Page 79 of The Christmas Arrangement

“You’re pregnant?” I ask my sister.

“Holly?” Merry’s eyes are huge.

“No! I mean, not yet. Jack and I are trying to have a baby, though. We’re going to be doing the long-distance thing for who knows how long. And, you know, logistically it’ll be complicated … so we’re going for it now.”

“That’s why you haven’t been drinking,” I say.

“Right.”

“You had a beer after the tree lighting, though,” Merry says.

“It was nonalcoholic,” Jack explains. “We weren’t ready to tell anyone yet. Guess that ship’s sailed.” He laughs.

“You’re trying to get pregnant?” Noelle sounds delighted. Dad grins like a fool.

“We just started. Let’s all keep our expectations in check,” Holly says. But a glimmer of a smile slips through her lawyer mask.

“So you’re not pregnant?” Rachel ask me.

“I’ve known your son for six days,” I tell her. I know my face is flaming because my skin is on fire. “We haven’t even ... you know. Yet.”

During the absolutely mortifying silence that follows, I pray for a hole to open up in the floor and swallow me.

No such luck.

Dad breaks the silence, clearly trying not to laugh. “So to be clear, nobody’s pregnant. Except possibly future Holly.”

“Nobody’s pregnant,” I confirm, still blushing furiously.

Rachel sinks into the nearest chair. “I thought?—”

“You thought history was repeating itself,” Dash says. “But it’s not. Because I’m not you, and Ivy’s not Dad, and this isn’t twenty-eight ago.”

I catch him glancing at Daniel when he says “Dad.”

“I’m sorry, Ivy.” Rachel’s voice is small. “When I noticed you weren’t drinking and then saw the vitamins, I panicked. I thought you brought me here to tell me you and Dash were going to make a huge mistake.”

“Loving someone isn’t a mistake,” I say quietly. “Running away from love is.”

She flinches like I hit her.

“Why don’t we sit?” Dad suggests gently. “The food’s getting cold.”

Dash

And just like that, we sit down to eat. It seems absurd. After all this trauma and revelation, we’re just eating dinner. But maybe that’s what families do. They sit together even when everything’s broken, because sitting together is how things start to heal.

Daniel—I can’t think of him as Dad, not yet—sits across from me. He keeps glancing at me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Mom won’t look at anyone. Ivy is next to me, and her hand finds mine under the table.

We eat in silence at first.

“I have an idea,” Noelle says suddenly. “Our family has a tradition. Every night at dinner, we share three things. Something we’re grateful for. Something we regret. Something we’re going to do make tomorrow better.”

“Noelle—” Nick starts.

She looks around the table. “I think it’s what we need right now. To say what we’re really feeling. Out loud.”

Her suggestion is met with more thick, heavy silence.