With every passing minute I fall into a deeper depression over how wrong this feels. They’re doing their best to make me feel at home, but it’s having the opposite effect. I feel terrible about it. Expensive presents aren’t going to change how I feel. In fact, it’s the opposite of how I’d spent the holidays. Dad and I would exchange one silly gift—last year he gave me this coin purse with a woman dressed up with a tiara that said, Dress for the Job You Want, while I got him a T-shirt that read, Totally Rad in big neon letters since he likes random weird sayings from the dark ages (aka the 1980s). The gifts weren’t the point. It was spending time together. Like a real family.

That memory plunges me even further into my funk.

Sarah bolts up from the floor, which is littered with torn paper and boxes. “Can I FaceTime Stacey to show her what I got?”

Paula laughs. “Yes.” Sarah takes an armful of her presents and goes into the kitchen. Paula’s attention turns to me. “Feeling better?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” I can tell that my face isn’t as hot anymore, but that doesn’t change that I want to simply hide under the covers for the rest of today. “Would it be okay if I went upstairs?”

Paula hesitates for a moment before telling me it’s okay.

“Thanks.” I start to gather up all my gifts. “And thanks for everything. It’s really nice of you all.”

I go upstairs and start putting my gifts into piles, so I can write thank-you notes. When I realize I left my glass of water downstairs, I head back out, but pause as I hear Craig and Paula’s conversation drift upstairs. Even though their voices are hushed, I can hear what they’re saying.

“She needs more time. This is all new to her, and today has to be really hard,” Craig says.

My stomach churns, as it’s fairly obvious who they’re talking about.

“What about the past fifteen Christmases for me?” Paula says. “Those were painful. Now she’s here and it’s obvious she wants to be anywhere else. Is it too much to ask that I get to spend Christmas with my daughter?”

“I know, but, Paula, you need to stop getting mad at her—”

“I’m not mad!” Her voice rises.

“Yes, you are. This is a lot for her. I don’t think you realize how you’re punishing Ally for what her father did. You’re still so angry about the past and what you lost that you are pushing her away. You’re so focused on how you want her to behave you’re missing out on the amazing girl who’s upstairs. She’s hurt. She’s scared. This is all new to her; we are new to her.”