“Maybe. But not right now. It’s too raw.” Rosie doused more hot sauce on her sandwich. “I wish I could spend today being completely selfish. All I want to do is lounge on the couch, watch TV, and eat junk food. But I have to be at work in a few hours.”’
“Today? But it’s Sunday, and you worked until four yesterday. In fact, you’ve gone in every day this week. I think you should take a sick day.”
“I’m not sick. Just miserable.”
Charlie crumpled up her sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the garbage. “Then consider it a mental health day. Seriously. You’re working on Christmas DayandBoxing Day, right?”
“But I’m taking off Christmas Eve to be with my family.”
“Big whoop. One whole day. You’re entitled to take a rest day just for yourself.”
“If I don’t go in to the hotel, then I should head over to my parents’ place. My mom always prepares her tamales for Nochebuena on the twenty-third. Usually Isabella and I help her out, but I told her I had to work.” Guilt swamped over Rosie, adding to her misery. “I don’t know if I can handle my family just yet. Christmas Eve’s going to be bad enough.”
“Then don’t tell her you’re staying in bed. For once, put yourself first. You’ve been through a lot, and you need time to recover.”
Rosie was about to argue but stopped herself. Considering how wretched she felt, she wouldn’t be at her best—not at work or around her family. “Okay. Thanks. I’m going to text Preston and let him know. I wish I didn’t feel so guilty about taking a day off.”
Charlie brightened. “I know what you can do. What about all those gift bags you bought for the hotel employees. Did you assemble them yet?”
Rosie plunked her head onto the table and groaned. “No. I have everything ready, but I forgot to put them together.”
Earlier in the month, when she’d told Preston about the tradition of giving out gift bags to the staff, he’d asked her to handle it. She’d done her best, making sure each bag contained a Visa gift card, chocolates, a drink tumbler, and a handwritten note expressing her appreciation.
“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie said. “I can stay here and help. Since you’re probably not in the mood for Christmas fare, we could watch something with lots of explosions and car chases.”
“You’d do that for me?” Rosie’s eyes clouded with another round of tears. “I know how much you hate action movies.”
“For today, I’ll put up with them. Just nothing with creepy aliens. If you need me to do a Tim Hortons run, I could do that, too. Or we can order pizza later. Whatever you need.”
“How about a James Bond movie? Or one of theMission Impossibleflicks?”
“Door number two, please. I’ll watch Tom Cruise in anything.” Charlie stood up. “Come on. Let’s go grab all the gift stuff, and then we can get cozy on the couch.”
“Thanks.” While her offer didn’t ease Rosie’s heartache completely, at least she wouldn’t be alone. But the next few days were going to be rough.
Twenty-Four
Christmas Eve
For as long as Rosie could remember, the highlight of her holiday season was Nochebuena. Held on Christmas Eve at her parents’ house, it was a festive celebration involving most of her extended family. Following a bountiful dinner filled with delicious food and plenty of gossip, everyone would pile into their cars and drive to St. Andrew’s Cathedral for midnight mass. After that, they’d return home for cocoa and presents.
But last year’s celebration had been more stressful than enjoyable. For whatever reason, Rosie’s elderly relatives had all decided her status as an unmarried woman warranted discussion. She’d had a hard time keeping her cool when two of her great-aunts had expressed concern over her childless state (“your womb isn’t getting any younger”). Or when her widowed great-uncle urged her to try dating apps and then explained how he’d used them to orchestrate a series of spicy hookups. It was more than she’d ever needed to know about his sex life.
This year, however? She’d been excited to bring Drew as her date. With him playing the role of her boyfriend, she could prove to everyone that she wasn’t a dried-up old maid.
Except now she was single.Again. And it was her own damn fault. If she hadn’t gone overboard in expressing her feelings, she and Drew would still be together—even if it was just for show. Earlier this morning, she’d been tempted to call him and ask if he’d fill the role for one more night. But she couldn’t do it. No matter how much she was hurting, she needed to get through the evening on her own.
With most of her relatives set to arrive around five, she’d decided to come an hour early. This way, she could break the news to her parents and siblings first.
When she let herself in, Jaime, her dad, and Isabella’s husband, Peter, were in the living room watching TV. She greeted them quickly, stopping by her dad’s armchair to give him a peck on the cheek. Fortunately, the men were too engrossed in a prerecorded soccer game to comment on Drew’s absence. She went into the kitchen, where Mamá, Isabella, and Jaime’s wife, Camila, stood around the kitchen island. Graciela sat in a high chair, demolishing a bowl of pudding. As was typical, she’d smeared most of it on the tray in front of her, though she’d also gotten some in her hair.
After greeting them with hugs and kisses, Rosie waited for them to ask about Drew. Instead, their attention was focused on the large slow cooker at the center of the island, filled with her mom’s ponche navideño—Mexican punch flavored with hibiscus, tamarind, cinnamon sticks, sugar cane, rum, and plenty of chopped-up fruit. Knowing Mamá, it had been simmering for hours. Beside it was a smaller crockpot, which probably held the nonalcoholic version.
Though it was early to start drinking, some punch might ease the tension in Rosie’s shoulders. It was only a matter of time before Drew’s name came up.
“Does the big one have rum in it?” she asked.
Isabella rubbed her stomach, which was the size of a small beach ball. “Of course. But I told Má she didn’t use enough booze. Not that she’ll let me taste-test it.”
