Page 41 of Judge Me Not

"I think that would be fabulous. Maybe then I could see my son more, too, hmm?" She raises her eyebrows at him then looks back at me. "He's always working so hard. I tell him all the time he needs to take a breather. I hope you're making him rest and do some things besides work."

"Mom," Colton reprimands.

"What? It's true."

Well, I am his beck-and-call stripper.

Why do I find it amusing all of a sudden?

I seriously am off my rocker tonight.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure he isn't working all the time."

Someone behind us shouts, "Caroline!"

His mom hugs me again and says in my ear, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Thanks. Me, too. And thank you for what you're doing...for the children and their families."

She only smiles. There's sadness in her eyes. It's an expression a mother who's lost a child or fears it on a daily basis wouldn't miss. I look away, blinking hard, and spin to leave.

Colton steers me away. "Sorry. My mom—"

"Is great."

He studies my face.

"She is."

"Yeah, she is," he agrees and grabs two glasses of champagne from the waiter. He hands me one.

I take a sip. "I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why does your Christmas tree in your house look like that one?" I point to the tree his mom is standing in front of. "Don't get me wrong, it's incredible. But I've never seen identical trees in two different places before."

His face turns red. "My mom designs the trees for every fundraiser. Every year, she has the company come put mine up so I don't forget and miss the Christmas season."

"Because you're working?"

"Yes and no. I'm not a big fan of the holiday."

I snort. "You and me both. What's your reason?"

"It's not very exciting when you're an adult and it's just you and your mom. Plus, it was my sister's favorite holiday. After she died, it was a reminder that she's no longer here."

I stay quiet.

"What's your reason?" he asks.

I choose my words carefully. For some reason, I still don't want to disclose Abby's cancer. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's a self-preservation thing so I don't become a sobbing mess again. So I take the easy way out. "It's not fun when you can't even give your child a Christmas tree."

I don't miss the shock in his expression.

I quickly ask, "You don't take a break very often?"

He recovers. "No."

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