That’s when Mom arrives. She stares at us, asking, “What are you all doing up here?”

Why no one ever knocks in this house…?

Dad swiftly ushers her inside and closes the door behind her. “Shhh, Dory. You want to get us caught?”

Mom scowls at him. “Your daughter worked so hard to cook you dinner, and if she were to find you all eating pizza behind her back she’d be crushed.”

Dad keeps eating, unperturbed. “And that’s why I ate my dinner in silence like a good father would. But if my other daughter decides to sneak pizza into the house later, it’s only fair I accept all of my offsprings’ culinary offerings.”

“Two dinners are too much at your age,” my mom insists.

“Oh, come on, Dory dear. Only a slice.” He turns the open box toward her tantalizingly. “Get one yourself and relax; it’s Christmas.”

Mom stares at the pizza for a while, indecision clearly written on her features. She’s just reaching for the slice when the door opens again and Julia enters, saying, “Nik, do you know where everyone went?”

We all freeze, caught in the act.

Julia takes in the scene, and her jaw drops just before her eyes go all watery. “If you didn’t like dinner, you could’ve said so,” she wails dramatically. Then her gaze narrows on Mom, who’s standing immobile, arm still stretched forward, reaching for the box. “I could’ve expected it from them.” Julia points at me and my dad. “But I hoped for better from you.” Then she turns toward Paul, points an accusing finger at him, and hisses, “And you.”

With that, she turns on her heel and flees the room. Mom retracts her arm and runs after her. “Julia, baby… Wait.”

Paul, on the other hand, shrugs and serenely finishes his slice. “She’ll get over it,” he reassures us, before going after his fiancée.

Dad, equally nonplussed, says, “Well, since we’ve been busted, I can go finish this downstairs.” And he, too, leaves, bringing the pizza box with him.

“So,” Blair says, when it’s only the three of us left in the room—five, counting pets. “I guess it’s been a regular day in the Moore family and no one suspects anything.”

“Pretty much,” I confirm. “What about you? How were your parents?”

We complain about our respective families for another hour or so, before Blair lets out a very loud yawn. “Sorry, guys. I’m beat. Time to go home.”

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” I say.

She and Diego say goodnight while I check the hallway to make sure my sister isn’t around. I know she’ll make me pay for the pizza stunt, and I’m not looking forward to the moment she’ll decide to take her revenge. Luckily, she seems to have already retired to bed, and Blair and I don’t meet anyone on our way to the front door.

“How much do I owe you for the pizzas?” I ask, unhooking my bag from the entrance rack.

“Oh, please. Pizza’s on me tonight.”