Page 12 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

Beau set down his daughter’s cocoa and scone.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Oh, God. Had she just gone on a tear with this lovely young woman?

Had she blamed women she’d never met for the actions of their boyfriends and maybe him—the ex-husband?

She noticed Beau hadn’t gotten her a drink, and she didn’t blame him. He probably wanted to whisk his daughter away from the crazy lady.

Clearly, I’m not fit for social interaction just yet.

Go back to your room!

But instead of sitting down, he returned to the counter and got two more mugs, setting the vanilla chai latte in front of her. She did a double take when she saw the foam. Instead of the usual leaf, there was a heart.

Had he asked for that?

No way. You’re ridiculous.

The moment he sat down and dragged his chair closer to the table, Jessa said, “Dad, she says it’s your fault Mom’s a gold digger.”

Embarrassment sent a wave of heat through her body, burning her cheeks. “No, I didn’t. That’s not what I said at all.”

But he threw his head back and laughed.

“In my defense, I’ve only recently emerged from my cave after a divorce. And, obviously, I should crawl right back in.” Maybe this was why Aunt Lucy didn’t want her help. She could see the cracks and fissures, smell the sulfur leaking out. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“No, no. I want to know what you said.” His big hands cupped the mug, and he settled in for the conversation.

“I promise it had nothing to do with you and your wife—”

“Ex-wife.”

She nodded. “It was more the lesson I learned from my own experience. I’m just saying if I spend my life trying to figure out why my ex cheated, I’ll be stuck as a victim. Obviously, we can’t help doing a forensics on our relationships, but since we can’t get into other people’s heads, we might as well turn all that energy into figuring out our part in how it failed.”

“So, it’s our fault for being attracted to someone who cheats on us? Is that what I heard?” He asked the question genuinely.

A phone pinged, and his daughter read her screen. “Oh, okay. Dad, can I go up to your room for a few minutes? My advisor needs to go over a few things.”

“Sure.” He dug the old-fashioned key out of his pocket. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed her backpack and took off for the grand staircase.

Leaving Margot alone with the handsome stranger who might or might not be a cheating playboy. “I’m so sorry. You’re here to spend time with your daughter for the holidays, and I’m fire-hosing you with my self-reflection.”

“I’m actually interested in your theory.”

“Oh, man. It might not be anything more than the ravings of a woman spending her very first Christmas alone.”

“You sound pretty smart to me.”

Two things. One, he didn’t look at her with pity when she’d blurted out her sad story. Bonus points for that. (Also, note to self: shut up). And two, he’d kindly complimented her to ease the embarrassment of her outburst.

But he was waiting patiently for her to go on, so she figured she might as well make an attempt at sounding rational. “The first six months after finding out about the betrayal was a total roller coaster. At first, I was scared. I’m talking paralyzed by fear. But then, of course, anger set in. It was just so unfair. I’d been a good wife. I’d catered to his every need…” She pressed her lips together. He didn’t need to hear the whole tirade. “Finally, I made the conscious decision to stop thinking about him at all. Because it was over. He’d shown me his true character, and that was that. The only thing I could control was my future, and if I ever wanted to fall in love again, if I wanted to be happy, I needed to figure out who I am in a relationship.”

“That’s smart.”

“Because guess what? He never asked me to make him the center of my universe. It was my choice. I gave up my work to raise my kids. I gave it up a second time to support us when his career went sideways. All the choices are on me, so I can’t be angry with him—”

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