Page 33 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

I freeze. Putting the phone away, I take a deep breath in the middle of the produce section, then slowly turn around. Myblood runs cold as I analyze every movement, every person in sight, until I see him. He looks exactly the same as he did the last time we were together the night before he left.

I still remember every second of it. Every gesture. Every word he said, even the unspoken ones. He acted like it was just dinner, as usual. He helped Maisie with her food and then went to bed early. I put Maisie to sleep and stayed up to do the dishes. He left first thing in the morning.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I gasp, my whole body overcome with tremors of rage and indignation.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me, so I figured I’d meet you somewhere public,” Keith replies with a weary smile. He runs his fingers through his brown hair, his blue eyes measuring me from head to toe. He can still rock a t-shirt and jeans and make it look like he’s the latest hunk off a TV commercial, but I know him for who he truly is.

To my relief, there isn’t a hint of attraction left in me for this man. It’s funny how people can kill the love in other people. “You look fantastic, Dakota. You’ve really blossomed.”

“Were you following me?” I ask.

I grip my shopping basket so tight that my knuckles turn white. I have a mind to smack him over the head with it, but I might as well fill it up with heavy stuff first.

“I saw Chelsea come up to your place,” he says. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. Dakota, we need to talk.”

“No. No, we don’t. You need to pay your child support; you’re eight months behind. Again.”

“I know, you’ve told me, and I’ll sort it out. But we still need to talk.”

I start walking again, making my way along the produce aisle and taking a moment or two to inspect every crate before I select a few pieces and put them in my basket. Keith tries to approach me, but I give him a hard, unyielding look. Enough to keep him at a reasonable distance. Inside, I’m boiling. Outside, I reckon I appear as stiff as a corpse.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Keith. You wanted to leave, you left, we divorced, and now you keep failing to make your court-ordered payments.”

“I miss you.”

“Oh, fuck right off,” I snap. “How dare you?”

He stills, giving me an offended look. “What? It’s the truth. I miss you; I miss Maisie; I miss our life together.”

“Where do you get the nerve?” I calmly ask. “You’re the one who left, Keith, out of the blue. You didn’t even have the spine to break things off like a man. You ran off and left me to raise our child together. And now, a year later, you start texting me, and then you stalk me into the grocery store to tell me you want to make up? Are you for real?”

I look at him intently. Suddenly, I see the dark circles under his eyes. The growing stubble along his jaw. The creases in his t-shirt. The dirt smudges on his jeans. I’m starting to think something didn’t quite work out for him. He looks slightly disheveled. Keith used to be meticulous about his appearance.

“I was wrong, I was so wrong, Dakota. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. The truth is, I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t ready for awife, a kid.”

“She was four! It was a little too late for that.”

“I know that now. It took me a while,” he says. “All this time that I’ve been at sea, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how I treated you. As soon as my contract was over, I had to come see you.”

“Keith, we’re done. There is no turning back. Things will never be the way they were again because the way they were wasn’t okay, either.”

“I can do better,” he says. “I’ve grown a lot in this past year.”

“Maisie has grown a lot, too. Yet you haven’t asked to see a single picture of her.”

“You post her on social media once in a while. I see everything. And yeah, you’re right; Maisie has grown a lot. She’s so cute. Can I see her?”

I snort. “You know what you have to do first.”

“Come on, Dakota, that’s not fair. I hit a rough patch, but I’m going to get better. You can’t keep me from seeing my daughter.” He’s getting angry, which is preposterous in and of itself, considering the circumstances.

“You really do have quite the nerve. Showing up like this. Thinking that I might, what, exactly? Welcome you with open arms if you just say you’re sorry? Go to hell, Keith. We’re done. And you’re not allowed to see Maisie until you catch up on your child support payments. I’ve been raising our daughter on my own since you abandoned us to party with trust fund babies in the Caribbean. I don’t give a damn about your rough patch. This whole damn year has been a rough patch for me.”

“Please, let me just—”

“Get back!” I raise my voice when he tries to get closer.

He stills and raises his hands in a defensive gesture. The people around us stop and stare, waiting to see what might happen next. A security guard comes around from one of the aisles, watching us closely, likely trying to decide whether to step in or not. The last thing I need is more aggravation, however, and Keith seems spooked enough by my reaction.

---