And when I go back to Conception Ridge in a week, it’ll be to a small one-bedroom apartment and no job, no reference letter from my last employer, and no prospects. That all sucks almost as much as the broken heart I’m secretly nursing.

The aching hole in my chest is very distracting.

I could be an absolute Scrooge this Christmas, but my family can’t know the full extent of my woes, so…I have to put on a happy face.

Fake it ’til you make it, the festive edition.

“I’m grateful we’re all together as a family this holiday.” That part is the honest truth.

“It’s a shame Jake couldn’t come with you.”

And there it is. The other thing I’ll have to deal with all week…dealing with questions and comments about my imaginary boyfriend, who I never should have invented.

“Let go of the girl,” Nana says, pushing Mom out of the way. “Let me squish her, too.”

“Hi Nan,” I say gratefully.

She gives me a bright-eyed, mischievous look. “How much trouble can we get into this week?”

The giggle I let out as we embrace is the first light feeling I’ve had since last night. “So much. Do you have your flask on you?”

“In my bag.”

My mother gasps. “Mother!”

We both laugh at her exasperated snap.

“What? The girl is twenty-one now, it’s all right.” Nana pulls out the flask in question, we have a quick sip, and I refocus my energy where it is needed—on the week ahead.

* * *

We have a list of errands to run before crawling up the mountain to the vacation house my parents have rented this year. Groceries are less expensive in the city than in the resort towns, and while my parents have done well for themselves and love bringing us all together at the holidays like this, they remember when money was tight, and spend sensibly.

Something I hear about three times while we’re shopping.

It’s dark by the time we arrive, the village and the ski hill glittering in the near distance like diamonds on black velvet, and the house is gorgeous, looming large in front of me like something straight out of a Christmas rom com movie.

If only real life worked like that.

But the hollow feelings are quickly replaced by the door swinging open, and then the whole family is squishing me. The loving nitpicking repeats, this time from my sister and brother, their spouses, and my dad.

“Let Sienna breathe,” Nana finally said. “Nathan, show your sister to her room.”