“All right.” I button up my coat, and we all get out of the car.

Diego helps Blair unload her bag and does the same with ours.

“Say hello to your parents,” Blair says, hugging me. “See you later.”

I watch her cross the street and then turn back toward my house, filled with dread.

I look up at Diego. “Ready?”

He nods.

“Let’s do this.”

I hook my travel bag over my shoulder next to my regular bag and walk up the driveway to the porch. My gloved finger has barely touched the doorbell when the door swings open to reveal Mom, Dad, and Julia crowding the threshold. If Diego was a real boyfriend, and not one paid to endure my family, I’d be dying of shame at their ill-concealed eagerness. Mom and Julia look like wolfhounds with the scent of a bone fresh in their nostrils.

Mom is poring over Diego in awe. I don’t think she even notices how hot he is; she’s just overwhelmed he’s the first boyfriend I’ve brought home since high school. Julia, on the other hand, is staring at him slightly slack-jawed. Ah, ah. Bet she was expecting me to introduce them to someone boring and possibly balding, not Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. Take that, little sis.

“Hi, everyone,” I greet them, walking inside and taking notice of how the interior of the house is no better than the outside. Looks like a Christmas Tree Shop has opened in here. Every square inch is covered with a decoration, wreath, or Christmas light, and the tree they bought this year is so massive it almost touches the living room ceiling. “Mom, Dad, this is Diego,” I make the introductions. “Diego, this is my mom, dad, and my sister, Julia.”

They all do the “nice to meet you” handshake dance—or, at least, my parents do. Julia just stares at Diego, speechless, as he shakes her hand.

Something brushes against my legs, and I bend down to pick up the only being I’m actually excited to see over this break: Mr. Darcy, the family tomcat. Dad found him hiding under his truck when he was just a tabby kitten in my junior year of high school. Even if we only lived under the same roof for two years, I still consider him my cat. In fact, the moment he’s in my arms, he starts purring and bumping his head under my chin.

In the three seconds I’ve been distracted by Mr. Darcy, my mom has closed in on Diego and is bombarding him with questions.

“Mom,” I interrupt her, saving him. “Let us at least drop our bags before you start with the third degree.”

Then I make the mistake of using my cat-free hand to pull my beanie off.

Mom gasps. “Darling, your hair!”

Oh, I forgot they haven’t seen my new haircut yet.