Page 46 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Dakota strikes me as the kind of woman who opens up in layers. We need a balance of forces here,” I say, keeping my voice low. “It’s not that I’m concerned that we’re going to scare her away, but we have to be patient. It’s that simple.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” Archer sighs.

As soon as Dakota comes back into the room with a large bowl of freshly popped corn, the entire mood shifts. We make ourselves comfortable on the sofa, snacks and drinks on the coffee table in front of us while the beginning credits of the movie roll by on the large TV screen.

I can see what’s bothering my brothers. I can feel it, too. It surrounds Dakota like an exotic scent, one that tickles my senses, begging me to ask the questions we’re all itching to ask.

“What are we watching?” Dakota asks. “I didn’t recognize any of the actors’ names.”

“It’s supposed to be a really good Indie film, according to the crowds at the Tribeca Film Festival last year,” I reply.

She briefly checks her phone. “The kids are doing well. Chelsea has them watching TV in separate rooms. Maisie wantedBluey, and Trevor wantedTransformers. They couldn’t compromise, so she made an executive decision.”

“It’s a good thing Chelsea has more than one TV,” Archer says, his brow slightly furrowed. “Trevor can be so stubborn sometimes. Sorry if he’s making it harder on Maisie, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dakota says. “She’s a patient little girl. Besides, once she’s busy doing or watching something she likes, she completely tunes out,” she adds with a chuckle, then looks at me. “How are things coming along with Trevor? Is he opening up more?”

“Nah, if anything, he’s stirring up some trouble at school. Twice this week, I’ve had to pick him up from detention,” I reply. “I guess he needs to push the envelope a bit before he finally settles down.”

“Is that what the child psychologist said?”

“Yeah. He’s starting to come out of his shell a little bit, but the doctor believes he’s stuck in the anger stage of grief. It will reach a boiling point eventually, and we’re all going to have to be there for him tenfold when it does,” I explain, remembering my last conversation with Trevor’s therapist. “It’s a natural process. We need to let it run its course.”

“The therapist is right,” Dakota says. “He’s a good kid, though. Once he’s able to go through all the stages, I think he’ll be easier to handle, but that could take time, years even. The adjustment to a completely new family is hard for a child his age. Trust me, I’ve been there. Luckily, I landed at my grandma Sally’s house. In Trevor’s case, however, he isn’t with immediate family, which could be making things worse.”

“Speaking of grandmas,” Archer cuts in, tentatively putting an arm around Dakota’s shoulders.

He’s seated to her right while I’m on her left, with Maddox next to me. I shoot Archer a dirty look because I already know where he’s going with this.

“You never told us what happened at the funeral.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Dakota immediately replies, looking down.

That gesture is a subtle tell that she’s lying. I plant a kiss on her temple, breathing her in, and I feel her softening beside me ever so slightly. “I might sound like a broken record, but you do know that you can talk to us about anything, right? We’re here for you.”

“I know,” she says. “And thank you for that. But there’s not much to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Maddox mutters, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

Dakota leans forward a bit so she can stare at him with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I mean the movie. There’s no way you can jump off a rig like that and survive,” Maddox says, covering for himself after I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. I’m trying to keep thisevening about the four of us connecting, relaxing, and spending time together.

But Archer clearly has other ideas. He turns himself to face her. “Babe, come on. It’s obvious that something happened while you were there. What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she insists, and I can feel the tension stiffening her body. “I promise.”

“Dakota, is there anything we can do to help you?” I ask, though I’d rather just punch Archer in the face for going off-script like that.

“It was uncomfortable,” she sighs deeply. “I didn’t know anybody there except Callie. And she wasn’t any nicer to me than she was the first time I met her.”

“Did she say anything to you?” Archer asks, carefully analyzing Dakota’s expression.

She shrugs. “She’s hurt and grieving Katherine’s death. I went in there as a stranger, and I left the same way.”

“Why did they insist you be there, then?”

And there it is. That meaningful hesitation that I’d noticed before, but it has become sharply clear now. She is definitely holding something back, something important.

---