Something in his eyes heated, and his gaze bored into mine. “Of course I remember, K—Ms. Grindley.”
“My answer is the same. The trees are on private land.Myland. Having people come up and check out the decorations is a potential liability. I won’t be opening the area for that.”
I was proud of how my voice sounded, cool, professional, poised. All the opposites of what I was feeling inside. Inside was a seething mess of anger, hurt, fear… and desire. Some stupid part of me still desired, still wanted him. Stupid me. He nodded once, like he’d expected my answer.
“Can I ask why? And I don’t mean the legal stuff. I read the letters. I mean, why you really don’t want it?”
A cold little half-smile curled my lips. “You don’t get to ask me anything.”
His jaw clenched, but his voice stayed soft. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see. I’m just here ’cause this town loves that tradition and they barely know how to talk to you now with all the paperwork and gossip. I thought maybe you’d hear it different from somebody you actually know.”
“Someone I know?” I scoffed. “I don’t know you.”
Everything about him tightened, his posture, his jaw, his hands. “You might not want to, but youdoknow me. Just like I know you, and I know you didn’t come back here just to sit in this house and look down on everything through your frosted glass doors. That ain’t even you, Kyleigh. You care more than that.”
“It’s Ms. Grindley, and you don’t know what I care about,” I snapped. “You gave up the right to assume anything about me when you let my business turn into a joke on a stage.”
His eyes went sad at that. “I’m sorry. I been sorry every day. I don’t expect you to forgive me ’cause I showed up talking about them damn trees. I didn’t forget, Ms. Grindley. And I’m sorry you hurting.”
I kissed my teeth. “Hurting? Nothing or nobody in this town can hurt me. And your being sorry doesn’t do anything for me. It didn’t then. It doesn’t now.”
He nodded, accepting the lie, exhaling slowly. “Okay,” he said. “Then let me talk like just another person from this town, not your ex. People trying to do something that bring them joy. We not asking to build nothing permanent. Just lights and ornaments for a few weeks. You wouldn’t even have to see it if you didn’t want to.”
“I’d know it was there. That’s enough.”
He stared at me. “You really hate it that much?” he asked. “Christmas?”
I shrugged. “I don’t ‘hate’ anything. I have boundaries. I prefer my land not be used for a celebration I want no part of, by people who have nothing to say to me until they want something.”
“You really believe that? That nobody in this town care about you unless they trying to get something?” He looked at me like I was pitiful.
“Is that all you came for, Mr. Christopher?” I asked, avoiding that question.
Of course, he didn’t give up easily. He never did. “Zahara said you got a little one in here,” he said softly.
I froze before a fine trembling took over my body. I didn’t want him asking anything about Aziza. Not yet. I’d tell him one day, just not now. I managed to keep my face smooth.
“I do, but whoever lives in this house is none of your concern,” I responded coldly.
He lifted his hands, palms out. “I ain’t say it was. And look, Ms. Grindley, I understand why you don’t like me, but you ain’t gon’ keep handling me.” His tone was suddenly rougher, more aggressive. I swallowed but didn’t drop eye contact. “All I was saying is that the baby here and all these babies around deserve joy, too. Community celebrations give ‘em that. That’s all.”
“Are your people watching my house?” I asked, nervous.
He shook his head, his face twisted into a scowl. “No. My people live up the road. They walk by and see her by that fence you put around here. Nobody checking for your place like that. My family would never.” His eyes held mine. “You know I’d never do no shit like that.”
“I don’t know you,” I said again.
Silence stretched. Then he nodded.
“Whatever. A’ight. You want us to stop coming to you about the trees?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to stop showing up, period?” he asked.
Every part of me screamed “yes” and “no” at the same time.
“Yes,” I said, for my sake and Aziza’s.
