A weak smile flitted over her lips. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

“I’d still like to hear it from you,” he said quietly.

After a long moment, she nodded, and the whole story spilled out. It was exactly like Claire had said, only much, much worse coming from his mom’s lips.

She told him about her increased visits to the casino, how overjoyed she’d felt when she’d won and how desperate she was when she started losing. She told him about the withdrawals she’d made from her savings account, the mutual funds she’d sold, the second mortgage she’d secured. She told him about missing work, lying to her boss, using up all her personal days and then eventually not showing up altogether.

When she got to the part about how she’d finally had to confide in Chris because the bank had sent her a foreclosure notice, Dylan’s chest tightened with both sympathy and anger.

“You should have told me,” he muttered.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the disappointed look on your face, the one you’re wearing now. You’ve always been my biggest supporter, and you gave me so much encouragement when I decided to go back to work after your father died.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sam would be horrified if he knew what I’d done.”

Dylan’s throat started to feel tight. “No, he wouldn’t. Dad would have recognized that you had a problem, and he would have stood by you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I really believe that,” he said firmly.

Shanna’s breathing was shallow, but when she spoke again, her voice sounded steadier. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you the truth.”

“Yes, but I understand why you didn’t. You were scared. And between me and Chris, he’s definitely the one in a financial position to help.” Dylan’s tone became stern. “With that said, I need you to tell me exactly how serious this is financially, so I know how much money to start sending you every month.”

Her gaze flew to his. “What? No, Dylan. You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

“Tough shit.”

She raised her eyebrows and shot him that disapproving Mom look he’d been on the receiving end of many times growing up.

“Tough cookies,” he amended guiltily. “I’m serious, though. I’m involved in this now, and I’m doing my part whether you like it or not.”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “All right.”

“Good. Now before we get into all the unpleasant money stuff…” He reached for the present he’d left on the weathered pine coffee table and held it out. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Her radiant smile got him all choked up again, and when he saw her awed expression after she removed the glass angel from its box, he was feeling teary-eyed himself.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Her gaze drifted to the glass cabinet across the room, which held all the other angels she’d been collecting since before Dylan was even born. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said through the lump in his throat.

They both fell silent, until Shanna finally cleared her throat. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? You can open some presents, and then…then we can discuss everything else that needs to be discussed.”

“Sounds good. I’ll keep you company in the kitchen.”

They had only taken two steps toward the doorway when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and saw Claire’s number, then turned to his mom. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll join you in a sec.”

He waited until Shanna was out of earshot before answering with a soft, “Hey, honey, how did it go with Chris?”

“It didn’t,” was the curt response.

“What do you mean, it didn’t?”

“I mean, he didn’t show up.” Claire sounded so incensed her voice was trembling.

Battling a rush of disbelief, Dylan lowered his voice. “Are you f**king serious?”

“Yep, he texted five minutes after I got to the apartment, saying he received a last-minute invitation to have lunch with Lowenstein at some cigar bar and he simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. But he was considerate enough to speak to me via Bluetooth while he drove there.”

Disgust and amazement mingled in Dylan’s blood. “So what did he say?”

“The same thing he told you the day at the wedding, how he and I weren’t a good match, we were making a mistake, yada yada.”

“And what did you say?”

“I agreed with him and told him I’d been having the same doubts.”

“Okay, that sounds cordial enough. Was that it?”

Her long pause was all the answer he needed.

“Aw, f**k, tell me what happened, Claire.”

A sigh rippled over the line. “Well, we talked about the apartment for a few minutes. He said he’d like to keep living there. I said fine, I didn’t care.”

“And?”

“He asked how I spent my time off and how my holidays were. I said I was in San Diego with you and that the holidays were great.”

“And?”

“And then I told him I knew that he’d brought another woman on what was supposed to be our honeymoon.”

Dylan held his breath. “And?”