christmas.

“Willow?” Stella sticks her head into the future store. She lightly chuckles as she enters. “Man, this child can escape me in a blink.”