Page 115 of Santa Daddies

I was breathless by the time we all straightened from the final curtsies the girls performed and Henry’s low bow. Though I had to take deep breaths to suck in oxygen, that didn’t keep me from gasping, “Well…?”

“You’re not going to believe it,” Emma said, grabbing my hand and pulling.

“It’s so awesome,” Chloe said, capturing Emma’s other hand even as I took Henry’s.

“They’re right,” Henry declared, reaching for Jenna’s after she’d snagged Dawn’s. “Let me just say that the proliferation of porky pig partygoers is only outnumbered by the gregarious and gracious Gem guests who have gathered to give most generously to grossly grow the gift-giving capacity as they galivanted to grab their very own precious peppermint pig!”

I stared in awe and then burst into laughter. “That’s awesome, Henry! How long did it take you to come up with that?”

“A while,” he said with a grin. “I’ve been practicing.”

“I’d say,” Grant confirmed as he joined the group. “I swear he’s been muttering every single word that began with either a ‘P’ or a ‘G’ to his piggie audience ever since the night he first adopted his own little porkers.”

“Wait, every night? You’re saying you haven’t already eaten them all?” I honestly was pretty impressed. While Detective Williamson was known for his constraint in jumping to anyconclusion before its time, Little Henry most definitely wasn’t one known to have any willpower when it came to all things sweet.

“Of course I ate them.” Henry rolled his eyes. “Daddy just bought me new ones every day.”

“Every day!” five Little girls chorused as we all just gaped at him.

“Good grief, how can you pig out on piggies and not gain an ounce?” Jenna asked.

Henry shrugged and then grinned as he looked over at his Daddy. “Let’s just say I’m kept to a rather rapturous and regular rigorous and righteously rugged routine.”

Laughter bubbled from all of us as we snaked our way through the mass of people and through the door that led to the inner sanctum of Gem.

“Oh, wow!” I halted yet again in order to simply take it all in.

Streamers draped from the high ceiling overhead where hundreds of balloons filled with helium floated. They looked like giant Christmas ornaments as they shifted on the current of the air. Inflated golden stars danced among them, but when Jenna pointed straight up, I craned my head back and gasped at the blinking red light.

“It’s Rudolph!”

“And Dasher and Dancer…”

“Prancer and Vixen…”

“Comet and Cupid…”

“Donner…”

“And Blitzen!” Henry finished the list we all shared in citing.

It was true. Rudolph and his blinking red nose led four pairs of life-size reindeer lined up in perfect rows, each joined to the next by red velvet reins decorated with silver bells and green holly. I followed the line until it ended in a huge sleigh that held… nothing.

“Where’s Santa?”

“Who knows?” Jenna said. “He hasn’t shown up yet.”

“But everyone else has,” Chloe noted as she waved an arm to include the partygoers.

I was overwhelmed. We’d sent out a lot of invitations, but until this actual moment, I hadn’t been truly positive that people would attend. Not that seeing people in the club was an unexpected sight. Every time Daddy and I played here, it was among other members but tonight wasn’t any other night.

It was one that meant so much to me that my inner self had been terrified I’d be disappointing not only my Daddy and my friends, but all the foster children I wanted to help have the very best Christmas they could. As they said, I’d been there, done that, and I knew what it was like to be frightened and alone. To be so worried that no one cared I even existed. The courts had taken me out of a very abusive situation, terminating the parental rights of my parents when I was six years old. It had become a little better a year later once I’d met Jenna who’d lost her mother to drug addiction and had no relatives willing to raise her.

She was also seven and we’d become inseparable. Even at such a young age, we’d each felt as if we’d been separated at birth and decided that we had to be twins. When other foster kids pointed out we looked nothing alike, we simply stated that only meant we were even more special. But still, living in foster care wasn’t a choice any child would make without a very, very good reason. So, the moment I’d found my forever home, I’d been doubly blessed when my new parents had recognized that I’d never feel truly free to love them if I had to leave my twin and very best friend behind. They’d adopted Jenna as well and we’d become closer than a great many blood-twin sisters were.

Our first Christmas as a family, Jenna and I had pinkie-promised that as long as we lived, we’d do everything we could tomake life at least a little better for those children still waiting for their own forever families.

“Don’t cry,” Chloe said, but it was too late. Tears streamed down my face, but they matched the ones coursing down Jenna’s.