“Fine, fine…” Nick sat next to me. “And this song is a stone-cold classic, Christmas or not.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yes, we had stockings when we were little. Mom and Dad too. We even hid one for Grams every year. We’d pretended Santa had gotten soot in his eye and gotten lost, so she had to hunt it down.”

“Might have to steal that one for myself!” I was not ashamed to borrow a great idea.

He nudged his knee into mine. “In fact, you’ll like this. Mom and Dad were both really big on cooking, so they’d each cook a special dish—sort of US vs. UK style—and we’d declare a Christmas winner. Although—and don’t tell them”—he laughed at the memory—“Elle and I would always choose opposite, as they took it way too seriously and we couldn’t risk ruining Christmas.” So he did have some Christmas joy in there after all? In fact, quite a lot by the big smile on his face. He dropped his head in his hands, shaking it as he laughed. “And oh wow—the singing… How could I have forgotten that? Grams used to get on the piano. There was no stopping her! I know you’ve only seen her the once, and y’know…” He tailed off, not wanting, not needing to say the obvious—that she wasn’t well. “But she used to be the life and soul.”

“So…” Time to ask the awkward. But it had to be done—maybe it could be the first step I needed into understanding whatever else they had going on. “How come things aren’t like that anymore?” How could he have gone from loving it, from having all these traditions like me, to not caring one way or the other?

“Like I said, things change.”

“But Dottie’s only around the corner?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s normal visiting hours only on Christmas Day. And you know we do our thing in January now. Have done for years.” He looked at me. “Bet your mom is going to love having you and your sister home.”

“Erm…” Back to Nick’s life please. “Yes. But I’m here for Christmas Day. So you, me, and Elle can do something big, right?” I mean, it was a nonnegotiable for me.

But Nick was chewing on his lip. Miles away.

Thinking.

“Nick—why don’t you tell everyone where you’re going? When you see Dottie?” There it was. I’d asked it.

He sighed. “Thought that was coming.” He rolled his neck back. “You really want to know?”

I nodded, letting the music fill the silence.

“Okay, well…” He looked up at me. “Promise you won’t tell anyone? Not Elle, not anyone?”

“Uh-huh.”