Page 11 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

I’ll protect them and make sure they never know this level of hurt, this level of betrayal.

The sound of the zipper brings me back to the present as Carmen closes the suitcase and I look around the room—really look—for the first time. Her clothes are gone from the closet, her perfumes gone from the dresser, books and jewelry nowhere in sight.

This is only the last of her things, and I hadn’t even noticed she’d been dismantling our life this entire time.

“We had fun, Cullen. I put in my time and now we both need to move on.”

I look around the bedroom we’d shared as she belittled a decade together with a single phrase. As if this was simply a breakup and not the severing of lives.

If this is who she is, really and truly, then Isla and I are better off without her. I’ll never subject my daughter to this wench of a woman who believes “fun” can equate to the destruction she’s caused our family.

The other part of her statement rolls around in my head, and I bite back every vile thing I want to spew at her for thinking sheput in her time.Marriage isn’t a God damn job—this isn’t tenure—and she sure as hell didn’t provide the love and support that would show she had a fucking heart in her chest.

“Leave your key. Anything else you need can be arranged through our lawyers and the court.”

“Careful,” she says as she wheels her suitcase out of the room, “I can still fight you for custody. They almost always rule in the mother’s favor.”

“You willnotuse my daughter as a bargaining chip. She is mine. I’ll pay you whatever the court decides, and then it’s done and you’ll leave us the fuck alone.”

She shrugs. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

A ragged breath fills the air as the door slams behind her. Panic grips me and I let the feeling wash over me and then discard it like Carmen did so easily with our life. I push everything as far down as I can—the heartbreak and the anguish and the betrayal.

I steel myself for the days, weeks, and months ahead and the hell Carmen will inevitably rain down on me. I’ll take it.

I’ll take it all if it means that Isla is safe. Turning, I reach for my phone. I won’t go down without a fight, and the first round starts now.

6

CULLEN

PRESENT DAY

“What are you thinkin’ so hard about out here?” Gwen asks as she takes the seat next to me on the porch swing. I’d heard her pull up to the small house I’d purchased shortly before arriving in Clementine Creek, her presence a balm to my runaway thoughts.

I give her a small smile as I take her hand and intertwine our fingers before placing them both in my lap. The last couple of weeks had been mentally and emotionally exhausting. The joy surrounding my daughter’s pregnancy was almost too much for me to handle. And even though I was thankful to be here, the betrayal of my ex-wife never failed to taint my happiness.

It’s not that I still loved her—I didn’t—it was that I’d allowed the anguish to consume me and it almost cost me my relationship with Isla. Every day was a constant reminder that I needed to focus on the here and now and to put the past to rest.

Easier said than done.

“Just counting my blessings.” She squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything. She knows that emotional days with Isla—good or bad—require a little time for me to decompress afterwards. “I was thinking about how much work I still have to do to make up the years to my daughter and how even when I was an asshole she never completely wrote me off. When my niece called her to say I’d had a heart attack, Isla dropped everything to be with me. I can’t wrap my head around it most days.”

“I think she knew deep down that you were hurting—hell, you’re still hurting. It’s going to take time but now that the channel of communication is open, it will be easier to work through it with her.”

“Feels daunting sometimes,” I say with a sad smile.

“It can be. But you’re loved here. Your daughter loves you and she’s forgiven you for what’s happened.” Gwen waits till I turn my head to look at her. “You need to forgive yourself.”

“I’m trying,” I admit and she nods.

“I know.” She kisses my cheek. “It’s hard to work through everything, but you’ve been working hard. Everything else is just like the seasons.”

“What?” I ask.

“People are like the seasons, Cullen. I think y’all call itfair weather fansin the sports world where people want to latch on to you when you’re in the prime of your success, but once there’s a storm, you see just how temporary those people can be.”

Nodding, I say, “Our life in Chicago wasn’t like this.”

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