Pretty sure he was trying to blow me off.

Now we haven’t spoken to each other in almost forty-eight hours and I’m telling myself not to panic. We’ll be fine. It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.

Clearly, I’m not fine. But whatever.

Deciding I’m not going to play any games whatsoever, I decide to head over to the tree farm on my day off. The air is crisp and clear, with barely a cloud in the sky.

As I pull into the parking section and see all of the yellow school buses parked on the other side of the lot, I realize the place is completely overrun with children. As in, I’m pretty sure local schools are going on field trips to Sullivan’s today.

Slowly I get out of the car, my gaze scanning the area. Why I think I’ll automatically spot Isaac, I don’t know, but I’m hopeful. And a little mad.

Not out and out angry, but I don’t like feeling ignored. Maybe it’s my own issue and he wasn’t ignoring me at all, but I don’t know. I’m used to that kind of treatment thanks to Joe and his passive aggressiveness over the years. I’m not about to put up with that kind of shit again, especially with a new relationship—or whatever you want to call it. We’re either completely honest with each other, or it’s over.

Ignoring the pang in my heart at the words it’s over, I march toward the entrance to the tree farm. The smell of fresh pine trees wafts toward me, accompanied by the sweet scent of chocolate. Christmas carols play over invisible speakers, and strings of lights twinkle throughout the area. The nonstop chatter of excited children grows louder and louder the closer I get, and I realize the entire place has such a festive air, I can’t help but smile.

I stop to admire a booth filled with lush pine wreaths. Some are plain, some are decorated. All are beautiful.

“Can I help you?” asks a woman who looks about Isaac’s age. She has a bored air about her, as if she’d rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m okay,” I tell her, as I finger one of the plain wreaths. “Just looking.”

She doesn’t say a word. Just turns her back to me and heads toward the other side of the booth, her phone clutched in her hands. Hmm, I should tell Candice about this employee. She doesn’t have the best customer service skills.

I leave the booth to go walk among the trees, my gaze constantly searching for Isaac. Of course when I want to find him, he’s nowhere in sight. There are children running everywhere. Big groups of them in matching T-shirts. Another group all wearing identically colored name badges attached to lanyards around their necks. All of them lead by a small cluster of adults who deserve a prize for wrangling a bunch of overstimulated children through a Christmas tree farm. Props to them for being so brave.