Her accusation stung, and he hated that he let any of her verbal animosity affect him. This was why Gabe had cut himself off from feeling anything. There was too much hard that could come in with the good. By not feeling anything, he protected himself from feeling the things that were too difficult. Unwanted.

The way his mother hadn’t wanted him. And still didn’t, apparently.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying unsuccessfully to loosen the knots that had formed there. “I’m going to shower and make breakfast. I don’t suppose we have much to do in the way of exchanging presents.”

“Gabe, answer me.”

He wanted to ignore her. To walk away, pack his bag and leave this house. The happiness that he’d found in Magnolia was like a distant memory at this point. All he could see was the mess his mother had made, and not just of this room. She’d made a mess of his life. The life he hadn’t realized he wanted but that now meant more to him than anything else.

But his sense of duty wouldn’t allow him to. Despite knowing he’d never make her happy, why was it so difficult to turn his back on the parent who’d rejected and demanded from him in equal measure?

He’d learned that happiness was a choice, and one his mom would never make.

“I haven’t seen an actual will,” he said, his tone flat. Barren like the way his heart felt. “But I’m sure it’s here somewhere. I can give you the number of her attorney in town. That’s my gift to you, Mom. I’m walking away having added value to the house and the business, and you’ll reap the benefits.” He started to turn but looked at her again with the cool detachment he’d give to a stranger. “As a bonus, I’ll be gone tomorrow. It’s all yours. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

ANGI RANG GABE’S doorbell later that night, holding tight to the plate of leftovers she carried and trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

An old sedan with New Mexico plates, dented on one side with the fender loose, sat in the driveway in front of Gabe’s truck.

She hadn’t talked to him since his mom made her appearance at the dance. The irritating man had left Angi on the dance floor as he’d stalked over to Poppy Carlyle, exchanged a few heated words and then taken off.

No return calls or texts, even though Angi knew how hard it must be to have his mom finally here.

He’d dreaded that moment, although they both knew it was coming.

Selfishly, Angi had hoped that Poppy would arrive after Christmas. That she’d have a chance to spend the holiday with Gabe and finally ask him to reconsider ending their pretend relationship, the connection all too real for her. She wanted a do-over on the past few weeks, one where she would have told Gabe how she felt about him.