“No. My mother wasn’t into all of that. Nothing for you to apologize for. When I moved in with my uncle, things were more normal, I guess. I think it was too late, though. My impression of Christmas was that it was just another day with a little more glitz than usual. Some years, anyway.” She glanced over at Abby, wondering how much to tell her. Hell, they’d just met. Do you blurt out that your parents were drunks? No. Her past really wasn’t any of Abby’s business. “What else? Special meal?”

“Yes. We have a more informal meal on Christmas Eve. Usually an early buffet. Then we’ll pile into their Suburban and drive around and look at lights. Back home, my father will play the piano, and we’ll have cocktails and sing carols. We open our presents on Christmas morning. My mother will usually make a quiche or something light. Then we’ll have our main meal about one o’clock. She likes to get all fancy with it and brings out the ‘good china’ as she says. The evening meal is very informal again—usually leftovers—and it’s usually a short day. Skiing starts in earnest after that. And they like to take us all out to eat once or twice too.”

She stared out at the lightening sky, picturing all Abby had described. It sounded like, yes, a fairytale of a Christmas, something she knew absolutely nothing about. How lucky had Abby been to have enjoyed all of that growing up. And now here she was, forever jaded—and quite cynical—with the holiday. What was going to be her reaction to all of it? Would she secretly mock their family traditions? Would she be envious? No, not envious. Just indifferent, probably. That was how she normally felt when she joined Eric and Addison on Christmas Day. Indifferent.

Maybe she could fake it this year. Seeing as how she was a fake girlfriend, surely she could pretend to enjoy the holiday with all its pomp and gaudy decorations.

Chapter Fourteen

Abby turned sleepy eyes to Nic, then closed them again as she leaned her head back. “You okay?” she mumbled.

“Yes. Go back to sleep. We’re about ten miles from Amarillo.”

“Mmm,” she murmured. Amarillo was a little more than halfway.

They’d stopped for breakfast at six—McDonalds. By seven, she was struggling to stay awake and Nic had offered to drive. That was the last thing she remembered. She’d apparently fallen asleep immediately. She opened her eyes a tiny bit, enough to watch Nic. There was a smile on her face as she drove, and Abby wondered if Nic knew it was there.