“Ha, ha, ha…” I chuckle along with her. “Crazy, right?”

“But Mom made me see how much you two love each other.”

The knife in my heart twists, and the wound I’ve been trying so hard to seal starts bleeding again.

“I hope he gets that job in New York,” Julia continues. “And we should all go out to dinner once we’re back in the city.”

“That would be wonderful.”

I don’t have the strength to tell her Diego and I are over, finished, caput. Once the scar is a little more healed, I’ll come up with a credible breakup story. I can’t deal with the unavoidable family’s sympathy that would follow such a revelation; not in person, at least. Better to break the news to my parents over the phone once I’m safely back in Manhattan. And I can go out with Julia in the city, and lie to her for the last time, as soon as I’m a little better. But not today, not this week, not when the memory of Diego’s lips on my skin is still so fresh…

“Sisterly hug?” Julia gets up, stretching her arms wide and bringing me out of my mental reverie.

I lift my butt from the chair and pull her into a tight hug. “Love you,” I whisper.

“I love you, too,” she replies, choked.

We hang on to each other for the longest time, closer than we’ve been in years. If nothing else, something good came out of this dreadful holiday break.

***

After my heart-to-heart with Julia, the rest of my stay at home passes rather uneventfully. I try my best not to think about Diego, even if every time I catch sight of the snowman adorning our backyard, it’s like a million arrows puncture my chest at once.

Diego really picked the perfect spot; the damn thing is not going to melt, ever. It’ll probably still be there come spring. More than once, I’m tempted to march outside and kick the wretched thing back to powder. But then I’d have to explain to my family why I’ve suddenly turned into a snowman-killing maniac. So I just cope by avoiding the windows that overlook the backyard.

During the day, I keep myself busy with work. But it’s the nights that are the hardest. There’s no escape in the dark and silent witching hours, when all the demons tormenting my heart are let loose. This room is haunted by the ghosts of our kisses and touches and… I shouldn’t be thinking about that!

I hope that once I get back to my apartment, I can finally shake off every last, painful memory of Diego. We never shared a room in New York, and I’m so grateful for that now.

It’s that expectation alone that allows me, two days later, to leave my parents’ house filled with a decent amount of self-imposed optimism. After loading the trunk of the rental car with my luggage, I honk twice to signal Blair it’s time to go. I’ve already hugged my family goodbye, and I’m ready to get back to New York and turn the page on the worst December to date. The new year will help with that. I’ll write a list of resolutions and try to stick to them for once. First item on the list: avoid memories of a certain dark-haired, green-eyed person at all costs.