6
Another morning alone. Day: Christmas Eve. Mood: Low. Expectations: Lower.
As I roll over, something brown and fuzzy flops into my face. I push it away only to realize it’s attached to my head. The reindeer onesie. I groan as the rest of the night comes flooding back.
Luke, Leo, Noche Buena.
My phone buzzes on the pillow next to my head, breaking my doom spiral.
Juliet: Morning sunshine. Breakfast is ready.
I shut my eyes. Facing my family after last night’s humiliation is going to take me a minute to work up to—especially since I have to explain my date isn’t coming. I notice other messages on my phone.
Olivia: Snuck out with Mr. Plus-One did you? I hope you got home safe.
I groan. Tomorrow, I’m going to have to come clean to her. There’s no way Leo will be coming to the wedding with me. Not after he was completely locked in on Audrey the entire night.
And similar messages from Brooke and even my sister.
I scoff at the notification to rate my ride with Madam Lunas. I guess I could give her five stars for a clean car?
I only have the energy to respond to messages with a simple thumbs-up.
After twenty more minutes of mindless scrolling, I’m cruelly forced out of my self-pity bubble by one tiny detail: The she-shed has no plumbing.
It’s the perfect place to hide from nosy family members, but for short periods only. I swing my legs off the lumpy futon with a groan, shucking off my supremely warm blanket. Time to face the day… and the rest of the Silvas.
I grab my coat and crunch through the thin layer of frosty snow that fell last night as I make my way to the main house.
It’s almost 10 a.m., which means my nieces and nephews have been up a couple of hours by this time.
I expect a wall of sound as I crack open the back door.
I don’t expect to see my entire family sitting at the kitchen table like they were waiting for me.
“Good morning?” I ask, my voice a little croaky from the night before. Thanks, vodka.
Juliet is grinning like she knows all the spoilers. My brother Manny is sneaking glances my way as he sips his coffee, and Wit Wit is using her magic mom skills to cut Libby’s banana into small pieces while also staring at me simultaneously.
“So,” Mom says, keeping her back to me as she cooks pancakes on the skillet.
My eyes widen at the powdered sugar, shredded coconut, and grated cheese on the counter.
I love her holiday bibingka pancakes, but she only makes them on special occasions.
“Would you like to invite your date in for breakfast?”
It’s like in the movies when a record player scratches. I ease the door closed behind me. Is that why they are all watching me?
“But my date isn’t here,” I say pointedly at my sister. Did she tell everyone about Leo?
“That’s too bad. I was making my special pancakes for him,” Mom says. “At least, I look forward to meeting him at our family’s Noche Buena feast tonight.”
My face reddens. “I don’t know.”
She turns to face me, the ladle in her raised hand making me nervous. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
Wit Wit stops cutting the banana and instead cuts me a sharp look. “I have the same question.”
I stammer, “I—I’m just not sure we’re a good fit.”
The image of Leo and Audrey dancing—arms flying like inflatable car-lot mascots—still hurts. He was there with me, and even if we weren’t hitting it off, he didn’t have the right to ditch me like that.
“Well, he has some nerve.” Mom’s expression grows dark. “To spend the night in my shed with my daughter and then disappear without a word?”
Oh. I look around the room at all the hopeful faces. Is this why everyone is here waiting like I was going to walk into the kitchen with Saint Nick himself? “Did you think he came home with me?”
“But I saw you,” Manny says, brow furrowing in confusion. “Last night. I was up feeding the baby and caught a glimpse of you sneaking into the shed. I was certain you were with Leo.”
He’s innocently bouncing baby Leah on his knee like he isn’t airing my personal business in front of the whole family.
He thought I brought Leo home? And looking around at all the expectant faces, I realize he told everyone just that.
The smell of burning pancake begins to fill the room.
“Oh no!” Mom whips back to the stove, but not before I catch the deep look of disappointment on her face.
“Would you really want me to be with someone who would ditch me the morning after a one-night stand?” I ask. “On Christmas Eve no less?”
“I just want you to be happy,” Mom mutters, back still to me.
“I am happy,” I insist, even though the image of me crying in Madam Luna’s car flashes before my eyes. Well, I will be happy if her predictions come true. What did she say? The love of my life was someone I already knew? And that next Christmas I’d be with him?
“In fact,” I continue, unzipping my coat, “I have a really good feeling about this year. I think it’s going to be my year.”
The energy in the room shifts again. There’s a strange pause like everyone is suddenly holding their breath.
“What are you wearing?” Libby blurts out, with barely contained laughter.
I glimpse down at my reindeer onesie and a rush of humiliation races through me.
“Is that why Leo didn’t want to spend the night?” Manny wheezes through laughter.
“My outfit has nothing to do with it!” I exclaim, my anger reigniting. “Can we just enjoy breakfast without interrogating me?”
“You’re too picky,” Wit Wit says with a shake of her head as she hands my nephew Riley a pile of dirty dish towels and bibs for the laundry. “You need to give someone a chance.”
“Let me have those,” I interrupt, taking them from Riley. “I need a break.”
I head to the laundry room to start a load. As I shake off the reindeer onesie and grab clean leggings and a sweater from the dryer, I hear low chortling from the kitchen.
“Picky?” Manny is laughing. “Do you remember some of her exes? She’s the opposite of picky.”
Madam Lunas’s voice echoes in my head, insisting one of my exes was the one.
They couldn’t all have been wrong for me.
Chill Anthony had a calm I still miss. Flynn’s charm could’ve powered an entire city.
And Jamie—well, Jamie was unforgettable for certain spicy reasons.
There very well could be a diamond in the rough.
When I return from the laundry room, I find Riley looking up at me. “Maybe Santa can bring you a husband, Tita Marygrace?” His little voice is dead serious.
There is a beat of silence before the entire kitchen howls. Even Mom’s shoulders are shaking, though I can tell she’s trying to hide it.
That’s it. That’s the last straw.
I don’t mean to snap, but my voice sharpens before I can stop it.
“Everyone, listen up. I’m going to figure my dating life out.
No help needed.” Except maybe from Madam Lunas, whose prediction is better than any family pep talk, but my family doesn’t need to know I’m taking advice from my Uber driver.
Despite my announcement, there’s more than one skeptical face in the room.
I huff. “And I’m actually happy with who I am, thank you very much. ”
As I storm toward the cabinet with the coffee mugs in it—caffeine is always the answer—my elbow accidentally connects with the Butt Crack Santa cookie jar, which someone left precariously balanced on the counter. Again.
“Watch out!” Juliet yells. I jump back, but all I can do is watch everything in slow motion as the jar plummets to the tile floor, shattering into a million tiny shards.
I freeze. My heart drops all the way down into my toes. No! No. No. No.
Dad’s favorite jar. The gift from Robbie when we were actually friends. An integral part of every Silva Christmas. Ruined.
It feels symbolic in the worst possible way. Like I’ve just smashed the last good thing tethering me here. This day needs a do-over stat.
Tears well in my eyes, and panic threatens to choke me as I bolt for the back door. I shove on a pair of Crocs near the doorway and step outside.
The cold slaps me in the face as I hit the doorstep, but before I can take a breath, my feet skid across a sheet of ice. I go down, flailing my arms, desperately trying to break my fall. But my head smacks against the concrete, and stars burst across my vision.
And then—the world goes dark.