Page 45 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

“They are long hours.” I wasn’t sure why my grandma still wanted to deal with the business and not retire.

“And between me and you…” He looked around as though someone were listening. “She’s got money issues. Funeral expenses she had to take loans on for her parents and Kevin. I guess a bunch of old medical debt from her mom. She’s been struggling.”

Fuck.I hated to hear that she was struggling at all. She had lost her family, but it seemed she’d started one too.

It wasn’t a matter of her big brother not being here to protect her and handle the hardships of life for her. It was just that life had hit her hard. That didn’t mean that I had to accept it.

“Sara hates that it’ll drive Blake out of town sooner or later.”

What?I scowled at this news. “Why?”

“Mainly to find somewhere with better work opportunities. I bet Jenny pays her well, but it’s still just a small-town business.”

“Grandma Jenny never wanted to expand the catering company to stay in Vernford,” I added. If she branched out to cater outside of town, she’d have bigger-paying jobs.

“Yeah.” Cole nodded. At the sight of the long line for hot cocoa, he shook his head and said he wasn’t interested anymore. Once we walked back toward the tent I found him in, he continued what he had been saying. “That’s how it is in a small town. Great place to raise a family, but not a lot of jobs or competitive pay in jobs.”

I didn’t like the sound of any of this. I knew what he was saying. Vernford was quaint and cute. Small and limited. I wondered again if Blake’s previous goals of going to the city had fallen apart when she had George.

It wasn’t my business. None of what she did had to be my business just because we slept together, but my stomach clenched with dread at the idea that she’d move. “I wonder what Grandma Jenny would think about losing Blake as an employee.”

“She’d hate it,” Cole guessed, “but no one can blame her for doing the best she can do, even with difficult decisions.” He slowed his pace and pointed ahead at the tent. “Uh-oh.”

I looked and saw what he’d indicated. George frowning next to Brent laughing at him.

“I’m getting sick of this shit,” Cole muttered as someone gestured for his attention.

“Me too,” I said, defensive of the smaller boy. I hadn’t been here long enough to claim I’d witnessed this often, but two episodes of bullying were too much.

“Hang on. I’ll be right back,” Cole said as he went to the woman waving him down. I approached George and waved.

“Hi, Mr. Stranger.”

“Only wimpy girls wanna color with pink,” Brent teased.

I looked down at the table they were standing at. The surface was cluttered with crafty stuff like coloring pages, crayons, and pencils, and I could see where George had used a pink marker to color in the shape of a gift box under a tree.

“Oh, they do?” I pulled out a chair and sat, staring at Brent and daring him to speak. I grabbed a paper, slid it over, and started coloring a page with a hot-pink crayon. It was tiny in my hand, but I didn’t stop.

George beamed, reclaiming his seat and coloring again. Brent walked off, scowling.

“Do you like to color a lot?” George asked me.

There’s not a lotta coloring in the military…But then again, I wasn’t in the military anymore. “No. Not really.” I wouldn’t lie to him. “Do you?”

He nodded, focusing on his paper. At the top, he’d already written in blocky lettersTo: Mom. I Love You.

I smiled.

“Did you color a lot when you were a kid?” he asked.

“No.”

He paused, looking up at me. “How come?”

“My dad sort of had the same attitude as Brent does. He wanted me to do ‘boy’ things and thought art was too ‘girly’.”

“Oh.” He lowered his head and colored, seeming sadder.

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