Page 17 of Yuletide Acres

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I’m so mixed up, I don’t know what to feel.

The man that I’ve spent a decade loving insults me and then kisses me in front of the entire office, right after reminding me that I mean nothing.

I feel like a pinball in a game straight from the bowels of hell.

I wish the kiss had been awful. I wish I had felt nothing.

I felt everything. I was so tempted to wrap my hands around his neck, run my fingers along his buzzed hair and sink into the kiss.

Just like I always did.

But he didn’t want to kiss me. He was cornered. Backed into it. He likely washed his mouth out with boiling water, wondering how many other men had touched my lips in the last decade.

If he only knew. Not that he’ll bother to ask. Dylan is fine working off assumptions.

“Are you okay?” a high-pitched voice asks to my right.

I glance up, wiping my eyes as I stare into a face that looks so much like Dylan.

Marissa.

“I’m fine. I just cry sometimes.”

The little girl sees through my lie, sitting beside me on the floor. I realize that I forgot to lock the door to the shop. Not that it matters. Dylan has made certain that is won’t ever open to the public. “I cry sometimes, too.”

“Does it make you feel better?”

Marissa nods. “That and chocolate. I like chocolate more than crying, though.”

I giggle despite the pain. “Smart choice. My name is Poppy.”

“I know. I’m Marissa. This is my grandmother.”

I startle, looking up from my seat on the ground. “Mrs. West. I didn’t realize that you were Dylan’s mother.”

Wonderful. Round two, apparently. This time, he’s sent the women in his life to do his bidding. They’ll likely escort me to the edge of the village, armed with pitchforks.

“What did that son of mine do now?”

Okay, that was unexpected. I shake my head, wiping the tears from my face. “He made it very clear that I’m not welcome in Yuletide Acres. Since he’s the boss, I’ll pack my things and move on.”

Estelle West settles onto the ground next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “You’ll do no such thing.”

“He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s all betwixt and between since your arrival, but I think that falls on the opposite end of the hate spectrum.”

I bark out a laugh. “Definitely not. He made his stance clear.”

“Personally, I think he’s behaving like an idiot. But most men do when a woman flips their world upside down.” She nudges me. “You’ve turned him on his head. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a woman do that. You must be very special to my son.”

“I thought I was, but I was mistaken. We were together for about a year, but then he left. I never thought I’d see him again. I certainly didn’t think when I did that he’d hate me. After all, he deserted me.” I break down again, hating the fact that I’m sobbing in front of the two most important ladies in Dylan’s life.

Marissa presses a handkerchief into my hand. “Here. It’s clean.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, blotting my eyes. I gaze at the hand embroidered cloth, my breath catching in my throat at the name sewn in the corner.

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