A Naughty Little Christmas

by Lili Valente

  It’s because he is the spitting image of his father. He has his father’s eyes and his father’s smile and his father’s mouth, with that elegant calligraphy swoop of an upper lip I have never seen on another human being. Not even Dean’s mother. Dean must have gotten his lips from his dad, just like Miller got his from Dean.

  He is Dean’s child, there is no doubt in my mind. He’s a perfect mixture of Tillie and Dean, a beautiful miracle that nevertheless breaks my heart.

  For many reasons—so many, many reasons—but I can’t think of them now, or I’m never going to make it out of these woods without embarrassing myself. I’ve already fallen through a deck. I refuse to have a breakdown in front of Dean and the people who have come to rescue us, even if one of them is his ex-girlfriend.

  Or maybe his ex-wife…

  He could have been married for all I know. They might still be married and just be separated for whatever reason, but I don’t think so. I know Dean too well. No matter how much he’s changed, he isn’t the type of man who would have done the things we did last night if he were in a serious relationship with someone else.

  But the fact remains that he was with Tillie at some point—four or five years ago if my read on Miller’s age is correct—and that changes everything. Because they have a child together, an innocent life, a kid whose happy smile cuts through me like a knife.

  Mercifully, Tillie says goodbye to Miller and ends the video call, giving me a few seconds to pull myself together before Dean and Steve arrive. The bustle of pulling on borrowed coats and mittens and locking up the station gives me further opportunity to refocus my thoughts and steel my emotions, but it’s still a long walk to the road.

  A very long walk, during which I have a long time to think about who I am, who I want to be, and how far I’m willing to compromise my morals for a second chance at love.

  Chapter 15

  Macy

  The ride back to town is nearly as long as the hike, but finally, we’re back in Lover’s Leap, and I’m tumbling out of the truck, promising to meet Dean at the Fish and Bicycle at five for dinner, as soon as I do some shopping and get my affairs in order.

  Fighting to hold my shit together for a few more minutes, I wave to Dean, Tillie, and Steve, and hurry down the street toward the drug store. I’m praying I’ll be able to purchase a prepaid cell phone along with toiletries and enough clean underwear to get me through until my suitcase is unearthed from the snow at the leisure of the highway department.

  I have to call Lynn and let her know I’m okay—just in case she tried to call last night and is getting worried—before making an even more important phone call. Then I’ll know if Dean and I have a future, or if I’m doomed to head back to Los Angeles alone and miserable and regretting I ever set foot in Lover’s Leap again after all these years.

  I hurry into the store, grateful for the blast of heat on my face as I grab a basket to load with the bare necessities. I’m sure I’ll take warm cheeks for granted someday soon, but for now, it’s a luxury I’m grateful for.

  Though having my face half-frozen during our hike back to Steve’s truck probably helped keep my emotional turmoil under wraps. At least, I think I kept it under wraps.

  Dean definitely suspects something’s up—he gave me meaningful side-eye when I insisted on going shopping alone instead of heading to his house, where he has spare toothbrushes and shampoo aplenty—but I’m sure he has no idea that I’ve discovered the truth about his relationship with Tillie. If he did, he wouldn’t have let me walk away with something as flimsy as a promise to meet up for dinner in a few hours. He truly wants a second chance, I believe that, feel the truth of it with every fiber of my being.

  Dean meant all the things he said last night. He never moved on, and he wants us to end up back together, even if that means him living in L.A. part-time.

  The question now is…can I let that happen? Knowing what I know and suspecting what I suspect?

  The thought of living without Dean makes me physically ill, but the thought of tearing apart a family that can still be saved makes me even sicker. I can’t be that woman, not when I know firsthand how hard it is to grow up in a home with a single parent who’s struggling to get by. Sure, Tillie clearly has her shit together, but raising a child alone is still hard, no matter how secure your job or strong your work ethic.

  Thankfully, before I can work myself into any more of a moral crisis, I find a pay-as-you-go phone with internet capability on an end cap, snatch it up in my freshly thawed hand, and rush to check out. The woman who rings me up and bundles my purchases into a canvas bag I found near the school supply section looks vaguely familiar, but there’s no room in my brain for sorting out who she might be or how we might have connected in the past.

  I’m too worried about the future to reach that far back in history.

  Ducking out of the drug store, I spot a Smoothie Hut on the corner that’s appropriately abandoned—who wants to drink something frozen when it’s twenty degrees outside?—and pop in. After ordering a kale-carrot concoction that seems like a responsible choice after all the junk food last night, I use their restroom to tidy up and brush my teeth before snagging my drink and the Wi-Fi password from the teenager behind the counter and tucking into a booth.

  A quick check of my email reveals that Dean’s instincts were right, and that all flights out of Denver have been canceled until Monday, which means I’ll have to extend my stay at the hotel—assuming they have a vacancy and are in the mood to deal with me after I failed to check in yesterday.

  Or I’ll have to make other, more complicated arrangements if I decide it’s best for me to leave town.

  But I can’t think about that yet, not until I know for sure…

  Lynn doesn’t pick up, so I leave a quick message explaining what happened, promising her that I’m fine, and assuring her I’ll let her know the details on my flight home as soon as I have them. Afterward, I place a quick call to my office manager in L.A., letting her know that all my appointments for Monday need to be rescheduled.

  Tanya is, as usual, a consummate professional and promises to get everything taken care of and soothe Geneva Tibbots’s frazzled nerves with a complimentary massage booked with her second favorite therapist.

  By the time I hang up with Tanya, I’m still the Smoothie Hut’s lone customer, but I feel too self-conscious to make this last call where anyone else might overhear. Bundling my borrowed coat tighter around me, I head out into the cold, flinching against the frigid wind whipping in faster from the north.

  But Olivia’s phone rings until I’m sent to voicemail.

  For a moment, I consider hanging up before the beep, but then realize Liv will have no reason to call me back—she won’t recognize this number—and that a message has to happen.

  Sucking in a breath, I do my best to keep the insanity brief, “Hi Liv, it’s me. Macy. I’m okay, but last night was pretty crazy. My car went off the road, and Dean ended up rescuing me right before a tree fell on it and crushed it flat. And anyway, like I said, I’m fine—he’s fine, too—but we were snowed in together overnight at the ranger’s station, and one thing led to another. And well…I’m in love with him again, Liv. I honestly don’t think I ever stopped being in love with him. And I was so happy because I could tell he felt the same way. But then Matilda Williams showed up this morning to help rescue us, and I saw her son on a video call and I… Well, I just…”

  I trail off with a soft groan, wishing I could go back and redo this message, but it’s too late now.

  I push on. “Anyway, it’s pretty clear what the Tillie drama is all about, Liv. If her son isn’t Dean’s, I’ll eat my own foot. My hand and my foot. He looks exactly like Dean did as a kid. He has the same eyes, the same mouth, the same almost everything.”

  I exhale sharply. “And I know Dean and Tillie aren’t involved anymore, but I can tell he still cares about her and that she’s flat-out crazy about him. And if there’s even a chance that they might be
able to get back together and make things work, how can I justify taking Dean away from his child?” I press the back of one mittened hand to my lips, swallowing the sob rising in my throat. “I mean, I can’t, right? I just can’t. So I should go, shouldn’t I? Just leave town, pretend last night never happened, and don’t ever look back.”

  Hunching deeper into my coat, I strain for a sound on the other end of the line, but it’s dead quiet, making me wonder if Liv’s voicemail has cut me off mid-ramble or if it’s still recording.

  On the off chance, she has enough space in her inbox for a message this long, I say, “Call me back, okay? Hope you’re weathering the storm and staying safe.”

  I end the call, shove my new phone into my pocket, and head toward the Fish and Bicycle, knowing Matty will be able to give me the number of the cab company that doesn’t suck. I used to have the digits memorized, back when I was a kid and responsible for talking Dad into a taxi after he’d had too many to get us home safely from the pizza joint.

  Not a fun job. But as a kid, it had been worth it to me, worth wrangling my drunk dad in exchange for a night at Pepperoni Parlor eating gooey, cheesy pizza and playing Zombie Smackdown until Lynn and I ran out of quarters. It’s a memory that proves not every night with my dad ended in misery. But there were enough that did that I can’t, in good conscience, do something that would keep another child from a life with both of his parents.

  Yes, Tillie is clearly a much kinder and more loving person than my father ever was—before my mom died or after. She’s also seemingly healthy, happy, and not a raging alcoholic. But even highly functional single parents are in for a harder time of it than if they had a partner in the trenches beside them. Single parents never get a break, never have the luxury of a sick day, and have to find a way to make one salary stretch far enough to support two or more people.

  I’m sure Dean contributes financially and spends time with Miller—he and Tillie clearly have a close relationship, and I can’t see that being possible if he were withholding child support or ignoring his son. What’s more, I can’t imagine Dean being anything but a wonderful father, the kind of man any kid would be lucky to call his dad.

  But if that’s so, why haven’t he and Tillie found a way to make things work? They’re such good friends, can romantic love really be so far beyond the realm of possibility for them?

  There are so many questions swirling through my head and no firm answers. All I know for certain is that I’m still in love with Dean Roberts and I will probably always be in love with him.

  Even if I have no choice but to tell him goodbye.

  Chapter 16

  From the texts of Dean Roberts and

  Tillie Williams

  Tillie: Hey, Dean, I’ve been thinking since I got home, and I have a bad feeling. I think I made a mistake.

  Dean: What kind of mistake? And how is Miller?

  He didn’t give the babysitter hell again, did he?

  Tillie: No, he was very good. But Jennifer let him eat an entire pint of ice cream and play on my tablet for an hour and a half, so that might have had something to do with it.

  Dean: Well, a pint of ice cream and screen time never killed anyone.

  Tillie: My mother, the child behavioral psychologist, would beg to differ, but what she doesn’t know won’t come back to haunt me.

  Dean: My lips are sealed. Your mother hates me enough already, lol. I’m not about to do anything else to get on her bad side.

  Tillie: Ugh. I’m sorry. She doesn’t hate you; she hates me for making what she considers irresponsible choices. But at least we have your mother, who is wonderful in all ways, and realizes Miller is going to be fine, even if he came into being via unconventional channels.

  Dean: He’s going to be better than fine. He’s got so many people who adore him, plus the hardest loving mama I know.

  Tillie: That’s actually the reason I’m texting. I got caught up in a moment of Mama Love today at the ranger station and did something without thinking. As soon as I did this thing, I realized it was a bad call. But I thought it was going to be okay. Macy didn’t seem weirded out at the time, so I put it out of my head. But I just saw her walking down the street outside the Smoothie Hut, and she looked really upset, Dean. Like…really upset. And now I’m afraid I’ve gone and ruined things for you, and I’ll hate myself if I did that. Truly. I know you never got over her.

  Dean: Hold on, and back up a little. What did you say to Macy?

  Tillie: I didn’t say anything. I was on FaceTime with Miller, showing him Tom and Meg so he would know they were safe and coming home to stay with us while the ranger station is closed. Miller was being silly, and Macy sat down to say hi. And without thinking I… Well, I let her see the phone.

  Dean: Shit.

  Tillie: I know! I’m sorry! Like I said, I wasn’t thinking. And Macy didn’t seem upset at the time, but everyone always says that he looks just like you when you were a kid, and Macy knows you so well…

  Dean: Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I should have told Macy about Miller. We talked a lot last night. I should have made it a point to tell her about that part of my life, too.

  Tillie: I can understand why you didn’t. It’s kind of a strange situation, and not really something you want to tell your long-lost love the first night back together. I’m sorry I’m contributing to making your second chance harder than it has to be.

  Dean: Stop apologizing. I’m serious. I don’t regret my choice to help you have Miller for a single second.

  Tillie: But if I hadn’t had been born a weirdo with almost no viable eggs, this wouldn’t have happened. I could have waited until I found Mr. Right to have a child, and you could have waited to make a baby with someone you love.

  Dean: I love you, Tillie. You’re one of my best friends, and you need to stop this. Blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault is ridiculous.

  Tillie: Right. You’re right. I did nothing wrong, and you did nothing wrong. We just have to make sure Macy realizes that so you guys can get back on track to living happily ever after.

  Dean: Exactly. And you might have misread the situation. She could have been upset about something else. Maybe the rental car company was being a pain in the ass or something. I’m sure they aren’t thrilled to learn that one of their cars is totaled and buried under a few tons of snow in the middle of nowhere.

  Tillie: True. There is a chance that everything’s okay, I guess.

  Dean: But you don’t think so.

  Tillie: No, I don’t. We women have a sixth sense about things like this, Dean. We know when other women are upset because they just found out the man they love has a secret baby with another woman.

  Dean: But Miller isn’t a secret.

  Tillie: Not around here, but Macy hasn’t lived in Lover’s Leap for a long time. Chances are she has no idea what’s been going on. People who move to big cities don’t tend to keep their fingers on the pulse of small-town gossip.

  Dean: All right. I’ll go look for her.

  Tillie: Last time I saw her she was walking west on Evergreen. I’ll do another drive-by of the area before I head home, then report back. I had to swing into the store to get more mac and cheese on my way. Apparently, Jennifer left Miller alone for five minutes to use the restroom, and he took advantage of the opportunity to empty all five packages of mac and cheese in the pantry onto the kitchen floor. He said he was planning to make a giant picture using the noodles.

  Dean: Ack. Probably my mom’s fault. They were making macaroni pictures last time we were over at her house for dinner.

  Tillie: LOL. It’s okay. At least his intention was to create, not destroy, even if things did get messy. Speaking of messy, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with Macy. I’m happy to explain that I was the one who begged for your swimmers and that we’ve only ever been friends.

  Dean: Of course we’ve only ever been friends.

  You don’t seriously think that she thinks that we…


  Tillie: Yes, Dean. I’m pretty sure that’s what she thinks. What conclusion would you draw if you were in her shoes? That a man agreed to be a sperm donor to a seemingly healthy woman desperate to get pregnant when she was only twenty years old? Or that Miller was made the old-fashioned way?

  Dean: I’m so stupid.

  Tillie: No, you’re not. You’re just not the best at getting inside a woman’s head sometimes. But that’s why you have friends like me, right?

  Dean: Exactly why. I’ll head out now. See if I can track Macy down and explain myself before this gets any worse. Thank you for the heads up, Tillie.

  Tillie: You’re welcome. And I’m rooting for you, Dean. Both of you. I haven’t seen you smile the way you did today in a long time. You deserve that happiness. And so does Macy. She was always good to me when we were kids, even when I was the class runt none of the cool kids wanted at their lunch table. She’s got a good heart. Once you explain why we made the decisions we did, she’ll understand.