“I’ll remember,” I murmur, and then I very happily shut the door behind her and sit in front of my computer.

But before I get started, I call Ms. Duckworth to cancel Aidan’s involvement in her organization and also to give her a piece of my mind. They should have disclosed Jace’s ex-con status. No, they shouldn’t have allowed an ex-con into a program like that in the first place. After I’m done ranting, she says she understands, but she sounds sad. And she spouts off about extenuating circumstances and safety protocols. She’s nicer about it than I expected, and somehow I find myself apologizing toherfor no longer wanting to use their services.

After we hang up, I work up a quick text to Nicole.

I think this was all a mistake, Nicole. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t be the person you want me to be. I need to get it together for my son. I can’t be…

Buying vibrators. Lusting after cons.But I can’t bring myself to write either of those things, so I just delete those last three words.

I feel a weird tinge of disappointment as I send the text, but if I’ve learned anything today, it’s that I’ve been swimming in waters that are perilously deep. Just how deep, I’m about to find out, I suppose, as I set my phone down and return my attention to my computer.

Jace Hagan isn’t what you’d call a common name, and he mentioned where he’d grown up—Sydney, North Carolina—theother day at the Chocolate Lounge. It takes me no time at all to find an article about his arrest.

As I begin to read, I can’t help but frown, tapping the desk with my pen.

I didn’t expect this.

That car he mentioned? The one he’d stolen?

It happened sixteen years ago.

A rare car, the kind of old vehicle collectors go nuts over, was stolen from Lester Montague, the owner of the biggest construction company in the county. It was found the next day, completely wrecked—bashed with hammers, the engine removed, the seats slashed and splashed with paint—which suggested it was no random crime. If Jace had sold the car, he would’ve made big money, but he’d destroyed it instead. He’d gotten away with it too, until the “friend” who’d helped him steal it came into hard times and turned him in.

Jace went to prison for something he had done as a kid.

As far as I can tell, he hasn’t even broken a traffic law since he turned twenty-one.

I feel something inside of me softening. When he first told me, my mind was swamped with dozens of doomsday scenarios that would probably put Josie’s predictions to shame, but this…

He made a bad decision—an incredibly shortsighted and stupid one—but he’s not a supervillain intent on exploiting nonprofit organizations to corrupt Asheville’s youth. If anything, it’s obvious that what he did, and the punishment for it, were very personal.

Oh God, did I make a mistake?

I may not want Jace spending time alone with my son—the last thing I need is for Aidan to get any ideas about (a) theft, (b) revenge, or (c) the best ways to destroy something expensive—but I didn’t need to publiclyhumiliatehim. Now that the worst of the panic has left me, I find myself thinking of the look inJace’s eyes after I accused him—loudly—of those terrible things. My worst fear is that I’ll be stared at, talked about, hated, and I did that tohim. If I hadn’t reacted so impulsively, so monstrously, maybe we could have worked something out—hot chocolate dates, like we had at the Chocolate Lounge. Outings with the three of us. But now?

There’s a weird pulse of longing in me, maybe because I’d wanted that with Glenn, in the beginning—family outings where we’d bring Aidan to a pumpkin patch, ice skating, or to sit on Santa’s lap. But Glenn had always told me I was “better with Aidan,” and he’d come up with some reason why he couldn’t join us in any such family activities. Especially when it turned out that Aidan didn’t feel comfortable wearing borrowed skates, sitting on the laps of pretend Santas, or being anywhere there was shouting and loud, piped music. Last Christmas, Glenn didn’t even decorate the tree with us.

I’m being foolish, of course. Absolutely ridiculous. Jace wanted to spend time with Aidan, not me, and now I’m pretty sure he never wants to see me again. Which means I have to tell Aidan that he can no longer see the one friend he’s made in Asheville who isn’t tied to us by blood or in a committed relationship with one of my sisters.

My phone buzzes with a text, and for one wild, irrational moment, I’m sure it’s him. Maybe he’ll tell me what he really thinks of me. Maybe he’ll say that Glenn was right to leave me. Maybe…

I let my heart slow a little before I turn the phone over, but the text is from Nicole.

HA. No. You are not off the hook. In fact, my sources tell me you had lunch with some super-hot dude. Your son’s buddy? I’m hoping this means you’ve “run some laps.” Next meeting is Friday. Drinks. I know Aidan is going to be in Charlotte, so no excuses.

She’s bossy as heck, but I find myself smiling.

I guess it’s because she didn’t give up on me, even though I’ve given her every reason to.

At least I still have one of my sharks. Tina is clearly her source, which is embarrassing given the way we dashed from the restaurant, but at least Tina didn’t overhear my awful outburst by the food truck.

Okay. And I can confirm the purchase has been made.

She responds with an eggplant emoji.

I spendthe rest of the afternoon trying to think up the right blend of distraction and consolation for my son. Because IknowAidan’s going to be upset.

Jace was right. Aidan’s father abandoned him. Santa abandoned him by being fake. And now yet another man is about to slip out of his life. This time, it’s my fault, and I don’t intend to dodge the blame, even though my son already blames me for the loss of his father and holiday magic.