Page 96 of His Christmas Wife

Managing her own feelings was difficult as well.

Christmas dinner had been somber, even though everyone in the family tried their best to act happy. Maybe they should have acknowledged how difficult the day was instead of all trying to be brave for each other.

Too bad Kaylee hadn’t thought of that until the next day.

Not that her lack of resourcefulness was a surprise.

Since she’d started the charade with Frost, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. And the numerous conversations she’d had with Sylvia had added to her emotional upset.

Even making the decision to leave Christoff—and Frost—hadn’t soothed Kaylee as she hoped it would. Generally, once a situation was resolved in her mind, her mood improved. This time, if anything, it became worse.

She missed him, ached to talk to him, to be with him, catch up. Had he been to the office to see her resignation letter? If he had, what was his reaction?

It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

No matter what she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him, couldn’t get over him.

She told herself to be grateful she had this time with her family; otherwise she’d be at home alone, since her new job didn’t start until the middle of January.

So far, she’d volunteered at the shelter, taken a couple of walks, a dozen baths, and read up on the company she and Sylvia would be joining.

But still, she had too many hours in the day.

That sense of unease tickled her spine again.

And this time, her pulse skittered to a halt.

Frost.

Headed her direction, eyebrows furrowed intently, gaze locked on her, his strides purposeful.

She needed to run.

But fear held her in its icy fingers.

Frantically she lied to herself. He hadn’t seen her, or he was headed to another table.

But then he closed the distance between them and stopped next to her, close enough that she inhaled his sense of ruthless determination.

“Kaylee.”

Him being here was no accident. How she knew that, she didn’t know, but she was one hundred percent certain of it. Evan Frost had sought her out and had allowed nothing to stand in his way.

Obviously he’d seen the resignation letter.

Her mother tipped her head to one side, and the kids stopped arguing to look at the newcomer.

Since he didn’t walk away, she had no choice but to perform introductions. “Mom, this is Evan Frost, my—” She started again, “Former boss.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Mr. Frost, my mom, Laura Witt.”

“A pleasure, ma’am.” He flashed a devastating smile. “You raised a beautiful daughter. My grandmother loves her.”

Did Ophelia still think that she and Frost were getting married?

“I wish I could say I’ve heard anything good about you.”

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