Page 149 of Daddies' Holiday Toy

Not even close.

But for the first time since this whole thing blew up, it feels like maybe, just maybe, we’re all facing the same direction.

34

HOLLY

If hell had a waiting room, I’m pretty sure it would look like my week.

Word spreads faster than the flu in this town.

Normally, I don’t give a damn about the things people say.

Growing up poor with an absent father and a single mother, I’ve heard it all—slut, white trash, pity case, charity case.

If anything, it’s made my skin thick enough to survive adulthood without crying into my pillow every night from a few bad customer interactions.

But this?

This feels way different.

It’s not just my reputation people are tearing apart now that word’s gotten out I’m pregnant by one of my father’s friends, it’s my business.

My bakery.

The one thing I’ve poured every scrap of myself into these last few years.

One by one, my orders started cancelling and disappearing.

First, it was Mrs. Price canceling the cookies for her church group with a thinly veiled excuse of,“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, we’ve decided to go in a different direction.”Then the Marshalls dropped their Christmas pie order, blaming a sudden“dietary change”that I know for a fact is bullshit because I saw Mr. Marshall inhaling three cinnamon rolls just last week while passing by the diner.

And then there were the blunt ones.

“Sorry, I can’t support someone who’s…you know. Setting a bad example for the community.”

Translation: they don’t want a “tramp” who doesn’t even know who the father is between three separate grown men twice her age making their desserts, or even touching the precious food devoured by their greedy mouths.

It’s not just the loss of income that pisses me off the most, though that’s terrifying enough as it is considering I just got back on track, it’s watching everything I’ve built go up in flames before it even had a chance to soar.

My reputation as a baker is dead, all my hard work to keep my business afloat now gone.

At this rate, I’ll have to close my doors within the month.

And for what?

Because my mother couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

Oh, and in case the universe wanted to twist the knife, apparently my parents are back together now.

Maggie and Carson, playing happy family.

Cute, right?

This week has been one long nightmare that never seems to end no matter how many alarms I wake up to, hoping that I’ve somehow shifted into a different timeline.

If it weren’t for Mallory, I might’ve thrown myself off my own bakery’s rooftop just to make it stop.

She’s been my anchor through all of it, listening, keeping me busy, reminding me to eat when I’m too sick to my stomach from stress to bother.