Another afternoon of staring into space earns me a late night at the office. I wish nothing more than to go home, change into a pair of sweatpants, and watch a silly romcom that will make me cry and despise my life even more. But I can’t leave before every minute of tomorrow’s shoot is mapped out. And I need to also check the ad sales reports on my holiday commercials and recheck the TV air schedules for the projects I’m following. So I trudge on, even if my eyes keep crossing over the endless Excel sheet lines and columns.

By 8:30 p.m. I’m so exhausted that, when my landline rings, I pick up without thinking.

“Nikki Moore.”

“Nikki!” My mother sounds both astounded and utterly ecstatic she’s finally cornered me. “I thought I’d get your voicemail. I’m not sure your secretary is passing along all my messages. What are you still doing at the office this late?”

“Working, obviously.”

“Work, work, work. You work too much, honey, there’s more to life than just work.”

I could come up with a million retorts. But if I argue back, the conversation will spiral into a sermon from my mother. A lecture starting with a list of all the important things I’m neglecting, and ending in a praise of the perfect work-life balance Julia has achieved. So, instead of defending my right to be focused on my career, I give her the easy response.

“Mom, you know how busy it gets at the holidays, worst time of the year. I really need to finish up here, so…”

“I’ll be quick, then.” Now that she has me, she’s not going to let me off the hook that easily. “I wanted to know when you’re coming home for the break. Julia is coming on the twenty-second.”

I peek at the calendar. The twenty-second is the Saturday before Christmas.

“Either then, or on the twenty-third,” I say. “I’m sharing a car with Blair, and we haven’t made a decision yet.”

“But you’ll definitely be here by Sunday night.”

“Yes.”

“And when are you leaving?”

“Not sure yet, Mom.” I try to stall before she traps me up there for a full week. “Depends on what my plans for New Year’s are.”

“Oh, are you going somewhere?”

I twist the cord around my fingers and say, “I could.” Which isn’t an outright lie. I could go on a trip; I’m just not planning to.

“All right, we can settle that once you get home.” I think she’s finally going to cut me loose when she adds, “So, you’ve heard about Julia and Paul. Isn’t it wonderful news?”

Peachy, I’d say, to keep in tone with the wedding color scheme.

“Yeah, I had lunch with them yesterday.”

“Oh, great. So, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind swapping rooms with your sister?”