“Is anyone else coming to dinner?” I asked as we started on the thirty-minute drive from the airport to the farm.

“I think April might come by.”

“No wedding tonight?” I was surprised, since Saturday nights were always booked.

“It was an afternoon wedding, so she thought she’d be done around seven. But the whole family is coming for Sunday dinner tomorrow, and then we’ll have the big party at the inn on Tuesday.”

I nodded. My parents always threw a big Christmas Eve party at the inn for staff, extended family, and close friends. It had been a few years since I’d attended one, since Brett had preferred Aspen to Cloverleigh Farms for the holidays, but I remembered them from my youth as warm, noisy, fun gatherings full of people in high spirits. Part of me was looking forward to it and part of me dreaded having to explain over and over again where Brett was.

But that would be my reality, at least for a while.

When we pulled up to the house, I got a little teary-eyed at seeing it blanketed with snow and covered in lights. It was beautiful and familiar, reminding me of Christmases from my childhood—I’d missed it.

My mom misted up as well when she greeted us, and she gave me an extra long hug. “It’s going to be okay, darling,” she whispered, squeezing me tight. “You’re home now. You belong here.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I hoped with all my heart she was right.

Later, April and I snuck over to the bar at the inn for a glass of wine, and I told her about Breakfast with Santa.

“Wait—you did what?” Seated across the high-top table from me, April paused with her glass halfway to her mouth.

“I got drunk at Breakfast with Santa, dumped a pitcher of ice water in Brett’s lap, took the mic right out of jolly old St. Nick’s hand, made a kid cry, and told the entire country club not to be an asshole.” I cringed. “Then I said ‘peace out’ and dropped the mic.”

She burst out laughing. “You did not!”

“I did,” I admitted, wrinkling my nose. “It was pretty bad.”

“What possessed you?”

I told her the news about Kimmy’s pregnancy, how she’d said terrible things about me in public, how my former friends had failed to have my back. “I just couldn’t take it anymore,” I said. “I’ve kept my cool this whole time, but I finally had to let it out.”

“I don’t blame you. How did the kids react?”

“I’m sure they were embarrassed, but neither of them wanted to talk about it when they got home.”

She shrugged. “Well, parents have been embarrassing their children since the beginning of time. They’ll live. They might need therapy,” she added, “but they’ll live.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll all need some therapy. Including Santa.” I winced a little as I recalled the old man’s befuddled face when I went charging up to him.

“Santa will get over it. Your kids are the only people you need to worry about. How are they doing?”

“Hard to say for sure,” I fretted. “They don’t talk much about their feelings.”

“No?”

“No, I think they’re coping in other ways—Whitney has taken to wearing a lot of heavy makeup.”

April smiled ruefully. “I noticed that. Looks like you during your black eyeliner phase. Mom hated it so much, remember?”

I exhaled. “I do, and part of me says she’s just acting like a normal thirteen-year-old girl. But another part of me wonders if it’s some kind of mask she’s trying to put on for protection.”

“Hmm.” April’s forehead creased. “That’s a tough one.”

“And I don’t want to forbid it or tell her it looks ridiculous, because that’s what her dad does. She’s not even allowed to wear makeup at his house.”

“Dickhead,” my sister muttered. “As if lipstick and eyeliner are more inappropriate than his pregnant girlfriend?”

“Exactly.” I slowly spun my wineglass around by the stem. “I want to be understanding of her age and what she’s going through, but also still a responsible parent. Like, what’s the balance?”

“Beats me.” Her expression was sympathetic. “You’re in a tough spot there, hon. I’m sorry. What about Keaton?”

I sipped my pinot noir. “Keaton’s coping mechanism is food. He’s been sneaking it.”

“Oh, no. Have you talked to him?”

“A little. But I don’t want to punish him, you know? I just sort of keep trying to encourage him to talk to me if he wants to.”

“He seems happy about the move.”

I nodded. “They both claim to be good with it. They’ve always loved our summer visits here, and Whit is already asking if they can have a horse. It also helps that Mack’s daughter Millie is about the same age as Whitney. They hung out a lot when we were here for the wedding, and they text all the time. Keaton seems to get along well with his daughter Felicity too—she’s kind of a science geek like he is, I guess.”

“That’s all good stuff.”

“Still . . .” I set my glass on the table. “There’s no way being deserted by their father isn’t going to cause lasting damage, and I worry it’s more than I can handle. He didn’t fight me on full custody, he didn’t fight me on this move, and I had to talk him into letting them come stay with him the second half of their winter vacation. He thought a weekend would be plenty.”

April gasped. “What a jerk! Do the kids know that?”

“No, and I hated covering for him. But what was the alternative? Let him crush my children’s feelings the way he crushed mine?”

She reached across the table and put a hand on mine. “You’re doing the right thing, even though he doesn’t deserve it. When do they go back to see him?”

“A week from today—the twenty-ninth. Then they’re back here on the fifth, the day before school starts.”

“And you’re going to stay at the house with Mom and Dad for a while?”

I nodded. “Until I find something to buy, but I probably have to wait for the Santa Barbara house to sell first. Brett practically emptied our joint accounts, so I don’t have a ton of extra cash lying around, and I’d rather die than ask him for money.”

“Mom and Dad would help you out, wouldn’t they?”

“They offered, but I don’t want to take their retirement money. They’ve earned it.” I gathered my hair over one shoulder. “No, I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I want to do it on my own. When the California house sells, which shouldn’t take long, I’ll find something small and secluded, maybe on a little bit of land. I’d like Keaton to be able to have that horse, and maybe we could get a few other animals too. Brett never wanted pets in the house, but I think it’s important to grow up caring for animals. And I think it will be good therapy too.”

“I think you’re right, and that all sounds perfect.” She tilted her head. “But why the seclusion? Are you hiding out?”

“At least for a little while. I feel like my life has been upside down for months—I want to get through the holidays, and then all I want is a fresh start with the new year. For all of us.”