Step-Santa - A Stepbrother Forbidden Romance

But we are not alone.

Winter, Crystal, and my father all stare at me like I’ve grown antlers.

“Sit down, both of you. We need to talk,” my father says, commanding all the attention in the room. Is he going to address what I said to Winter, or ignore it?

I take a seat next to Winter on the small couch. “What is it?” I ask when I can no longer take the suspense.

“We don’t know how to tell you both this, but we’re getting a divorce,” my father says, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s nothing anyone did or said. Crystal and I are very fond of each other, and we have love for each other, but we may have jumped the gun.”

Winter rises and hugs her mom, who assures her she’s fine.

“I’ll be honest,” Winter says, “I’m a little shocked.”

“I’m not,” I say, standing and pacing the room. “This is just like you, Dad. Now you’ve gone and hurt Crystal and made the Snow name fodder for gossip once again.”

Sounds harsh, but my father is notorious for being the child in the family. The black sheep, as you will.

He can never act like an adult.

Ever.

This time, I hoped things had changed, but now I see they haven’t.

“This isn’t like last time,” my father assures me. “This is a very amicable break up.”

I stare into my father’s eyes. “Then why is she crying?”

Crystal steps forward. “I’m only crying because I know how much we hurt you both.”

I scoff. “You haven’t hurt us.” Winter places a hand on my back. “The only one who hurts people is my father.”

Crystal steps closer to me. “No, he’s been wonderful. Some relationships come into your life to set you onto a new path.” Crystal smiles at Winter as she rubs reassuring circles on my back. “I think I know why Randall and I met.”

“Why?”

She gives me a knowing smile before taking my father’s hand and walking out of the room.

“Can you believe them?” I jab a thumb over my shoulder in the direction they just left.

Winter says nothing. Instead, she moves to stand in front of me.

“Listen,” I start. “About last night…” I’m on the verge of asking her to pretend I never said anything, but she cuts me off instead.

“I love you, too,” she blurts out.

My heart leaps in my chest, crashing against my chest, ready to jump into her hands. Anyone who says you can’t find true love in three weeks is nothing but a Scrooge.

“Are you sure?” I ask, wondering why I’m even questioning any of this.

She gives me a slow nod. “Yep.”

I slide my hands around her waist and pull her into me. “Say it one more time to be certain.”

She smiles. “I love you, Kane Snow.”

“I love you, Winter Joseph.”

Epilogue

WINTER

It took my mother longer to get married than it did to get divorced. I want to say they divorced by the next day, but we all know that’s not the real story.

And Kane and me, well, we had our own Christmas miracle. He decked my halls so good over the holiday I’m forty-one weeks pregnant.

I knead my back with my fist. “This baby is just not coming out,” I tell Kane as I walk around our two-bedroom condo.

Kane finishes up packing a box. “It’ll come. You just have to be patient.”

We’re moving to a new home, one we just bought together, and life couldn’t be better. Kane is killing it in the publishing field, signing on a brilliant author with a large fanbase. And me.

I started fresh adventures for Sparkly Figgybottoms in my spare time, and well, my sales kind of blew up overnight. People love my children’s books.

Which is one reason we’re moving to a bigger place. Our tiny condo has become the home for my inventory. Lots and lots of inventory.

Besides, I’m sure the baby won’t want to sleep in a box of books, so we’re packing up the last of our things.

I should say Kane is packing it all up while I rest on the couch larger than a whale. I feel like a whale, full of blubber and water.

“We can always have sex,” Kane says with a laugh. “They say it brings on labor.”

I stare at him. Yes, I’ve heard the old wives’ tale, but I can safely say Kane and I had so much sex during this pregnancy the baby should have been born by now.

“Kane, I’m serious. Maybe he’s stuck. Maybe we should go to the doctor to see if something’s wrong.”

Kane stops fiddling with the packing tape and sits beside me on the sofa. “I promise you; nothing is wrong. He’ll come when he’s ready.”

“Which is never.”

My stomach tightens just as Kane gives me a peck on the cheek. “Ow,” I groan out.

I’ve been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks, but nothing this intense.