“That can’t be easy.”
“It’s not, but over the years I’ve missed plenty of holidays, and I’ve got no one to blame but myself.” He pressed the button on the coffee brewer. “You want a cup? It’s decaf.”
“Sure, thanks. And, Keegan...?”
“What?”
“You must be divorced from the boy’s mother, right?”
“That’s a logical assumption.”
“Did she not invite you to spend Christmases with your son? Did she keep him from coming to see you?”
He frowned, and she hoped she hadn’t crossed a boundary of privacy. But he seemed like he was having a tough time with missing his son.
“My ex-wife isn’t an unreasonable person,” he said. “I’m just not Daddy-of-the-year material. Let’s leave it at that.”
Wow. Keegan’s conversation with his son had been short and almost awkward. Yet his voice had been comforting, his tone almost sweet. If she had to guess—and since he wasn’t going to say anything else, what other choice did she have—she concluded that he had genuine feelings for his son.
“Okay,” she said. “Conversation closed. You take the bed. I’ll sleep fine on the sofa.”
“Never mind.” He took a long sip of coffee and brought a mug to her. “I won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.”
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