Free The Giving Season by Rebecca Brock

Lyssa go, her narrowed eyes blazing for just an instant before she refocused her attention on Michael again. The whole drama happened so quickly, no one else noticed.
    But Jessy had.
    Libby had taken a small sliver of pecan pie, as well as a small sliver of pumpkin, and was beginning to spoon whipped cream on top when Ann reached over and snatched the plate from her hands. “Honestly, Libby—do you really think you need dessert?”
    Libby’s face turned crimson in humiliation, and Jessy had to grit her teeth, gripping her fork so tightly she thought she might bend it in half. She glanced across the table and saw that Michael was just as furious.
    “Ann—” Michael’s voice held a note of warning that Ann ignored. Jessy could see that Michael’s ex was either quite good at remaining blissfully ignorant, or she just didn’t care. She had a feeling it was the latter.
    “Michael, Libby’s already at least fifty pounds overweight. Do you want her to blow up like—” Ann’s eyes cut to Jessy—a subtle, yet meaningful glance—before she continued. “Like a whale?”
    “It’s okay, Dad,” Libby said quietly, pushing away from the table. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
    “Honey—”
    “Let her go,” Ann said. “It wouldn’t kill her to miss a few meals.”
    On the verge of tears, Libby walked out of the dining room. Michael helplessly watched her go, then pushed himself away from the table. “I’m going to go talk to her.”
    “Don’t,” Ann said coldly. “You shouldn’t go running every time she gets her feelings hurt. She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it.”
    Michael slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “What do you want, Ann? Are you trying to give her an eating disorder?”
    “I just want what’s best for her. She’s too fat.” Ann took a dainty bite of Libby’s pumpkin pie and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “And she’ll never have a boyfriend while she looks like that.” Ann looked to Jessy and smiled. “Right, Jessy? I mean, you must know.”
    “ Ann— ” Michael’s voice rose slightly, his eyes darkening with anger.
    “Anyway,” Ann continued, unfazed, “you haven’t even asked me why I’m here.” She mock pouted, acting coy, and Jessy’s dislike for the woman quadrupled.
    “Well, I’d assumed you were here to visit the kids, since you’ve only seen them three times this year.” Michael leaned back in his chair and leveled Ann with a steady, no-nonsense gaze. Jessy silently watched the exchange, feeling conspicuous and intrusive. But there was no way she’d leave yet.
    “I do want to see the kids,” Ann said with a slow, suggestive smile. “But I kinda missed you too, cowboy.”
    Cowboy?
    “But since you didn’t ask,” Ann continued, ignoring Jessy completely, “I came here to talk to you—about what we discussed earlier.”
    Michael cut his eyes toward Jessy, a less than subtle attempt to stop Ann from saying too much. Jessy leaned back in her seat, a sickly feeling uncurling in the pit of her stomach. As if she needed to feel more conspicuous.
    “Now’s not the time, Ann.”
    Ann abruptly focused her attention on Jessy again. “So you picked up my husband on a bus,” she said with forced mildness. “What happened—was the street corner too cold?”
    “Ex cuse me?” Jessy sat up straighter, feeling her face flush with anger. This was getting uglier by the second.
    Ann flashed her a brilliant and totally insincere smile. “It’s a joke. I’m joking. Mikey knows how I like to kid, don’t you, sweetie?”
    “Mmm-hmm—and by the way, I’m your ex -sweetie.” Michael cleared his throat, flashing Jessy an awkward apologetic gaze as he shifted in his seat. “And Jessy did not ‘pick me up.’ We met—” His gaze touched upon Jessy’s, the faintest of smiles on his lips. “We met during a dinner stop.”
    “What on Earth were you doing on a bus, Michael?” Ann laughed and tossed her hair, effectively drawing