Page 10 of Daddies' Holiday Toy

A local wedding for a bride I’ve met a few times, an outdoor venue in the parking right across from the store.

It’s the perfect place to host something small and intimate, especially since the local Parks and Rec department decorated for the upcoming holiday.

Now that I think about it, I’ll have to start whipping up extra trays of sugar cookies for any locals who end up wandering by that day and stop to watch the ceremony.

Maybe a few holiday pies to put on display in the window to grab people’s attention, too.

It’s past Thanksgiving, but who doesn’t love a little reminder?

Maybe I can even take a suggestion out of my best friend’s checklist and start up a social media page like she’s been telling me to do for ages.

Posting photos of my daily menu and begging the algorithm to show mercy on me and get me in front of local customers.

I’ll doliterallyanything to try and turn this blessing into a full-on miracle.

But when I glance down at my phone right before I reach over to start up the oven, the screen flashes with new email notifications. The name on it has my stomach dropping instantly.

It’s my bridal client.

Hopefully to add on another dessert.

Maybe a smash cake for their eight month old?

Tapping on the notification, I read the one message I’ve never wanted to find sitting in my inbox:Hi there, Holly. We regret to inform you that the wedding has been canceled so your services will no longer be needed.

Fuck.

It’s like a knife to the gut.

The bride and groom have decided to part ways amicably. Sorry for the inconvenience.

My throat burns as I clutch my phone.

“No,” I whisper hoarsely, my voice cracking on the word.

Oh my god. Now what?

I can already see theFOR LEASEsign in my front window, the last of my dreams dissolving like sugar in hot coffee.

I press my palms to my face, trying to block out the thought but it’s no use.

The numbers don’t lie, and neither do my now non-existent orders. Mr. Larkin wants his money, and he isn’t going to wait around forever for me to get it to him.

He’s made thatabundantlyclear.

The holidays aren’t going to save me like I wanted them to.

Unbidden, my mother’s voice echoes in my head.“Your father’s looking for someone to clean his cabin.”

Goddammit.

Letting out a long, self-suffering sigh, I grab my phone and scroll through my contact list until my thumb hovers over his name.

Dad.

The word feels foreign to me, even now.

There have only been a few times in my life where I’ve actually considered him as more than a sperm donor to my mom.