Page 7 of A Little Cinny Latte

My gaze wanders back over to the three gifts under my Christmas tree. There’s one for Beth, and the other is for my father. I plop down on the rug next to the gift bag and peer inside. I can’t help it; I need to know what I got.

It’s been a really long time since someone other than my best friends or a family member bought me something.

“Guess what, Mom,” I say out loud. “Someone bought me something for Christmas.” I miss my mom every day, but especially during the holidays. Like me, Christmas was her favorite time of the year. She would have been so excited about the Secret Santa present—Mom was always a romantic.

I pull the envelope out and reread the letter inside.

My dearest little Riley,

I hope it’s okay that I’m writing this letter and giving you a gift. I know we don’t know each other yet, but I was immediately intrigued by the details you left for the charity auction brochure.

When you weren’t announced during the auction, I was worried something had happened. I eagerly waited for Hunter to announce Number Eight, but as the night progressed and you didn’t walk on stage, I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling.

Hunter told me you were in the playroom and when I got there, I saw the most beautiful boy surrounded by colorful blocks. Seeing you playing there made my Daddy-heart beat faster. I wanted to join you. Only by the time I was ready to try, your friends showed up.

I knew you needed that time with your friends. Or hell, maybe I chickened out. Either way, I regret not going over there and introducing myself.

Hours later, I still couldn’t get you out of my head. So, this is me trying to fix that. I get the feeling you need to know someone was thinking about you. I was thinking about you, and I hope this Christmas present is something you will treasure.

Merry Christmas, Riley.

Sincerely yours,

Santa Daddy

P.S. I’m leaving my number down below. Please don’t feel obligated to text me, but if you ever need anything, or just want to chat, please don’t hesitate.

Folding the letter back into the envelope, I turn back toward my gift bag and carefully start pulling out the tissue paper. My fingers brush against something hard. It’s the first thing I touch.

I feel like I’m supposed to collect each item as I come across them. Whether that was actually his intention, that’s my plan.

I pull out a set of coloring pencils and smile. How did he know? I remember he mentioned he enjoyed the specifics I shared aboutmyself for the auction. A tag falls to the ground. I pick it up before pulling the item out of the bag.

Every little can always use more crayons or coloring pencils.

I giggle.Okay, true.

Pulling out the next item, I gasp, my smile growing wider. It’s a coloring book. But not just any generic coloring book, like I expected. No, this is the coolest freaking coloring book ever! It’s a Chibico coloring book,andit’s Christmas-themed!

I flip through the illustrations and spot all of my favorite creatures that I can color. The images are actually so cute, I don’t want to ruin them with my coloring. I make a mental note to photocopy each image so I can keep the original coloring book intact and color each image multiple times.

I pull out the handwritten tag from between the pages and read it.

For your new coloring pencils. I thought combining two of your favorite things would be a sure win.

A smart Daddy. I love it!

To my shock, the gift bag is still really heavy. I continue to pull out the remaining tissue paper until something soft grazes my fingers. I take the last item out of the bag and blink.

And blink again.

It’s a weighted blanket. But it’s not just the blanket that has me feeling choked up. It’s the design in the middle of the blanket that gets me feeling all kinds of emotional. There’s a cute drawing of my favorite Chibico in the center. I unfold the blanket to get an even better look at the image. Then I hug the material to my chest, rubbing the soft fleece against my cheek.

Noticing that something is missing, I rummage around the bottom of the bag and smile when I find one last handwritten tag.

A weighted blanket so we can both pretend it’s Daddy’s arms wrapped around you.

Happiness and warmth fill my chest. This is by far the sweetest, most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten. Without thinking, I jump up from my spot and rush back to the kitchen. I reach for my phone that’s sitting on the counter. Taking a deep breath, I plug in the phone number, type out a text, and hit send.

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