Page 44 of His for the Holiday

20

SUTTON

At home in our apartment, I was working on my computer to set up a book fair at Dad’s store. Winnie’s voice filtered out of her bedroom into the living area and I smiled as I listened to her practice for her play tryout, which was tomorrow after school.

For all my uncertainty about bringing her here, she was adapting fast at school. It was a silver lining I clung to every damn day, knowing that at least I hadn’t jeopardized either her education or her dreams by moving to Portsmouth.

As I scrolled through the list of authors I wanted to reach out to about the fair, a notification popped up at the corner of my screen that I’d received a new email and my stomach dropped when I saw the name of the sender.

Calen Megill.

Bile rose at the back of my throat and my breathing faltered. My heart immediately lurched into my throat. I felt sick, cornered like a wild animal who knew it was about to get darted.

I hadn’t spoken directly to him in months, and if he was contacting me now, it couldn’t be good news. Protective instincts roared to life within me and my eyes narrowed to slits. My fingers rolled into fists on the keyboard.

If he thinks he’s going to try to take Winnie from me, he’d better be ready to put up the fight of the century.

The thought flew through my head before I could stop it, but the breath left my lungs as it occurred to me that he might be trying to get around our settlement agreement. Breathe, Sutton. Just breathe. The lawyer said it was iron clad, remember?

I forced myself to pull in some air, then released it slowly and repeated the process until I felt the panic starting to recede. Once I had calmed down enough that I could think again, I realized I hadn’t even read the email yet and I gingerly moved my cursor to the envelope, clicking quickly before I lost my nerve.

The message he’d sent filled the screen a moment later, and I groaned when I realized the panic hadn’t been entirely for nothing. Calen hadn’t contacted me to say he wanted her to move back to Stonehaven with him but apparently he had decided to come to Portsmouth for Thanksgiving.

While I knew she would love a visit from him, I knew better than to believe he would actually show up. Part of me was still panicky about what would happen if he did, but he wasn’t particularly reliable these days. Just because he’d sent an email expressing his intention to visit did not mean he would actually be getting on a plane.

I sighed deeply as I stared at the text on the screen, debating whether to respond. Nothing I said would make a difference anyway. He was either going to follow through or he wouldn’t, despite my feelings about the matter.

Besides, the settlement agreement stated that he was allowed to see his daughter and I wasn’t the type to try to keep him from her. She adored her father and he was no danger to her—except that it would break her heart if I told her he was coming and he wound up bailing on her the way he bailed on our marriage.

That, however, I could control.

Instead of rushing into her bedroom and breaking the news, I decided to play it by ear. I wouldn’t tell her a thing unless he confirmed when he’d be getting in. Until then, I’d keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to help him hurt her by getting her excited for a visit that might or might not actually happen.

After clicking out of the email, I got up and checked on our dinner in the oven, turning off the heat when I realized it was ready. “Win! It’s time to take a break and come eat, baby. Food’s ready.”

“Coming!” she called from her room, but it took a few minutes before she actually appeared. Beaming, she joined me at the table. “I think I’m ready for the tryout. Did you hear me practice? Did I sound good?”

“So good, darling.” I smiled, dishing up for us. She told me all about her day and the play.

Later on, once she’d gone to bed, I drifted down to the main house, needing to talk to someone and knowing that my mom liked having a glass of wine on the back deck after dinner. That was where I found her.

Already bundled up in her pajamas and a dressing gown, she sat on an armchair with her legs tucked in underneath her and her graying hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. I smiled as her gaze slid to mine.

“Want some company?”

“I’d love that. Just grab your own glass.” She motioned at the blanket on her lap. “Maybe bring another one of these with you.”

I collected a glass and a blanket before I headed back outside, taking Dad’s usual seat and getting comfortable. She poured me some wine. As she handed it over, she peered into my eyes and pursed her lips.

“What did he do now?”

“Who?”

She chuckled. “Calen. You look like you’ve smelled something terrible. Every time you have that look on your face these days, it’s because of him, so what has he done now?”

“He’s planning to come see Winnie at Thanksgiving,” I admitted. “Am I really that transparent?”

“To me,” she said knowingly. “I am your mother, darling. You’ve always been transparent to me. What did you say to him?”