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But then I think about the baby growing in my belly. It’s not about what I want anymore.

It’s about what’s best for our baby.

“I do,” I admit in a barely audible voice.

Wyatt steps closer, reaching for my face and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Then I forgive you.” He covers my mouth with his and pulls my body against his.

But I don’t kiss him back. Not really. I can’t. I’m too stunned by his response.

You’d think after I came clean, he’d want to do the same. Clear the air. Give us a fresh start.

Instead, he acts as if I’m the one at fault. Like I’m the one who destroyed our marriage.

If he’s not willing to open up about his own mistakes, can this really work?

Or did I already make the wrong choice?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

JOSHUA

This poinsettia is dying.

I set down the spray bottle and pinch the dead leaf between my fingers, pulling it free before inspecting the rest of the plant.

I know plants. Know how to keep them alive. Know how to protect them from temperature swings and all the other things that can threaten them.

But apparently, I can’t even keep a fucking poinsettia alive right now.

I toss the leaf into my bucket and grab my pruning shears. This plant may be dying, but I can at least make it look good on its way out.

“What are you still doing here?”

I look away from the plant as Bennett strolls through the lobby of the Inn at Holley Ridge, probably on his way to his car after his shift.

“Working. Same as you.”

“I’m a bartender. I always work late. You usually don’t. Except these past two or three days. Lately you’ve been working from morning until past midnight.”

“It’s almost Christmas,” I say dismissively, as if that’s all the reason he needs.

The truth is, I’ve practically lived at Holley Ridge over the past few days.

I’ve watered the plants. Trimmed the hedges. Checked the irrigation lines. Reorganized the maintenance shed. Fixed a railing on the east terrace that didn’t actually need fixing. And this morning, I spent three hours pressure-washing the exterior of the barn, which I’d done just a week ago.

If there’s a task that needs to be done, I’ve done it.

If there’s nothing to do, I’ve found something to do.

All to avoid running into Wynter. Or thinking about her.

But it’s been impossible.

We may have only been together for two weeks. But in those two weeks, she managed to invade every fucking corner of my life.

Everywhere I turn, I find memories of her. Of us. I’ve even gone back to sleeping in my old room. It’s the only one in my house that hasn’t been tainted. My only safe space.

But all it takes is a single look out the window at her parents’ house, and everything hurts all over again.