“Nice.” I nod at her, and then Zara comes over, and her little belly is starting to get bigger.

“I think I ate the whole cake,” she says, sitting down in the single couch. “I might have even licked the plate.” Both Karrie and I laugh out loud.

I look around, asking, “Where is Zoe?”

“She’s not feeling well,” Zara says, and I have a feeling she’s lying about it. “I can’t wait to be off for five days.”

“Me either,” Karrie says.

“When are you leaving?” Zara asks, looking at me, and I stutter, wondering what she is talking about.

“She’s so excited to go to Paris,” Karrie says, and I just nod.

“I leave tomorrow night, and I’ll be back on Thursday,” I say, drinking the rest of the wine. We are leaving tomorrow but at six a.m. and taking a private plane there. It’s a one-hour flight. “The presents will be delivered on Monday.”

I leave the game with hugs and kisses to everyone, and I’m just a touch sad that I’m not going to be with them on Christmas. Matthew kisses me on the head. “Going to miss waking up on Christmas morning and not having you sitting there in the corner wearing sunglasses.”

I laugh at him and hug him. “One time,” I tell him, and now he laughs. “Okay, fine, every time, but it’s not my fault. Your wife is a bad influence on me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, and he walks me out with one last hug and kiss, and I make my way over to Mark’s place.

I’m taking out the food from the oven when I hear his key in the door. “In the kitchen!” I shout, and he comes in, tossing his keys on the counter and coming to kiss me. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he says quietly and grabs a piece of bread and tosses it in his mouth.

“I want to spend next Christmas with Karrie,” I tell him, and he looks at me. “I know I said I wanted to keep things under wraps for now, but next year, I want to spend it here, and maybe your parents can come over.”

“Okay,” he says. It’s all he ever says. I could ask him to go to Alaska and sleep in igloos, and all he will say is okay. He will never really say no to me.

“That’s it? Okay?” I tell him, grabbing my wine glass. “Just like that?”

He leans against the counter in front of me and looks at me. “Will you be there?” he asks, and I nod. “Then okay.” He grabs another piece of bread. “And for the record, I don’t like that you’re trying to start a fight because you’re nervous about meeting my parents.”