“Eleven o’clock in the morning. You were extraordinarily tired last night,” she explains. “Your father left you a note. It’s on the kitchen counter.”

I pad over in my socks, rubbing sleep out of my eyes, and pick up the paper. It’s my father’s monogrammed letterhead. CC, for Colin Chance.

Dear Emma,

I had to leave abruptly this morning for a last-minute trip to Tokyo. Unfortunately, business goes on even with the holiday tomorrow. I hope you can understand.

There’s nothing I can say in this note that will instantly make everything okay between us, but please know that I love you, and we’ll talk in the new year.

Your Christmas gift is in the living room under the tree.

Love,

Dad

I set down the note, feeling spent. This isn’t the apology I was looking for, and it definitely isn’t the explanation. So that’s how it’s going to be. My dad’s going to continue to skirt the issues of who I really am, of what he’s done.

If only he would sit down and talk to me like an adult. If only he would show me he respects me enough to answer all my questions. To hear me out.

I pad into the living room and retrieve the lone envelope that sits under the tree, a forest-green fir wrapped exclusively in tiny silver bells. The envelope has my name on it, but I don’t open it. I slip it into a side pocket of my suitcase.

“Dash? Any buzzes from Ollie?”

“No, Emmaline,” Dash responds. “I’m sorry.”

Ollie and I haven’t exchanged as much as an emoji since I left him standing there by Dark Lake. I feel miserable without my best friend to talk to, and even more so knowing it’s my own fault. Ollie’s right; there has been a chasm growing between us. Now I’ve made it even wider.

I spend the next two days alone, watching old films and eating the worst junk food I can find in our pantry. Alone in my empty house, feeling so isolated I’m this close to asking Dash and Genevieve to watch a movie with me, I’m beyond relieved when I get a buzz from Ansel, reporting that he’s been hanging out with Archer and his dads over the holiday. Trimming the tree, going for a hike up to the Hollywood Hills. He shares a snapshot of him and Archer in sneakers, taking in the fresh air. Archer’s arm is draped lazily around Ansel’s shoulders, and they both look pretty content. I’m happy for Ansel. He deserves a family, even if it’s complicated.