Hope springs forth like a fountain, bubbling into my psyche as I see the seeds of my plan take life in my mind’s eye. Yes, this could definitely work. I begin to wonder how to tackle this task. I’m going to have to let this idea percolate in my mind over the course of the next few days. Come up with something that speaks to Christian at his level but, I feel very strongly, that the whole thing shouldn’t appear needy or whiney.
I’ll answer Christian’s e-mail and then, see if I can do some research. I should be able to get some examples of contracts and how they’re written and worded on the internet. I smile to myself, somehow I don’t think this is the type of thing I can ask a lawyer to help me with.
To: Christian Grey
From: Anastasia Steele
Date: 18 October 2016 05:17
Subject: Welcome home
Thank you for e-mail, I trust that you had a good flight and that you arrived safely. I share your regret regarding our parting yesterday. I guess all of this is still pretty new, it will take a bit of adjustment on both our parts to plot a happy way forward. Again, I would like to reiterate how deeply sorry I feel for my actions five years ago, I never foresaw these complicated repercussions, though I know that it’s no excuse.
I would love for you to spend more time with Chris and I will do everything in my power to accommodate you in that regard. This is something I absolutely don’t want to argue about.
Thank you for agreeing to help me with my book deal and the negotiations surrounding it. I appreciate your offer to take me on at Grey publishing but I really do like Julie Logan and, as you said yourself, we would make a good fit. Let’s see where the negotiating takes us.
I commend myself for handling that so well, I feel that I’ve kept it fairly neutral and addressed the potentially explosive custody situation in a subtle manner. I fire up Google, time for some contract research.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder why Chris is sleeping so late but I am knee deep in my little project and dismiss the thought – he had a big day yesterday. Then, as if on cue, he stumbles into the kitchen, pale and bleary eyed.
“Mommy,” he’s rubbing his eyes, his voice raspy and whiney. He walks up to me then climbs onto my lap where he curls up for the comfort only a mom can offer. I wrap my arms around him and breathe in his sleepy scent, his body still warm from his bed.
“Hello darling boy – how was your night?” Sometimes my heart can barely grasp the volume of love it holds for this precious little being.
“I feel bad,” he ignores my question; his arm reaches around my neck and holds even tighter while he buries his head in my neck.
“What’s wrong baby boy?” The mother in me is instantly on alert as I push him back to put my hand on his forehead, searching his eyes.
Sure enough, he has a temperature and now that I can see his eyes I can see the tell-tale redness of fever there. I groan, “Oh-no buddy, looks like you’ve got a bug.” I wrap my arms around him rocking back and forth, the way he used to love when he was a little baby.
“My throat hurts,” he croaks.
I get up with Chris still in my arms and head for the bathroom. “Let’s get you some medicine and then you can lie on the couch and watch cartoons.” My usually energetic boy just nods into my neck, proving that he really is feeling very sick.
I set him down on the bathroom counter and look into the back of his throat. His tonsils are covered with tiny white spots. My poor baby has tonsillitis. From the bathroom cabinet I grab the trusty pain and fever syrup, measuring some out before he dutifully swallows it. His grimace tells me it tastes yuck. I smile and ruffle his hair then pick him up again. I hate it when he’s sick; it always makes me feel so helpless.
As I carry him to our cosy little lounge I remember Christian always saying that I made him feel helpless. With the insight of motherhood I can see how easily overprotectiveness can become a natural extension of helplessness. Right now, I will do anything to take the hurt away from Chris, is that how Christian felt about me?
Yet again I feel sadness curl her fingers around my heart, her irony grip giving me an inkling of the pain I’ve caused Christian. The sadness drives the shame that’s finding an ever firming grip on my mind. I’m so stupid!
Motherhood has been such an insightful teacher, giving me a much deeper understanding of life and love. It’s ironic how it’s given me the tools to understand Christian better. At least now I have a point of reference for unconditional love and I can relate better. Why does it take age to make you realise how little you really know? There were so many things I was certain of and now, looking back, I can see how very wrong I was.
I install Chris on the couch before getting a blanket and his favourite teddy. I expect the medicine to make him drowsy; he’ll be comfy on the couch if he falls asleep in front of the TV.
“Do you want something to eat baby boy?” I sit on the edge of the couch and stroke his warm cheek.
He shakes his head, “can I have some juice please mommy?” His hoarse voice and tired eyes tugging at my heart.
“Sure, coming right up!” I interject a sunny note into my tone to lighten his mood – and mine.
I grab the juice from the fridge as well as my laptop. I’ll sit with him and do some more research; I don’t like to leave him alone when he feels like this. I only have to be at work in the late afternoon and then my mom will come around to look after him.
After reading through another heap of example contracts, a ping alerts me to the arrival of a new e-mail.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Welcome home
Date: 18 October 2016 03:47
To: Anastasia Steele
Thank you for your reply. We have just landed in Seattle. I’m pleased to see that you’re in an accommodating mood. I shall endeavour to do the same for you.
Andrea will check my schedule and send you some blocks of time that would be suitable for a visit from you. Please go through it and let me know what works with your schedule and Chris’ school. You can stay with me in the apartment at Escala.
I look forward to receiving your manuscript.
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I don’t mind the bossy, authoritative tone of his e-mail – not like I used to – but I hate this formality between us. It’s like he’s refusing to connect with his feelings for me, treating me like an employee. It’s so frustrating. Duelling with Christian Grey’s formidable self-control is not something to be taken lightly!
I feel like shaking him by the shoulders and yelling “feel!” at him. He should be so angry with me after what I did. I’m sure that there’re things he wants to say to me, to tell me how stupid I’ve been, just to get it off his chest but his self-loathing has internalised all those emotions to the point of him blaming himself – all courtesy of bitch-troll Elena. Man, I hate that woman. What I could do to that monster, kicking her in the shin would bring me some much needed stress relief…
The thought tugs the corners of my mouth into a self-satisfied smile. Ah well, I shrug my shoulders, trying to shake of the residual ager I feel whenever I think of her – a girl can dream. I pull my notes closer, ready again to wrestle with the wording of my unusual contract.
An hour later I’m all contracted-out and in need of breakfast and a break. I consider getting Chris to the doctor’s but first I have to answer Christian’s e-mail.
To: Christian Grey
From: Anastasia Steele
Date: 18 October 2016 09:39
I will get those dates to you as soon as I have your schedule, we would love to come and visit you, thank you again for the offer.
Chris had a very late sleep-in this morning and I assumed it was because of his big day with you yesterday but it turns out our little boy has tonsillitis. He’s resting on the couch and I think I should get him to the doctor this morning. I’m sure that he’ll need antibiotics. I’ll be working this evening but my mom will be here looking after him.
I have attached my manuscript for you to look at. I would appreciate your thoughts on it.
I hope you have a pleasant day in your world of mergers and acquisitions.
I wonder if he’ll pick up on the fact that I’m referring to Chris as “our boy” as I hit send. I know I mustn’t expect too much but I can’t help hoping that the notion of a whole, complete family spurs him into action. In hindsight I’m not sure mentioning Chris being sick was a good idea, I hope he won’t worry too much.
I shuffle to the kitchen and leave a sleeping Chris behind. After my usual breakfast of granola and yoghurt I brush my teeth and get dressed. Just as I finish brushing my hair I hear the ding of the doorbell. As I ambled to the front door I idly wondered who it could be, I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Being with Christian has ruined me for all other men; he’s so stunningly beautiful, accomplished in so many things, that no-one else has ever managed to turn my head. I’ve come to accept that there will never be anybody who can compete with him but as my door swings open, I hear my own breath catch. I’m greeted by an extremely attractive, rugged looking man with roguish green eyes and a sexy, toothpaste ad-ready smile.
Oh my! “Uhm, hello…can I help you?” I stammer over my words as I stare blatantly, being caught unawares as my jaw almost drops to the floor.
“Hi. Anastasia Steele? I’m Dr Shawn O’Reily,” a confident grin curves his full mouth before he continues, “- paediatrician. I’m here to see Chris.” He holds out his big hand as the gentle Irish tones of his accent caress my ears.
I take the proffered hand blindly, the shock of this stunning man in my doorway and the fact that he’s a doctor – doing a surprise house call – has rendered me hunting for my lost words. “How did you..” I trail off as clarity settles. Christian’s arranged for a doctor – a paediatrician no less – to come and see Chris!
He instantly and correctly surmises the situation, effortlessly sliding into a skilled comforting mode, a bedside manner obviously honed to perfection. “I take it Mr Grey hasn’t had time to let you know that I was coming? He’s very concerned for your son and um…” a quick flash of embarrassment announced the obscene amount of money I suspected he was getting for this unconventional house call before he continued: “…persuaded me to come and see how he’s doing.”
My astounded eyes are so glued to the chiselled jaw, wavy dark-blond hair and strong body that it takes a few moments for me to register that I need to let him in. I blink into smiling eyes and come to my senses. Wow!
“Ah.. yes, of course, please come in.” I’ve never been more grateful that I’ve brushed my hair and I’m not still wearing my tatty pyjamas.
Dr O’Reily has to duck slightly as he walks through the doorway, his tall frame filling the corridor space as he waits for me to close the door and lead the way. I wonder if Christian knows how good looking the good doctor is. My inner goddess is fanning herself, beside herself with interest.
The thought brings realisation with a sickening thud and my heart plummets into my boots, Christian would have checked and re-checked every detail about this doctor thoroughly before sending him to us. He’s never been one to tolerate flirty, attractive men around me; if he suddenly doesn’t care that I get an eye-full of hunky man, is it because he doesn’t care to have me back?
Shit! It’s confusion central in my head.
I push the thought aside for later, eager to make full use of the convenient doctor. “He’s having a nap at the moment; I gave him some paracetamol syrup after I checked his throat and saw the inflammation on his tonsils.” I explain to Dr O’Reily as we reach my sleeping boy. I’ve mercifully recovered most of my equilibrium and now I’m out to impress the doc as some ancient and unwelcome male revering female gene kicks in. I stand straighter, flipping my hair over my back and smile brightly, hoping to exude some “super-woman” vibes.
What’s wrong with me? My body inviting flirtation that my mind is rebelling against. I focus, ordering my body back in line. Just because there’s a virile male around doesn’t mean we have to go all cave girl on his ass!
He drops to his knees next to Chris, throwing me a reassuring smile over his bulky shoulder. “Aye, that’s good, it’s really all you can do. Make him comfortable so he can rest and keep an eye on the pain and fever.”
I touch Chris’ face to help him wake up and sleepy, unfocussed eyes find mine. “Hi buddy, I have a doctor here to have a look at you. Will you let him take a look at your throat?” I coax gently and worm in beside him on the couch. He groans and pushes himself up as he eyes the doctor wearily. I pull him onto my lap to give Dr O’Reily better access to his throat and ears.
The doctor does a thorough examination and chats to Chris about football. Chris gets a little more animated now that the Georgia Bulldogs is the topic of discussion, especially since the doc likes the same team. Boys, they’re so easily distracted! Dr O’Reily questions me about allergies, asthma and Chris’ general diet.
“He’s usually very lively, he eats well and he almost never gets sick, I can’t even remember the last time he needed a doctor.” My voice sounds all breathy, still flirty – how annoying that my body can act like this without my mind’s consent?
“No history of ear infections then?” The doc asks while looking into Chris’ ears with a coned light.
I shake my head, “no doctor O’Reily, I was told that the breastfeeding would help with that,” I clarify, “you know, to prevent ear infections in infants.”
His sparkling eyes catch mine and I clock surprise and then a flash of something I can’t quite name. I sense the red flush creeping across my cheeks as I see his eyes flick over my breasts for a millisecond before resting on my face again. His full lips curl into a slow, lazy smile, “please call me Shawn, and yes, I’m sure that’s the case. So many women prefer not to nurse these days. You can’t give your child any better gift.”
Somehow he makes it sound erotic, especially paired with the steamy look he gives me. My subconscious drops into a dead faint onto her chaise lounge and my inner goddess is revelling in the unexpected flirt session. I, on the other hand, am speechless for the second time today. What!?
My mind is scrambling for something appropriate to say but I only manage to gape uncomprehendingly at him. “Uhm…so… it’s the tonsils?” It’s the best by befuddled brain can come up with, change of subject as defence.
Dr Shawn stands up and nods, “I will give you a course of antibiotics to give him, do you still have enough pain and fever medication?” He can see how uncomfortable I am but judging by his huge grin, he’s finding it amusing.
“Okay,…ah, yes, thank you,” I stroke Chris’ hair absentmindedly, struggling to channel my inner poise. I stand with Chris in my arms hoping that he’ll act as a human barrier. Maybe if I remind him that I have a child with a father – albeit and absent one, he’ll back off.
He cocks his head to one side, no doubt in response to my flushed reply. He hands me the antibiotic suspension. “I don’t usually do this, I like to keep things professional,” his tone is still teasing, his eyes still laughing. “Let me take you out to dinner when this big lad feels better and you can get away.”
Chris jumps in with an excited reply on my behalf, “yes mommy, let’s go with Dr Shawn, and he can take us to a game and then we can have ice-cream and stay up late!” His excitement makes the words tumble out in a rush. At least he seems to be feeling a bit better.
If I wasn’t so shocked at Dr Shawn’s flirtatious ways, it would be funny that Chris thinks he’d be welcome on a first date – my little boy clearly doesn’t grasp the intricacies of dates and romance yet.
“Maybe another time buddy but you,” I tickle him lightly on his chest, “must get better first and then, when you’re well, we’ll be going on a little holiday to visit my friend Christian.” Please, please let my patented distraction technique work on Chris I beg silently. I look pointedly at Dr Shawn when I say Christian’s name, hoping he can read between the lines and get my “unavailable” message.
My inner goddess is not pleased, a romantic date with someone who desires us; it’s just what we need! She pouts and stomps her stiletto clad foot.
“Ooh, holiday, hooray!” Chris wiggles from my arms and forgets all about “our” date with Dr Shawn. Yes! He waves at Dr Shawn and runs off is search of something to do.
Oh no, Chris was supposed to be my shield. I suddenly feel very naked standing alone with Dr Shawn and his blatant carnal intentions, mostly because he looks at me like I’m not wearing a thing.
“Anastasia, may I call you that?” He doesn’t wait for my reply and those green eyes have gone smoky. “I’m not the type of man who takes “no” for an answer and I’m as patient as they come.” He reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face and then brushes my bottom lip lightly with the pad of his thumb.
I feel like Bambi. My wide eyes are locked into his; I cannot tear my gaze away for all the love and money in the world. “I… I can’t,” is all I can manage to squeak, mortification only colouring my blush brighter.
Oh boy, he’s attractive and that self-assured arrogance is definitely doing things for me but there’s no point in indulging in this fantasy – Christian is the man for me, I’m not going to let my traitorous body and slutty inner goddess dictate my choices in men.
On the other hand – surprisingly it’s my subconscious talking – how much less complicated would our lives be with a “normal” man?
His expression tells me that he’s not at all convinced by my answer. “We’ll see,” comes his measured reply as he winks salaciously at me, another hungry smirk playing on his lips while he holds my gaze for way longer than appropriate.
My mouth has gone bone dry and I know that beet red doesn’t begin to describe the colour I must be by now. How can he enjoy my obvious discomfort like that? It’s so un-gentlemanly!
“I’ll need to see Chris again for a follow-up appointment, just to be sure that he’s in the clear, say in five or six days’ time.” Again I hear all sorts of sub text in the tone he’s using. Maybe it’s the sexy accent – I try to justify his overt interest, maybe I’ve gone mad.
“Sure, we’ll come to your office.” Good plan Ana! I congratulate myself. Neutral ground with lots of people around, that should keep Dr Mc Flirty in his place.
He extracts a business card and hands it to me, “don’t lose it,” he whispers as he takes my hand and folds my fingers around the card. His grip is firm; his touch sure and warm. Again his intense, emerald eyes probe and linger slowly, leaving no room for misreading his blatant signals.
He breaks contact and strides off, his broad shoulders dwarfing my hallway and then, he’s gone. Phew! I let go of a long held breath.
Holy cow! That was… sexy – my inner goddess’ contribution is so typical of her.
Intense is the word my subconscious mouths at me.
Yes, I think and shocking, and crazy and very inappropriate.
I give my head a little shake to clear the fog and head for my laptop, suddenly feeling unreasonably angry. Christian really should learn some boundaries. The least he could do was warn me.
Before I have time to look too deeply into my unexpected ire a strange thought pops into my head. Could Christian have deliberately sent a super-hot guy to test me? No, I reply to myself – he could never have known that Chris would be sick and between getting the e-mail and organising the doctor, I don’t think he would have had time to dream up with a scheme like that. Strangely I feel disappointed. At least it would mean that he was thinking about the possibility of “us”.
I click on my e-mail icon and find a waiting mail from Christian, my heart doing its usual flutter as I open it up.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Doctor’s visit
Date: 18 October 2016 09:58
To: Anastasia Steele
I have been trying to call you but as was the case so often in the past, you are hard to reach. I really hope you can appreciate how imperative it is that I am able to contact you.
I have arranged for a leading paediatrician to come and make a house call to see to Chris. I only want the best care for him.
Doctor Shawn O’Reily comes highly recommended and is the author of several paediatric textbooks as well as a lecturer on the subject at various prestigious universities.
I have received your manuscript and shall get back to you regarding a negotiating strategy by tomorrow.
Please keep me up to date with Chris’ progress.
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Oh, he did try to contact me. I scramble up and go in search of my mobile phone. Oops! I have four missed calls and as many messages. I’ve forgotten it on the silent setting. Getting up so early this morning was a break in my usual routine, it slipped my mind. Now I feel like and errant child again, his rebuking manner never fails to reduce me to my inner five-year-old. I hate that he’s caught me on the wrong foot – again.
I sit down to answer his e-mail, thinking of something placating to say in my defence but curiosity overcomes me first. I do a quick search of Dr Shawn on trusty Google and it soon becomes apparent why Christian chose him. Like Christian, he really is a leader in his chosen profession but the thing that strikes me is that all the photos of Dr Shawn are dreary, the pose reminiscent of a book’s publicity stills. They’re all in black-and-white and for some reason he used to wear a full beard and nerdy glasses that made him look book-wormy and unattractive. Without the benefit of colour, you can’t see his lovely eyes and because all are only head shots, you would never guess the rugged, manly physique he sports.
Oh goodie! I clap my hands together with glee. Christian had no way of knowing that Dr Shawn is *Dr Mc Dreamy and Mc Steamy all rolled into one! I flush and look around; inexplicably paranoid that someone may have witnessed my girlish little whim even though I know I’m all alone.
To: Christian Grey
From: Anastasia Steele
Date: 18 October 2016 11:09
Subject: Doctor’s visit
Thank you for organising a house call, that was very thoughtful and convenient. The doctor was very thorough and accommodating. Chris does indeed have tonsillitis and has been put on a course of antibiotics. We will need to go to a follow-up appointment in a week’s time. I think he’s feeling better, especially after a dose of the pain medication. He’ll miss a few days of pre-school as he needs to rest. Easier said than done for a toddler.
I apologise for missing your calls, I neglected to switch my mobile back to sound mode.
I look forward to your review of my manuscript.
After giving our apartment a quick once-over with the vacuum, I give-in to a bored Chris’ constant badgering and play with him. We colour in, we race with some remote control cars and I’ve read way too many stories that we both already know off by heart.
The door-bell drags me away from the seventh time reading * “The Cat in the Hat” that day.
Another unexpected visitor I muse as I open the door. This time it’s Christian’s close personal protection security guy from last night – Collins – that’s darkening my door. What does he want?
“Ma’am” he nods his head in greeting, “reporting for duty. I’ll do a sweep of the apartment and make the necessary adjustments.” Taylor’s detached clone is in no mood for niceties and I notice that I don’t get asked, but told.
This must be part of Christian’s promise of security detail for us he mentioned in a previous e-mail. I’d forgotten all about that. Well, at least these days I know better than to fight it. Resigned to the loss of my privacy I step away from the door and wave Collins in.
Collins wastes no time and is soon fiddling around the apartment fixing my apparently numerous security breaches. I roll my eyes at all the fuss. I’m exhausted from all the toddler play and beginning to run out of calm indoor activities to occupy Chris. By 2:00pm I can see that he’s ready for another nap but before I can persuade him the doorbell rings again.
I frown to myself and for the third time today wonder who it can be. We seem to be very popular today but I’m a little apprehensive, I’m not sure I can take any more unexpected surprises. I make to open the door but Collins almost tackles me out of the way in his haste to stop me.
He gives me a stern look, “I will be doing that ma’am, please step away.”
Urgh! I already forgot all about him, his talent for making himself invisible working a little too well. This is going to take some getting used to; my apartment is way too small for three people!
He opens the door and I hear him do a thorough security check on the unsuspecting person. He steps back in and gives me an “okay” sign with his thumb and forefinger, finally allowing me to meet my visitor. Ah, ex-special forces I think as I recognise the covert field sign he uses. Silently I thank Ray for my comprehensive knowledge of all things military – much more than is normal for a regular girl like me.
I step out to my now, very secure front door area and come face-to-face with a bored young delivery guy with brown curly hair frizzing beneath a baseball cap and a noisy gum chewing habit.
“Ms Steele?” He holds out an electronic signature pad.
“Yes. What is it?” I’m puzzled by the box he hands me.
“Dunno ma’am, I just pick ‘em up and deliver ‘em.” He pops his gum loudly and waits impatiently for me to sign the pad. He eyes the big guy behind me with suspicion, probably wondering why someone in this neighbourhood is in need of a bodyguard. If only he knew…
He leaves and Collins makes light work of the box, carrying it into the house but only after he secured the front door. It now sports a new keypad with a flashing red light. No doubt some hi-tech security gadget bound to cause me some frustration down the line.
Of course Chris thinks Collins is just the coolest thing and he high-fives Collins as he sets the box on the low coffee table in the lounge. Chris gets a friendly grin and mentally I huff, I only get tackled and stern lectures.
Chris joins me as I start to open the box. He bounds around like an excited puppy, “maybe it’s a horse or…or….or a rocket! Hurry mommy, be quick!”
I laugh and carefully slice through the tape. “It’s a bit small to be a horse honey, but maybe it’s a year supply of broccoli!”
His face is a picture of shock and horror before he realises that I’m joking and then eagerly helps me scoop out the protective foam shells. It’s like were digging for treasure. So much for vacuuming the carpet I think as they settle like fat snowflakes on my previously pristine floor.
I pull out the first box and both Chris and I gasp at the stunning toy. It’s a cork board with coloured wooden shapes that you can nail into the board to make pictures. It comes with a little hammer and tiny nails.
This can only be from Christian. I remember my last e-mail’s comment about how hard it is to keep Chris resting. It’s just like Christian to notice a detail like that and my heart wants to burst with affection for him. I just know that everything in the box will be educational and fun, chosen with the utmost care.
Next Chris pulls out a LEGO set with a pirate theme. It has all the bits to build the pirate ship pictured on the box. He squeals with delight and shakes it, jumping from one foot to the other, buzzing with elation.
The last item is an ipad with a sticky note attached to the box. A melancholy settles uneasily in my heart as a strong sense of déjà vu washes over me. Christian gave me an ipad once before….
This item is for you but I took the liberty of downloading some children’s movies and educational applications for Chris as well. Please take note that experts recommend that small children not exceed more than two hours of computer, gaming and/or TV time per day.
I added the * “My Writing Spot” application for you. It’s a writing app that allows you to write on all your electronic devices which then gets synced so that you always have access to the latest version of your manuscript.
My mind boggles at how he always manages to do the most thoughtful and romantic things for me. His comment about toddlers and TV is so typical of his overbearing nature but shows that he’s gone to the trouble of researching the topic. The gesture touches my soul, especially because it involves the wellbeing of my son. I feel the tears well up and quickly swipe them away with the back of my hand before Chris picks up on my sadness but it’s too late. He drops the box and comes over to me, his little face serious and concerned, his joy forgotten for now.
“Why are you crying mommy? Are you mad at Santa?” He stokes my hair and I feel awful that I can’t contain my brimming emotions. Lucky his question is so funny that I snort-laugh through my silly tears and his sweet face relaxes.
“No buddy, I’m not mad at Santa, I’m just so happy for you!” I grab him under his arms and pull him onto me as I tickle him and kiss his face.
Tears gone, we roll around wrestling and giggling. I’m grateful for Collins’ ability to disappear; this is not the type of moment that you want to share with outsiders.
Once we come down from our giggle-high he settles on the floor and starts to open the first toy. “You know, these presents aren’t from Santa.” I don’t want to burst his bubble but I think it’s important that he knows that they’re from Christian, it will be a solid way to build on the good experience Chris had with him yesterday.
“Yes they are!” Earnest eyes look into mine, “Santa is the only one who has enough money to buy lots of presents at a time.”
I love the kid logic behind his reasoning. “Santa doesn’t buy presents, his elves makes them!” I teasingly remind him, gently bumping my shoulder against his.
I watch him carefully as he turns over this new piece of information. I give him an encouraging smile but nothing in the world can prepare me for his response. My blood turns to ice as he looks down and then up to me again. His eyes large and shining with hope, his voice a whisper – almost reverent: “are they from my real daddy?”
Please take note of the following borrowed terms and titles:
*Taken from Grey’s Anatomy, American Broadcasting Company.
*The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss.
*My Writing Spot, application by Peter de Tagyos