But this year I can enjoy all her maternal love, with no discussions. I dread the moment I’ll have to tell her Diego and I broke up.

The thought hits me in the stomach like a punch with more force than I could’ve ever expected. To stage a fake breakup with my fake boyfriend has always been the plan, but after last night… What are we going to do? Are we still going to break up at the end of the week? Can you really break up if you’ve never even been officially together? Are we together?

The questions that have been swirling inside my head since I woke up, keep on spinning, chasing one another around my poor brain. I fend them off with a bite of warm roll and a sip of steamy coffee. Today’s my first chance at a merry Christmas, and I’m not going to waste it roasting in self-doubt all day. Que será, será…

Sixteen

Santa Baby

On a whim of daughterly love, I offer to help Mom in the kitchen after breakfast, sending her over the moon with joy and a bit of shock. My standard MO for Christmases past had been to hide in my room until all the guests had arrived and get as little involved in the preparations—ahem, and celebrations—as I could.

Although my offer of help is welcomed with warmth, poor kitchen skills relegate me to vegetable-peeling duty. But I don’t mind. The task is easy and repetitive; it has a steadiness to it that’s keeping me Zen. I’m so at peace with the universe today. I even manage not to roll my eyes whenever Julia takes Mom’s perfect recipes and mangles them with her new vegan creed. Thankfully, the special menu will apply only to her today—and to any volunteers. I doubt there’ll be any. Maybe Paul will taste something out of sheer love—or duty.

I wait for the usual pang of the heart, or the tightening in my chest, that I get whenever I think about how Paul is in love with my sister. But it doesn’t come. Zero. Nada. No pain. No wistfulness. Was one night with Diego really enough to make me forget Paul? Okay, it wasn’t really just one night. We’ve been living together for two weeks, learning everything about each other…

A sudden rush of heat spreads over my cheeks. Oh gosh, the guy knows so much about me. Too much. Like my non-existent romantic track record. I can’t date someone who knows all my secrets. I need a consultation ASAP.

“Mom.” I throw the last peeled carrot into the bowl. “The vegetables are ready; you need something else? I wanted to drop by Blair’s house and wish her Merry Christmas.”

“No, sweetheart, you go right ahead. And please wish Mr. and Mrs. Walker happy holidays from us.”

“Will do.”

I wash my hands, put on my jacket and boots, and march across the street.

***

I barge into Blair’s room. “We need to talk.”