“Holy shit.”
“Tomorrow’s the twenty-third. And he has to sleep.”
“Stupid strike,” Moira said, a sentiment with which I heartily agreed.
“He’ll be here the day after Christmas. The plantation he’s doing the shoot for owns a plane. It’s in South America right now, but the pilot’s due back with it late Christmas Day.”
“That’s something,” Sylvia says. She’d moved from Jackson’s side to mine while Damien was talking, and now she takes my hand. “You’ll at least see him over the holiday, and he should be home for New Years, right?”
“Absolutely,” I say, forcing myself to sound more upbeat than I feel. “I’m just disappointed.” I sit up straighter and conjure a smile. “I promise I’ll be fine by the time we get to The Domino. A winter wonderland is no place to be melancholy.”
“Especially this one,” Syl says. As a manager at Stark Real Estate, she was on the committee that put together the weekend event for charity. Remembering that, I double my efforts to be cheerful. Because honestly, it’s bad news, yes. But it shouldn’t destroy my day. And what holiday isn’t without some snafu? I’ll call this mine and expect smooth sailing until at least Christmas morning.
“I’m going to go help Jackson with the kids,” I say, then kiss Damien’s cheek. “I’m fine,” I whisper as I pull away.
“Hey,” he says, tugging me back. He holds me still, his eyes locked on mine. And then slowly—so deliciously slowly—he bends forward to kiss me. It’s soft and sensual and fills me all the way down to my toes.
When I feel as if I’ll float away, he breaks the kiss, then pulls back, the corner of his mouth twitching as he says, very simply, “You know I’d fix this if I could.”
“I know,” I say.
But we both know that he can’t.Chapter Six“Look, Mama! Snow!”
I turn to find Lara pointing at snowflakes falling around Santa’s Workshop, leaving the surrounding area covered in a blanket of white. It’s fake snow, of course, but it’s actually sticking, thanks to the engineering marvel that is the platform upon which the workshop was built.
“It’s not real,” Ronnie says, in her most imperious voice. “It hardly never snows in Los Angeles.”
“Hardly ever,” Sylvia corrects gently. “And just because it doesn’t come from the sky doesn’t mean it’s not fun.” She shoots me a quick, amused glance. “Now why don’t you take Jeffery and your cousins and go get in line. Aunt Nikki and I will be along in a sec.”
Ronnie nods, her dark curls bouncing, then reaches for her little brother’s hand. “You can be my assistant,” she says to Lara. “You hold on to Anne.”
Lara stands tall, then thrusts her hand out to take Anne’s, relishing this responsibility bestowed by the older cousin she adores.
I watch until they’re safely in the line, guarded over by a slew of Santa’s elves. Then I glance at Syl. “No Santa for us?”
She glances across the open area to where Jackson and Damien stand at a drink cart, waiting for cider. “I already got my Christmas wish. Didn’t you?”
I feel the quick stab in my heart about Frank, but I nod. Because she’s right. I did. I have. Damien. Then, now, always.
I sigh as I think about our girls. “Yeah,” I tell her. “I did. My wish—and so much more.”
As I’m watching, he catches my eye, then holds up one of the two cups that the stand’s attendant has handed to him. I smile in anticipation, both of him coming over and of the warm mug of cider.
“Perfect,” I tell Damien. “Especially in this chill.”
“Funny,” he says, because it’s particularly warm today, even by Los Angeles standards. But anyone flying over the scene wouldn’t know it. The Domino’s entire octagonal courtyard has been transformed as advertised, and now it’s a full-blown Winter Wonderland.
Even the little stream that runs though the courtyard is part of the fun, with “icebergs” floating the serpentine path, each topped with an animated character—elves, ice skaters, angels, reindeer, and the like.
The surface area is full of craft and food vendors, but also dotted with a performance area where a local high school choir is singing Christmas carols, several craft tents where kids can make ornaments or work on a variety of presents to give to friends or family, and lots of other areas. There are bouncy houses and games—Lara is desperate to try Toss the Ring on the Reindeer—as well as toddler friendly areas with inflatables and stuffed snowmen for the kids to take home.
“Santa’s workshop next?” I ask him. “I want to get some pictures of the girls with Santa other than the official portraits they’re selling.”
“Absolutely,” he says, as we fall in step behind Jackson and Sylvia.
We’ve just joined the kids in line when I see Ryan waving at Damien from the far side of the fence that surrounds the makeshift North Pole.