Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

I let her voice wash over me as the sorrow becomes a thing of the past. The closer she gets to giving birth, the more the family discord bothers her. I want to help, but it feels like her parents are in Preston’s back pocket. Clearing away the table, I bring out the cake with the fancy opening flower candle that spins.

She claps her hands. “I love it.”

We sing a round of happy birthday, and she blows them out. The knock on the door makes me frown.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” Warren asks.

“No.”

“I’ll get it. Enjoy your cake.”

Peering out the door, I frown at the man dressed in a suit before I answer it.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m looking for Faye Ferguson.” I see the manilla envelop in his hand.

“One moment please.” I return to the kitchen

“Who was it?”

“Someone with a delivery you need to sign for.”

“Oh?”

Warren frowns as I help her up and follow her back to the front door. She signs for the envelope, and he walks away. Opening it, she lets out a wail.

“He can’t do this.” Her eyes tear up as she sways.

I grab her to keep her on her feet as Warren kneels to pick up the discarded papers. “Preston is taking her to court for full custody.”

Of course the son of a bitch waited to have it delivered on her birthday.

Chapter Four

Faye

“I assume you got my paperwork?”

I exhale. He was probably waiting by the phone for the fallout he knew he caused. Sitting on the side of my bed, I rest my head against the headboard. James sits beside me, holding my hand as I fight to keep my voice neutral. He gets off on reactions. The best thing I can do for negotiations is to not give him a response.

“Why are you doing this, Preston? I was willing to work out a fair, partial custody agreement. We could split things between us equally.”

“Why? So, you and the dog doctor can raise my daughter? No.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“Doesn’t it? You’ve changed since you got together.”

I grip the phone harder. Lashing out will only make this worse. “Do you really want to go to court?”

“No. Which is why I’m giving you a choice.”

“What?” My stomach aches. I know where he’s going.

“End things with the pretty boy Brit, and this can all go away.”

“What the hell, Preston?”