“Yeah, I’m almost there, too. Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, and please send regular texts to let me know you’re alive.”

I roll my eyes but smile. “I will.”

***

I haven’t been seated at my desk five minutes before my cell phone goes off again. It’s Julia. Ugh, majorly not in the mood for another wedding planning rant. I let the call go unanswered. Three seconds later, my internal line rings, signaling Melanie is calling me.

“Yeah?” I say.

“I have your sister on line two.”

I could tell Melanie to make an excuse for me—that I’m in a meeting, or not at the office—but I know Julia. If she’s decided we have to talk now, she’ll just pester me until I surrender and answer. Compared to my sister, my mom is a restrained serial caller.

I sigh. “All right, put the call through.” Melanie hangs up. I wait for the external line’s button to flash and push it. “Hello?”

“Mom says I can’t have your room.”

“Good morning to you, too,” I reply. “And, yes, Mom would be correct.”

“But Nikki, I’m bringing my fiancé home for the holidays. We can’t stay in my room. Yours is bigger.”

“Our rooms are exactly the same.”

“Okay, but I can’t make Paul sleep in my castle princess bed.”

“I’m sorry about that, but when given the chance to choose a bed, you should’ve picked something more practical.”

“I was eight.”

“And I was ten. Didn’t stop me from ordering a perfectly sensible queen bed.”

Truth is, my only guiding principle at the time was to do the exact opposite of what Julia did. So, when she opted for a fairy tale bunk bed—pink, complete with turrets, crenellations, and tulle drapes—I went for the most serious, adult-looking bed I found at the shop.

“But Paul won’t fit…”

“Then ask Mom to get rid of the princess bed and buy a replacement.”

“But I love that bed.”

“Well, sorry… You’ll have to pick: either Paul sleeps in the princess bed, or the bed goes.”

I take a little smudge of satisfaction in knowing Julia is not going to have exactly everything she wants.

“But why can’t you switch?”

“Because my boyfriend won’t fit in the princess bed any better.”

“Oh, so you really have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Since when? I thought Mom misunderstood.”

Sure, because it would be so impossible for me to have a boyfriend. No matter that it sort of is impossible. The fact that Julia would just assume… Grrrrrrr. I bite the receiver before I continue.

“A few months.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is this guy?”

“Jules, I’m just more private with my life than you, and right now I’m at the office, working. I don’t have time to gossip.”