Shit. I say the only thing that comes to mind. “Well… I visit countries all over the world. Sometimes I like to speak in their different accents.”

His eyes narrow and his mouth twists as if he’s thinking seriously about that, then nods as though it’s an acceptable answer. “Can you do a French accent? One of my teachers is French and I really like how it sounds when she speaks.”

I have to press my lips together to keep myself from laughing. “You know, Dante, I’d really rather hear what you want for Christmas since you’ve been such a good boy all year.”

He goes on to list about thirty toys I’ve never heard of before I hand him his present.

“Thanks, Santa. Now you have to do my little sister, Allegra. She doesn’t talk yet, but she’s been really good.”

I glance at the baby the auburn-haired woman is holding. I’m not the best judge of how many months old an infant is, but I know this kid isn’t even a year old.

“Honey, I think Santa probably has to be getting on to his next stop,” Dante’s mum says, bouncing the baby on her hip.

“She has to sit with Santa, Mommy, otherwise he won’t bring her any presents.” He turns to me with what I now understand can be described as puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip jutted out.

“I do have to be going, but I can sit with her for a minute.”

My heart races as the mum gives me a grateful look and makes her way to me with the baby. “Thank you,” she mouths before passing the baby over.

I’ve never held a baby, so my heart thunders. I reach out, saying a small prayer that I won’t mess this up and send the baby tumbling to the floor. I grip her under the arms and bring her closer, then set her on my lap. She flaps her arms and legs, which startles me at first, but I recover quickly, tightening my grip. A few pictures are taken, and I happily pass her back to her mum.

I place my hands on both sides of my fake belly. “Well, children, I’d better be—”

“What about Ryder?” Giuliana asks.

I make eye contact with one of the parents, hoping they get the message that I don’t understand.

“Yeah, Ryder has to have a turn,” Mateo says.

A twentysomething guy steps out from around the back of the parents. I hadn’t even noticed him. My guess is that he’s doing his best to hide and doesn’t really even want to be here. I know I wouldn’t if I were his age.

“I’m good, you guys. I think I’m too old to sit on Santa’s lap anymore,” Ryder says.