Page 5 of A Second Chance Christmas Kiss

My phone buzzed. It was Peter. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I was still waiting for the 401(k) to be divided, and I needed that money.

Wasn’t it funny that money seemed to always play such a big part in everyone’s lives? Whether that was hating money, as my mother seemed to, or needing money.

I answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Hey, have you heard from Will?”

I sighed. “I don’t think it’s your business what I’ve heard and what I haven’t.”

“He’s our son. We should be able to talk about him. Is he still planning to spend the holidays with you?”

“That’s what he texted us.” Since our son was a sophomore in college, there were no binding legalities. I didn’t want to give anything away.

“I know what he texted us.” His tone was flat.

I rolled my eyes. I’d realized in the past year that we had never been a team in our marriage. Peter had taken the husband-and-wife roles very seriously, and while he’d built his career, I’d been left to raise Will and do all the domestic things. Which I hadn’t minded. In fact, I’d loved it. That’s what made it so painful when he’d told me about getting divorced before the Christmas party. I’d worked so hard building a home and a community for us, and it hadn’t mattered.

“He won’t answer my calls,” Peter said.

I considered telling him that Will wouldn’t answer my calls either, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “On a different topic, when will the 401(k) be split?”

Peter grunted. “I gave you half of the house, and you’re still pestering me about this? You didn’t even earn that money. Plus, you still haven’t sold your mother’s house.”

“That house is in a trust that is being given to Will, and you know that.”

“Not if you’d sell it before he turns twenty-nine.”

Anger surged inside me. “My mother wanted it to go to Will, so it’s going to Will.” I would go under before I’d sell the house my mother left for my son. “We’ve been over this countless times with the attorneys. When you get a divorce, you split the assets. That includes your 401(k). You can look at it as compensation for raising your son and building a community and a family of people around us—something that you threw away.”

A rumbling laugh came out of him. I hated that laugh. “If you and I were so easy to tear down, were we really worth building?”

I bit my lip. “Just get me my half. If I don’t get it by the end of the year, then we are going to court.” I hung up before he could argue further.

My hands were shaking, and I put the phone down. I paced around the cash register and into the center of the store, which certainly wasn’t as big as I remembered. The store was a few missed payments away from financial ruin. When I’d decided to take it over, mostly because I was floundering and had nowhere else for my life to go, I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to keep afloat. Tears came to my eyes, and I blinked them away. I would not lose it.

I had to think about my class this afternoon. That was the main reason why I had hired a girl to work after school: so, I could go to the local community college for my classes. Unlike my son’s tuition, mine was minuscule, but I was trying tolearn a skill. Accounting. Something practical. I was good with numbers, and I regretted not finishing my degree.

I regretted so many things.

I walked over to the front doors and stared out at the bustling street. With Christmas coming, there’d been an uptick in sales, which had been nice. I thought about Charles. He hadn’t flinched at buying a six-hundred-and-fifty-dollar doll. Why would he? He was from King money.

I tried not to think about him, but it felt impossible. Especially after seeing the same look on his face that I’d seen nineteen years ago when he’d tried to stop my wedding. He hadn’t done it in a flashy “stop the vows” way. No. He’d just shown up early at the church and sought me out. I didn’t know why I couldn’t tell him what his grandfather had said to me on the phone. Why I had let my mother, and her words get inside my head. Why I hadn’t just fled the church with Charles and left Peter that day.

I cringed and closed my eyes, applying pressure to the bridge of my nose. How many times had I thought about that moment in the past year since the divorce? Too many to count.

I dropped my hand and opened my eyes. I would not live a life where I second-guessed everything. I would not.

I pulled out my phone and tapped on a picture of Will and me on his graduation day. It was a picture without his dad, and both of us looked so happy. My heart ached to go back to that day and hold the moment a bit longer—hold Will longer.

I texted him.Call me when you can. Love you.

The door dinged, and a couple walked into the store. I plastered on the smile I used for greeting customers. It had been a real smile before the divorce. Now it was fake, and I often wondered if it would ever be real again. Maybe I would use it forever and forget there was supposed to be happiness behind it.

The man and his wife looked around the store. I imagined they were in their mid-thirties. He wore a horrible Christmas sweater, and she wore a pretty red scarf.

The man grinned at me. “We need some Christmas dolls for our little girls. We were glad to see that the store was open.”

My fake smile went wider. “Great. How can I help you?”

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