Page 137 of Daddies' Holiday Toy

“But?” she prompts gently.

I glance down at my hands, rubbing my thumb along the edge of my apron.

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

She sighs.

“You’re twenty-four, Hol. It’s not your only chance.”

Twenty-four isn’t old, I know that.

I know I could wait five years, ten even, and still be fine.

But there’s this quiet, gnawing ache that won’t let go.

The whisper that maybe, for me, thisisthe moment.

That maybe waiting means never.

I don’t say it out loud, but Mallory can probably see it written all over my face.

She studies me for a long moment, not saying anything while she stews.

Finally, I give her the truth I’ve been too afraid to voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever let a man touch me again after this. Not because I’m disgusted, just…because I know no one will ever treat me the way they did. As good as they did. Why bother trying to replace something when I already know it’s impossible?”

Her brows knit, and for once she doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

When she does speak, her voice is careful. “You’re romanticizing them because you’re hurt. But you have to be realistic, too.”

“Iambeing realistic. I’m not saying they were perfect. But they weremine. And now they’re gone. And the only thing I have left of them is…”

The words stick in my throat. My lips press together before I can finish.

Mallory’s eyes soften with a quiet kind of understanding. “The baby.”

I nod, barely.

We let the silence stretch.

My eyes focus on nothing, my thoughts scrambling in a thousand different directions.

Finally, I manage, “I’ll think about it after Christmas. I’m not far along, so if I decide to…to get rid of it, I can still do it after the holiday.”

She exhales.

“Okay. That’s…that’s good. I just want you to think about your options, you know? But whatever you choose, I’m here.”

I lift my gaze to her, forcing a faint smile. “I know.”

The phone at the counter rings.

The sharp, unexpected sound makes us both jolt.

My eyes flick automatically to the clock on the wall, the bakery’s been closed for an hour.

The phone almostneverrings this late unless it’s an anxious bride the night before her wedding.

And so far, I’ve got none of those on my books for the next few weeks.