“Olive and I can ride together, and you all can fit in Matt’s SUV,” Mom stated, which made no logical sense. Her car was as big as Matt’s. I was instantly skeptical of why she wanted to get me alone.

Everyone else piled in Matt’s car while mom and I got in hers. She bombarded me immediately. “So, tell me more about this Finn.” The problem was at this point she probably knew as much as I did.

“I—I mean he works with kids, loves all things Christmas, travels a lot.” That should be enough.

“But what is your relationship like? You tell us you’re seeing someone last minute and that he’s not coming but then he just pops up at dinner?” This was why I didn’t want to go along with Finn’s plans. They didn’t match me. Ever since I moved, I was the furthest thing from spontaneous. I loved my routines.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t know he was going to show up last night. But he is a good guy…” From what I can tell so far. “…and our relationship is good.” I didn’t offer up any other details for fear of her seeing right through me.

“He seems very sweet, and he works with kids.” Her brows wiggled suggestively, Mom was always going on about grandkids, and I could almost see the cogs in her brain turning. “I think he’s good for you. You need to get out of this…funk.” Funk was a sweeter way to say downward spiral, and I appreciated the sugarcoated version from her.

“Yeah, I mean he’s fun.”

Mom stopped at a redlight and looked over at me. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

She tapped her finger on the steering wheel. “Don’t try to downplay what this is. He’s the first guy you’ve brought home since—” She stopped abruptly. “Just don’t waste a perfectly good relationship because of your past.”

We must have put on a good show for Mom to think we were that serious. Maybe Finn’s acting skills paid off.

When we got to the resort, I texted Finn our location. He told me which bus to take and dropped me a pin where his section was. The resort was decked out in Christmas trees, colorful string lights, and wreaths. There was holiday music playing around us with lyrics of ‘snow’ and ‘cheer.’ It was annoying but expected in a ski resort in Colorado twelve days before Christmas. Even when I was a kid, I remembered the town going all out for the holidays. Everyone would put giant, tacky decorations in their yard and the town lit up like a clear night sky. It was basically Whoville over here—minus the weird lips, bingle balls, and whofoo fluff.