“I had to go in for an emergency meeting with a client,” she explains, even though she’d already texted her dad as much hours ago.

“What sort of emergency meeting does a divorce lawyer have to get to?” Her brother, Todd, grumbles not-so-quietly, even as his wife, Margot, elbows him.

Apologetic yet light mood easily dropping in the face of her brother’s grumpiness – cops and lawyers were just not made to get along – she keeps a tight smile on her face and pointedly ignores him.

“It took you so long that Melissa claimed your seat at the adult table,” Brian, her oldest brother, informs her with a teasing smile, gesturing to his twelve-year-old daughter sitting next to him.

Melissa sticks her tongue out. “Now you’re stuck at the kids table.”

Caroline sticks hers out back and places her macchiato next to the empty setting at said kids table. “Joke’s on you, this is my preferred table.”

She braces her hands lightly on her two nephew’s heads as she settles down between them, squeezing herself into the spot that is definitely not meant for an adult sized person. “Sorry for making you wait. I have gifts that are so going to make up for it,” she promises them with a wink.

Buying forgiveness: one of the perks of being the cool, single aunt.

Five minutes into dinner, her mom clears her throat loudly, pulling Caroline’s attention away from her niece. “Caroline, I have to ask you…”

She leans back from her table, and a fork of mashed potatoes halted as she turns to look at her mom. There’s a smile on her face that tells Caroline she is about to be teased, even before it happens.

Satisfied that she has everyone’s attention, her mother lifts her chai latte up. “Who is Hannah and why is her phone number on my drink, asking for me to call her? Is this related to why your girlfriend isn’t joining us tonight?”

As everyone breaks out into teasing laughter, the fork slips from Caroline’s hands and clatters back to her plate.

What the hell?

***

As the clock strikes midnight and Christmas Eve officially turns to Christmas, Caroline sits on the couch in her own condo, staring at the cup.

Her mom hadn’t been seeing things, as was the first thought she’d had earlier.

Nope, right there on the cup, ten digits are scrawled right underneath Call me. Please. – Hannah Dalton

She isn’t going to call – nothing good ever comes of something that starts on this particular day and she knows it.

***

Coincidentally, the first time she ever met Hannah Dalton was at a holiday party.