Page 4 of The Wish List
She frowned. “No. He walked away when he found out I was pregnant. It’s Asher and me.”
“No family?”
She shook her head, color staining her cheeks again, this time darker. “No. They disowned me when they found out I was pregnant and not marrying the father.”
I felt her hurt in the simple words and saw the flash of pain in her eyes. The high color in her cheeks was anger.
“My mother died last year. My father didn’t even tell me. I heard he already remarried.”
“So, you’re alone.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “And you?”
“I have a sister, as I mentioned. And a niece I adore. I tolerate her husband,” I added with a wink. I actually liked him a great deal, and we got along well. “My business is my life, to be honest.”
“Ah.”
That was all she said. No inquiries about my job, my life, my financial status, nothing. She watched Asher carefully, tensing if he disappeared for a moment. I laid my hand on hers, squeezing her fingers. “He is perfectly safe in here, Rosie. I’m watching him as well.”
“I was waiting to pay for his picture with Santa. I blinked, and he was gone.” She shook her head. “He’s never done that before. Disappeared on me. It-it was scary.”
Flipping my palm, I slipped my hand under hers, unable to stop touching her. Our skin slid together, and I entwined our fingers. She stared at our hands, then lifted her eyes to mine. I wondered if she felt that odd connection I did. I hated seeing the worry in her expression. The exhaustion that showed under her eyes. Something inside me wanted, needed, to ease both negative inputs in her life. Anything that bothered her needed to be gone.
I was so shocked by my thoughts, I had to lower my head and clear my throat before I spoke.
“I’m sure it was frightening. It must be a difficult thing to be a single parent. But he’s fine and safe. So try to relax.”
She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“We come here every year,” she said, sliding her hand away and wrapping it around her mug. I was surprised at the sensation of loss I experienced when we were no longer touching. I picked up my own mug and sipped as she kept talking. I liked the sound of her voice. Low, quiet, sweet.
“I did as a child as well,” she continued. “My grandmother brought me until I was fifteen. She died then.” She paused, swallowing. “Zoles always had the best Santa. They still do. And the displays are wonderful. I loved them.”
“Well, obviously, AJ shares your feelings.”
She smiled.
“So, you have his picture taken every year?”
She nodded, a small frown on her face. “The price skyrocketed this year. I wasn’t sure I could swing it, but it’s a tradition, so I scrimped and saved on some other things so we could do it. I knew AJ would be disappointed. And I couldn’t bring him here to look at the displays and not see Santa,” she explained. “You can’t discuss finances with a small child.”
I studied her. “Is that why you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” I asked.
She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “Oh, no. I was trying to get him ready, and we ran out of time.”
She was a horrible liar. In my business life, I knew how to spot one, and she was one of the worst I had ever seen. But I let it go, understanding it was a point of pride for her.
But I didn’t like it.
“Besides, it was on his wish list. I can’t deny his wish list. He really asks for so little.”
“I see.” I crossed my legs. “Does his momma have a wish list?”
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “No. Not one I would share anyway. I keep it pretty close to my chest.”
I sipped my coffee, having a sinking feeling that her wish list contained far more sensible things than her son’s did.
That bothered me as well, and I couldn’t explain why.
