“Sabrina? Wasn’t that my mom’s name?”
Shoot. When had Isla come up beside him? Pushing a hand through his hair, he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep a curse from escaping. “Go find your shoes, kiddo. We need to leave soon.”
Isla’s brow furrowed, and for a minute, he thought she was about to argue. She’d tiptoed around the subject before, sometimes bringing up specific memories of her time with her mother. She wasn’t old enough to recall much, and their conversations usually ended in tears, which was why he went to great lengths not to talk about Sabrina in front of the girls. Thankfully, his daughter’s mouth only formed into a deep pout this time. She turned with slumped shoulders.
Christian latched onto Pumpkin’s collar as the dog sauntered by him. “Take the dog with you, please.”
Isla backtracked, beckoning for Pumpkin to follow, before continuing toward the house. She passed Penelope playing with one of the gourds lining the porch steps.
“You really should encourage your girls’ curiosity about their mother,” Carrie said once Isla was out of ear shot, adopting her usual I-know-everything-about-parentingtone.
Sure, because I’m really looking forward to the day I have to break the news that their mother didn’t want them.No child deserved that weight on their shoulders.
“I’m handling the situation, thank you.” Christian’s jaw hurt from clenching it. Sometimes keeping his composure could be a real test of self-control. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep it in check today.
One of Carrie’s dogs nipped at his legs while another tangled itself in the remaining lights. Christian scowled at them both.
“They really deserve to know what happened to the woman who gave birth to them,” Carrie said, shortening the dogs’ leashes.
Christian didn’t comment, going back to wrapping the lights around the drainpipe.
“Those girls already struggle so much, they should at least know they had a mother who loved them.”
Were they talking about the same Sabrina? Mothers who loved their children didn’t abandon them.
He continued wrapping, not falling for her concerned air. There was nothing sincere in her syrupy-sweet tone.
Circling the lights tighter with each rotation around the metal, he tried to tune out Carrie’s unsolicited advice. Her words swirled through his head like the grownups in the Charlie Brown movies, mixing with her dogs’ yipping at something outside his peripheral vision.
“I think she just felt trapped in her marriage,” Carrie said as though she weren’t talking to the very husband her friend had been married to. “But she really did love those girls.”
Christian circled the lights into another loop around the pipe.
“They deserve to know that,” Carrie continued. “Don’t you agree?”
One of the bulbs shattered against the metal pipe, slicing his finger and his composure in one swoop.
“No, I don’t,” he snapped, dropping the lights. “Sabrina’s not dead. She chose to leave. I refuse to subject my girls to that reality.”
He started toward the house before whirling to face her again.
“And while we’re on the subject of children, I’d appreciate if you’d tell yours to stop bullying mine.” Lifting Penelope into his arms, he stalked toward the front door, leaving a stunned Carrie in the yard with her annoying mutts.
That could’ve gone better.He slammed the door behind him and set Penelope down. She toddled off to play with some toys she’d left in the living room before going outside.
Resting his back against the door, he sucked on his finger to stop the bleeding while reeling in his anger. He shouldn’t have lost his temper out there. His name would be as good as mud by tomorrow.
Was it too much to ask for someone—anyone—to give him a break for once? He’d made one impulsive choice seven years ago. And no matter how hard he tried to move on from it, he couldn’t get away from the constant reminder of what a dumpster fire his life had become.
A rare bout of dread hovered over Hallie as she sat at her desk chair, entering the last expense to the budget software she used to track her business finances. She’d just returned from shopping for the Autumn Festival, and the chunk of cash it took to purchase everything she needed for those two days had made quite a dent in her already declining bank account.
She blinked at the number displaying the remaining total at the bottom of the screen. At this rate, she only had a few more months until the money she’d meticulously saved during college ran out.
“You’ll make it up next weekend,” she muttered to herself, drawing as much optimism as she could from speaking the assurance out loud. She didn’t doubt her baking skills. It was the businessy stuff—the branding, marketing, finances, etcetera—on top of the baking that proved more difficult than she’d realized. In the five months since finishing college and transitioning into the real world, she’d figured out quickly that she wasn’t super woman. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to do it all.
Closing out of the budget software, she sighed at the job listing for an assistant baker at Crème de la Crème, a bakery near her alma mater. She’d found it on a job listing site she’d perused before leaving for the store. She didn’t love the idea of fighting the city traffic to get to work every day, but she’d managed it while going to school. And maybe working there would give her a few years of valuable experience. That would be good in the long run, right?
“Are you ready for girls’ night?” Beej asked, breezing through the open doorway into Hallie’s room. She still wore her light pink nurse’s scrubs from her shift on the pediatric floor of Buena Hills Hospital, and her tight blonde curls were piled in a messy bun on her head.Kendall entered behind her, and they both made themselves at home on the bed.
