Page 34 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just… I really miss you, Dakota.”

“Go miss me somewhere else,” I bluntly reply. “I explained the terms and conditions, and they’re a direct result of your behavior and your failure to comply with the court order. And just to be clear, I will reach out to my lawyer and get him involved if that’s what it takes. Now, I’d like to continue with my grocery shopping and not let you ruin the rest of my day.”

With that, I leave Keith standing in the produce aisle and make my way over to the frozen foods section, constantly glancing over my shoulder. To my relief, he doesn’t follow me, but it’s only when I see him walk out the front door and get in his car that I’m able to fully breathe again. I’m shaking like a leaf by the time I get to the register. I barely pay attention to what’s happening, my hands moving robotically as I bag my groceries and pay the cashier.

Once I’m back behind the wheel of my beat-up Honda, I finally come apart at the seams. I start crying, rivers flowing down my hot cheeks as everything comes back to me and emotions overwhelm me. What is Keith doing trying to get back into my life—and into Maisie’s?

I’ve found comfort and something truly soothing, something special, with the Faulkner triplets. Chelsea continues to be my constant support. Life was finally getting better despite my financial troubles. And then Keith had to come along and throw a monkey wrench into the whole scenario.

Who the hell does he think he is?

11

Maddox

Dakota has been different the last couple of days.

Morose, I’d say. She isn’t the gloomy type. She’s always focused and present, but lately, I can feel her slipping away from our conversations. Tonight, we are chilling at our house, sprawled along the sofa in front of the giant, wall-mounted TV.

Trevor is fast asleep in his room upstairs. Archer is in charge of keeping an eye on him while Reed and I entertain Dakota. Or, better said, try to entertain her. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood for any sort of amusement, though.

“How’s Maisie?” I ask.

We’re watching a movie, a 1960s flick with Cary Grant. There’s popcorn by the bucketful and plenty of ice-cold lemonade on the coffee table in front of us. Reed comes back from the kitchen with a bag of salted caramel chocolates—Dakota’s favorite.

Out of the three of us, Reed tends to pay more attention to the small stuff. I’m more focused on figuring out a way of getting more money into her bank account. I know she’s working hardto make ends meet, and I also know she’ll never accept any financial support from us. Not directly, anyway.

“She’s probably in dreamland by now,” Dakota sighs, her gaze fixed on the screen. “Chelsea’s with her.”

“What did I miss?” Reed cuts in, taking his seat next to her.

“I’m not sure,” she says.

I put the film on pause and look at her. “Okay, what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Dakota gives me a confused look.

“You’re not yourself,” I say.

Reed nods in agreement. “There’s none of your usual banter or witty comebacks. You actually seem kind of sad or lost, maybe. Talk to us, Dakota. We’re here.”

She sighs softly, resting her head on my shoulder. It fills me with warmth, the kind of warmth I had forgotten about until Dakota came along.

She needs a minute, and we give it to her, watching quietly as she reaches for one of the salted caramel chocolates, gingerly unwrapping it before she pops it into her mouth. My gaze lingers on her lips for a moment. I can almost taste her.

“It’s nothing too serious,” Dakota says once she’s done swallowing her little morsel of comfort.

I can hear it in her voice. It is kind of serious.

“I promise.”

“Dakota—”

“My ex is back in San Francisco,” she blurts out.

I can feel her trembling ever so slightly while nestled against me. Reed frowns and scoots an inch away on the couch, carefully eyeing her.

“Your ex-husband. Maisie’s father.”

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