Yuletide Redemption. Jill Kemerer

She had to say yes. She knew it. How could she deny Sam this? But how could she agree?

      He didn’t know what he was asking.

      “I want to help you, Sam, but there’s a reason I don’t go to the coffee shop and read anymore, and it has nothing to do with Parker. People don’t just stare. They ask questions, and sometimes it hurts.”

      If she took him with her, he’d see how other people viewed her. He’d said she was beautiful—of all the wonderful things he could say!—but he’d see for himself no one else thought she was pretty.

      “Maybe you’re wrong. They don’t know you, but they know me. If you take me with you, the people we run into might not notice you because it’s been so long since I’ve been out.”

      She hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah, and then a mom will stroll by with her young kids and one will say, ‘Mommy, why does she have all those marks on her face?’ It’s embarrassing, Sam.”

      His lips lifted in a grin. “I can handle that if you can handle, ‘Look, Marge, isn’t that the Sheffield boy? What a shame it’s been this long and he’s still not walking.’”

      She giggled. She didn’t mean to, but it came out. “Do people actually say that?”